Christmas and the First Feral Family

12-30-2014
Last week, Christmas and the faux cheer from the First Feral Family, presently at my perp abetting mother's residence in Victoria, BC. This is a travel trip from Penticton where I reside, but as it "happened", it was arranged to spend Christmas in Kamloops with my brother and family. I did the driving in each direction, and even was allowed the foresight to pack a few of my belongings and drop them off at my place in Penticton, adding some three hours onto the drive. Call it a 5 day road trip within the confines of a three week road trip. This has been done before, two years ago with all the same players, vehicle etc. One notable difference was there was a new highway 17 that cut out some 40 min. of  stop-start driving, and thank goodness for that. They were at least 30 years in behind in getting highway from the Tsawwassen ferry terminal to Hwy 1.

And my mother is in her ditz mode again, pretending to be unaware and then being very sharp or else run to be so. Her hearing is worse, and so things must be repeated at loud volume. Perfect perp fodder, who seem to revel in causing events to occur twice or more.

My farm worker friend came by yesterday, now in the horticulture business, and coincidentally (har, har) does work on my mother's suburban property. This was after I cut a 3" bough from a pine tree in the backyard that was drooping into the area where my mother wants the compost pile rebuilt. She had the tree climbers/arborist outfit working in the backyard in the summer, but they all somehow missed dealing with the most problematic branch of all. I don't know what it is that the perps are so nuts about when it comes to trees and plants, but clearly they wanted me to work on the offending branch and to be then taken on a walk in a wooded trail. I wanted to do a backwoods hike but she jammed out on me. Before she arrived, the perps made sure I had my lunch, paced around, and then ate a 100g chocolate bar, just barely finishing it when the doorbell rang. Funny how they want me out and about post-chocolate bar ingestion.

To finish of my walk yesterday, the perps put on two Caucasian families with children, and lo, if there wasn't an adopted negro child too who tailed me on his bicycle and even got in the way a couple of times too. Just what I love, child gangstalkers. How do they know to stalk me?

And of course the negro viewing has increased here in the bigger city, as well as on TV, which I see often while at the First Feral Family residence, as I don't have TV service where I live. Today they even put on a negro just-stand-there stalker at the road side while I was driving my mother past. In a red and olive green hoodie busy staring up at absolutely nothing, in keeping with many of the roadside gangstalk Fuckwits.

The perps have also given me a cold, which necessitated a trip to the local LD store to load up on supplements to combat this biological incursion. And I see today they added on a cold sore, though I don't think they are biologically related, as I have never had both at once before.

And the world tragedies seem to erupt with uncommon coincidences when I relocate to the FFF residence; it was Dec. 17 when I flew down, and that evening on TV there was video clips from a commercial passenger aircraft that hit 40 minutes of severe turbulence with some passengers getting hurt. A day after taking the ferry back to Victoria on Dec. 27, why, an Italian ferry headed to Greece in the Adriatic Sea had a fire below on the car deck and all living passengers were airlifted amidst a howling gale and through the night. And too, an Air Asia flight, QZ8501 has gone missing in the Java Sea....


The news had it that it was a tragic coincidence that three S Asian flights suffered tragedy all in one year. Coincidence my ass; the perps just love to dump aircraft into the ground or ocean, and seem to have an unerring knack of pulling this stunt in concert with me relocating/traveling. Flight TWA800 "happened" within two days of me traveling to France and staying at a village house for a week. As it was Paris bound it was all over the TV news in France, and I didn't need any translation upon seeing the imagery. My then wife, part of this insane orchestrated abuse when I was kept as a naive victim, was quite (extra) pissy over the TWA800 tragedy when on the TV news, and busied herself by working in the kitchen out of viewing range of the TV. I thought her behavior was a little odd then, and as this insane life orchestration and relentless abuse erupted in 04-2002, and all its managed coincidences came to be known, it fitted the pattern I have come to know, and have just articulated

12-31-2014
Another late get-up at 0930h and not really getting going until 1100h. And imposed hijinx on the small amount of mortar (cement) I needed to make up. My brother gave me the full 20kg paper bag which somehow got a hole in it so he put it in a cardboard box. And lo, if the box didn't have a hole in it once I began to handle it, and so I put it in another cardboard box. But that didn't work as the split bag spilled some more, so I put the bag into a plastic garbage bag. And lo, despite my careful efforts, the garbager bag split and so I put it into a second plastic bag that finally contained the leaking mortar mix. At each transition I had to clean it up of course, so these streaks of grey cement powder remained no matter how much I swept it with the broom.

All that pissing around to put two cup fulls in this door in the wall which seems to get successively invaded by ants, and now some animal that likes to dump gravel in it.  This door in the wall is where the municipal water supply feeds the house, and we know who likes to study water supplies via this victim, don't we?

Compost sifting this afternoon, and lo, if the hacking neighbor didn't come out to attend to his compost next to the fence. Then the steel grinding neighbor chipped in with more noise, as did the table saw noise act. Oddly, no lawnmower noise. Then the S-76 Sikorsky air ambulance did two low passes, presumably to give me ambulance coverage from above as we haven't had enough of the vehicular kind this FFF visitation, have we? As in not; about every hour or two of driving one would "happen" to be on the highways per above road trip.

01-01-2015
No excitement in bringing on the new year; my perp-abetting mother stayed up as we watched something that counted the minutes and seconds. Before that it was PBS and a tedious Gershwin suite of the NY Philharmonic Orchestra. It was New Year themed, but was mistimed so to not coincide with the New year in the PST zone. Besides, the guest negro vocalists, both in great voice, were no doubt arranged for both of us to see. As mentioned many times, if one has been locked in cages with negro children, (see here), then one has quite a different perspective and abreaction profile to various skin colors.

About a week ago the CBC news put on a substitute negro male anchorman, and I bailed on it, seeing yet another perp rouse to have me get more negro exposures. I turned the TV off and went to bed, but for some strange reason my perp-abetting mother "needed" to see the news and turned the TV on and watched this same newscast for a whole two minutes and then turned it off. Can we say emulation games again?

The laundry fuckery continues; my mother's washing machine puts on more lint thatn the clothes had when they were put in. And she puts on the ditz act when I bring it to her attention, just like last year at this time. So... I decided to beat this by taking my laundry to a laundromat instead. And lo, if my laundry didn't get fucked with again, as there were (non-lint) whitish streaks on my clothes, ostensibly "from" the powdered detergent I used. And why is laundry sabotage so important to the sickos? Regular readers will know that other forms of laundry sabotage are;

• stealing it and having the E. Indian thief wear my clothes, 
• stealing it for good, having the load stop due to imbalance problem when I am totally fastidious about loading the washing machine evenly, 
• having abetting shills, Ms. C as one example, volunteering to do my laundry,
• stiffing me with detergent with unwanted perfume smell, 
• having fabrics pill in odd places, 
• pulling threads even on synthetic clothes, 
• linting "from" the washing machine, 
• having two loads in side by side identical washing machines, one with a black colored vane, the other a white colored vane, and of course the
• parade of Fuckwits and dither-ditz's loiter around me for no seeming reason.

And when will this insane mania over my laundry ever end?

Other normal-peculiar FFF perp abetting behavior on this trip is to have them flex their foot and wave it about while seated and watching TV, all to have it "happen" in my peripheral vision for the most part. Both my mother did this, and my brother when visiting them in Kamloops. Once noticed, I shift myself or the TV tray to obstruct this stupid shit that has gone on for every extended visit since 04-2002 when this abusive insanity began and hasn't let up.

The perps even went extra silly yesterday on this theme/foot-waving stalking. I moved the TV tray to block the sight of my mother's foot waving, but wasn't thorough enough as there was a small sliver remaining. She then placed her foot such that it was in this small window, and so I moved the TV tray some more to obstruct it again. This time she moved her foot higher to be seen above the TV tray, not below. So then I shifted my position in my chair to turn away from this idiotic pursuit of my peripheral vision and finally it was over. Three attempts to rid her waving foot in my peripheral vision, which suggests that my vision is totally monitored and that every possible angle of visibility is known, and that she gets immediate direction where to place her foot. If someone can explain that in a conventional context I would surely like to know.

01-03-2015
Another late get-up, 0930h, for 9.5 hours of sleep, with 8.0 being my usual. Nearly every day they have screwed me into 9+ hours of sleep. Long ago, before the Day Of  Infamy (04-2002) when they began with a high tech apartment invasion, I could never figure out why January was such a doggy month and was doing 9+ hours of sleep each day. Now I know, it was the Fuckwits, and for "some reason" they like to run me with extra sleep this month of the year.

I was slinging compost in the backyard of the FFF house here, as the gardener and my brother couldn't get it together to do this for the last three months. And as it "happened" they didn't dig out the 2014 compost in the summer and piled leaves and debris on it. And so I had to combine the two very different piles and make them one consistent compost pile, which I did.

And so the neighbor noises sprang to life again; lawnmowers (yup, in early January), house tapping/faux construction, neighbor throat clearing and hacking, hot-rod muffler noise, neighborhood vacuum cleaners, overhead aircraft etc. When the 1530h afternoon dusk onset dinginess came on, the leaf blower whine started up for the last hour until I got it into one big pile. And even my perp-abetting mother got into digging some sieved soil/compost that was available. Then she came out again for a pointless question, no doubt doing the house-to-compost pile gangstalk walk and back again. (She never asks me about when I want tea for crissakes, and the answer is always the same, when I am done (the current job)).

Before that, major gangstalking at the public library, with the cough stalking stunt the highlight. I was looking at the DVD's and this Fat Woman with a kid sneaks in within 3' of me and lets go of a mighty cough which scared the shit out of me. And after 12.5 years of insane and relentless gangstalking, how would it be possible to sneak up on a victim (me) who is in a total alert state everywhere in public? Why, mind control, aka remotely applied cognitive manipulation/obstruction. This shit who cough-stalked me was not coughing beforehand or afterwards; in other words, it was a just-for-me cough-stalk

But she wasn't the only wacko Fuckwit in the library; this dude was on just-stand-there (sentry mode) duty, and while he moved his head or his arms, he was planted in the same spot, not anywhere near a bookshelf or plausible cover story, for at least 10 minutes. Like WTF; he wasn't in any lineup and wasn't at a table or catalog, just staring away for crissakes. I did a pass near the Fuckwit to make sure he was all there, and he was looking away and shaking his head with a smirk on it for crissakes. Like he wasn't all there, as in mentally deranged.

Then onto H* D* that big box store with the orange smocked staff, and lo, if their greeter wasn't in a freaking wheelchair. Someone knows how much I loathe these particular objects, and then had me look to the side, and lo, if there wasn't an empty wheelchair there. My lucky day, and perhaps the last all-out gangstalk before I leave this freaking town (Victoria, BC) in five days.

Some TV watching last night, and my mother doing her foot-waving bullshit from her chair. And me, I turn away and block it from my vision with a TV table and my hand at my head. Then she asks a dumb question to break up my repose. And she has started a new obnoxious habit of banging the floor with her foot which nicely sends a vibration through me as I am seated some 6' away. And too, having the unerring knack of banging the floor when a negro is portrayed on TV, or even East Indians (from India) now too.

Three days ago the Fuckwits gave me a dime sized cold sore at  L end my my mouth, next to my lips. The next day I see an ad on TV at LD for Ab*a that was advertised for cold sores. After running the gangstalk gauntlet at LD, I find the product at $22 for a whole 2 grams (not much). I use it, and it begins to work, and now today, I see another product called lysine (an amino acid) also advertised to help get rid of cold sores. I haven't bought any of the latter product, but could this "activity" over cold sores be too much of a coincidence? And we know who manages coincidences don't we?

01-05-2017
My daughter came over from Vancouver for the day, all (seemingly) for a post-Christmas lunch put on my perp-abetting mother. Most curious as to why she would do that, travel on the ferry and return in one day. I can only assume it was some kind of perp inspired event, bringing the Vancouver energetics to this gangstalk town of Victoria.

My brother also came along with his obsessional nature over garage sales and picking up bargains etc. He put all my landscape prunings in his white van beforehand, so presumably the van was on gangstalk duty too. My daughter used the PC for a few minutes, and afterward I find she left her employment letter for me to see. What was that all about anyhow?

As it "happens", she starts work the same day I fly back to Penticton, so perhaps there is some perp cosmic energetics/synchrony in that for whatever they are looking for.

Onto posting this today (Monday) as I got sucked into Downton Abbey last night.

More Music Machinations

04-28-2014
More jerk-arounds with playing and fixing audio files following last week's posting, done yesterday. The audio album was in a single large file and the separate Cue file with the song durations and song names aids in parsing the large audio file into individual song files. Or, at least, that is what Cue Tools was to do, but it wasn't functioning. The only freeware software I could find screwed up the assignment of song name to file, and so I had to manually figure out the song and its title and edit the meta-data. Thing was, I didn't know the album real well and had to play it in pieces. The Tag Scanner editor was used to edit the meta-data, and it has its quirks, all while playing the album too. That got too confusing (read, remotely applied cognitive dithering), and so I resorted to Amazon.com to play the samples of each song. Anyhow, interesting the perps are having me switch back and forth from this here box and using Tag Scanner and then using Amazon.com samples to play the same music while fixing audio file meta-data.

Vineyard work today, though not the usual kind. It was kitty litter/cat shit composting duty, unloading some 30 bags of it and digging it into the composting grape skins from last year's harvest. And horrid it was too, as the collected rain water on the bags strangely would flick back into my face or coat. The cutting knife was dull too, and wouldn't cut the bags, so I had to tear them open, and lo, if some of the kitty litter didn't somehow flick back at me too. The stench was terrible as well. The boss wanted to dump these at the base of the vines, but once I told him about Cryptosporidium, and association with cat shit, he decided to mix it in with his compost.

And he wanted me to make trips picking up stones and garbage between the rows in the vineyard, the stuff that he had been driving the tractor over for the prior year. And have I mentioned how obsessed the perps are over tires, rubber and their contact with the ground and how soon I will step on the very same patch of ground? Way too often, and it is not over yet.

Monday is usually yoga with the darling pixie instructor, and we were back to this after the scheduling oddities of last weekend and the apparent conflict with Easter Monday. They put on a new male, swapping out with the regular one, and the Mr. Red act again, though only a red shirt this time. Both with fugly over-sized shorts and very hairy legs. Both on my R. one behind the other. And both putting on this incredible wheezing and gasping act, aka heavy breathing. It was ridiculous to say the least. A regular woman was put on my L side for some reason, as she has always been far 15' to my R and near the door. All too strange, these musical places each week.

04-29-2014
A day of vineyard work on the vines, making the final pruning. Lots of counting of the buds per cane, and do the perps like me to be counting. Not to mention sabotaging me, forcing a re-count due to their dynamically applied cognitive dithering.

I was sunny, hence sun block lotion, another perp prop of considerable importance to them. The horrid goopy SPF 50 has got to go, as it looks like I stuffed my face in a can of white grease. And lo, I find that SPF 15 isn't at the LD store, so I had to buy SPF 30 in another brand, other than Ombrelle. It seems the perps like that kind, possibly because it has loathsome fragrance in it, but now need to change it up, not to mention changing the SPF rating.

Not warm enough to go shirtless today, as the wind was up, and was cool. I put on my headphones and did the music listening most of the day. My Android phone and Poweramp app seem to work OK together. But as this was the first time I had used the latter since last summer, they had to screw me around "forgetting" how to select the artist's albums.

Anyhow, no major excitement until exiting the LD store when this fat fucker tailed me out of the store to the parking lot, making out he was LD staff. Then a long haired male freak was driving into the parking stall next to me on the driver's side, and I vacated the empty stall opposite, and he drove over where I walked, an abiding perp obsession.

04-30-2001
My first breakfast in six weeks now without the yellow diet food. I finished it up, and that might be why the perps are so dizzy this morning. 

A full day in the vineyard today, save a morning garbage run to stuff the bins and get the recycle yard waste out, the one bag that was "forgotten" two weeks ago. I did all my pruning with the Android phone/player playing some of my music. And of course the single engine aircraft came out to circle overhead and send their noise to my ears with much Favored music playing at the same time (Celtic music with one of my very favorite female vocalists). Then the high altitude jets following the single engine aircraft and spewing contrails, came a few minutes later to punch their dull roar through my headphones, still playing.

A major day of contrails today, dicing and slicing the sky with white lines on blue and some high haze filling in some of the panels. Very often the contrails match the angles of the mountains in the distance.

My suntanning got curtailed some, then it was help the son-in-law for a short span. The perps cannot get enough stalkers around me when I am tanning, or more often, tanning and then I put a shirt on.

More games with online orders; I see that a vinyl LP came, which I did not intentionally order as I don't have a turntable. As it was $5 plus some shipping, it is another item that will be chucked without having using it. A very common perp arrangement; order the wrong/unfitting thing and get rid of it having not used it. And I see on Amazon.ca the CD is $55.95 plus shipping, and it the last LR album to get.

As I write this in the evening, they (putative neighbors) are vibrating this place, even if it an unattached dwelling, as the next door neighbor is undertaking round #2 of soil movement with a min-excavator. Looks like a big compost pile, as in a full dump truck full, the second such event in the last three weeks. Have I mentioned that the perps like to expose me to soils, of all colors and constitutions, not to mention the long running composting games a the First Feral Family house in Victoria? Way too often I suspect.

It seems like a major silly day for the perps was brewing this morning; a full frontal shave with the integral Teflon rub strip seems to get the perps excited, as I now do this twice per week

Now major vibration noise, and shaking this house from next door, at 1815h, a little late for landscape workers don't you think? Said noise erupted as my just-arrived-today CD finished playing, and now I am going to copy it do my hard drive, aka "rip it", though I loathe the term as it has no seeming meaning.

Gym tonight; and always a designated "hound dog" male gangstalker, one who shows up an inordinate amount, this time starting with me taking my jacket off and putting it in the cubbies. As usual, the "hound dog" has fugly shorts below his knees, and went one worse with green camouflage colored shorts. Last week's male hound dog/stalker at the gym was in red plaid shorts. Fugly and fuglier. Not to mention other Unfavoreds on view in the public swim pool below; major obese cases (250+ lb) strutting around in shorts.

Going to the gym and then grocery shopping bought me some relative quiet, as they were still pounding the ground next door when I got back (2000h), and shut it down within a minute of my arrival, and just before I was set to look over the fence to see WTF it was. Hopefully that was it, though somehow I doubt it. Having me here at this PC and its combination of strange emissions and the color changes and while vibrating the house is just too attractive of a proposition for the perps and their non-stop etheric perturbance assault.

04-02-2014
Went to a show last night; Ruth Moody -highly recommended for the folk-accoustic (with electric guitar support) crowd, though not for my metal-head readers. She is not in anyway as austere as the link pic might be interpreted; more like gracious, smiling (happily), and captivating by way of her humbleness. She is a genuine folkie, and I am smitten as far as fan adulation goes.

The actions at the adjacent tables was interesting to observe; extra smart phone action as one example, -at least four of them immediately in front of me, and using them as flashlights as well so I could be pit-lamped momentarily, both in close and from the opposite end of the restaurant.

The owner was on patrol (read, excessive proximate activity), standing in the doorway from outside, then walking around outside, then coming in and sitting near me, having to squeeze past my table in close.

The party of three in front was joined by a frizzy white haired elder male, and so the "musical chairs" games began. He was seated 6' away facing W, and hung out with these ersatz "friends", checking out his so-called smart phone under the table. Then he took off for 35 min. or so, including the set break. Then he comes back, and with the musical chair games, he sits in front of me, 2' away from my knee. But that wasn't enough, as he then weaved and bobbed his head, and had to make an excessive lean over the to the blonde woman who was a member of this party.

Other freaks that were given extra gangstalking duty in the audience were the fat girls on "gut strut", normally a male stalker assignment.

I am now getting a vision assault while listening to the above performer's CD I bought last night. I am attempting to read the credits on the CD case, and both eyes are getting a stinging attack and causing extra tear flow so I cannot read it presently. I shift back to this here blog, and lo, I am allowed to read (mostly) what I am writing about. Talk about being under someone's thumb.

And then when reading her bio, per above link, why, another stinging vision attack.

Of late, the motorcycle noise is very evident; what is it about motorcyclists that need to tail or precede me into stores and banks? Yesterday, a red-shirted motorcycle tail comes in while I was at the checkout at the health foods store, and then walks out a few minutes later, not having purchased anything. I finish up a the checkout and exit the place, and lo, if the motorcyclist isn't still malingering in the parking lot. He should of been long gone in the few intervening minutes between his strange exit (no groceries) and for me to finish at the checkout.

Then today, I changed up my routine and went to the downtown bank. It was no surprise to the perps, as they arranged for the last available ATM to be scooped by a ball capped fugly shorted dude. There was no one waiting in the line for cashiers, so I went in and did business directly with a real person. A motorcyclist was exiting the bank just as I entered (and was the same height and form of the motorcyclist from the day before). A line of three arrives behind me within the minute, but no big deal. The cashier was friendly and all, and gives me this ridiculous stare before I finished up. I go to the entry way and there is a day-glo dude standing there on the other side waiting for the sliding glass door to operate, and then from behind him come three more parties, making out that they are independently arriving in this clusterfuck swarm at the bank entrance. I scoot around this organized confusion and get to my vehicle, and then when backing out another freaking motorcyclist wants my stall in his giant Goldwing.

And plenty of other motorcycle stalking this week, not to mention the associated gratuitous noise which I absolutely loathe. And of all the perp themes and stunts, I have not yet found any kind of abuse/torture/torment related to motorcycles and young children. By way of extensive reading I have a speculative handle on all these Unfavoreds and why they might be planted around me for abreactive response purposes;

• skinheads (male bald heads) -per Lynne Moss-Sharman's recollections of visiting clinics where patients had their heads shaved with...
• tattoos to serve as consistent reference locations for brain research
• Scottish accents -Dr. Ewan Cameron was in Montreal when I was there, 1956-57,1958-59
• white clinical garb -same, if visiting a psychiatric research hospital that Dr. Cameron ran
• wheelchairs -same if the subjects/patients weren't ambulatory, per above hospital
• military uniforms/marching -the web site, The Indian Lake Project has pictures of military personnel with children and thought-to-be dates were latter 1950's
• clerical garb -the tragedy of non-consensual research/murder of children at Quebec's Catholic institutions has been well documented in the Duplessis Orphans literature (sample link)
• chinless stalkers -aliens as depicted in common reconstructive drawings don't have chins
• red hair -aliens, read in the Alien Jig Saw site, now down to harassment of the autho, though there are other web references
• guns and red splatter -some accounts in Brice Taylor's book (Thanks for the Memories) of some children being gunned down in front of the others, and ample references in cult and ritual abuse.

But at no time have I encountered anything in the abuse and MKULTRA literature about motorcycles, their noise, and the particular dress style associated with bikers. Very often the perps will leave their HD's as props on the side of the street, and from my understanding of the biker crowd, that is the last thing you want to do unless you are a full patch member of a particular bike club. Because they will steal the bike for parts, and yet everyone who has one seems to not care about possible theft when strutting or otherwise displaying their motorcycle here in suburbia.

Is there anyone out there in TI or Governmental abuse world who has insights on how the perps may have treated young children in concert with motorcycles and their owners? Perhaps it was a military motorbike exposure during the Lost Years of 1956 to 1960 when almost all of my recall was purged, but that doesn't explain the biker garb schtick I am often bombarded with.

05-03-2014
Saturday, and the "need" for a full leg wax. A young blonde girl and plenty to talk about as it "happened". She was using red colored wax this time, and lo, if there wasn't plenty of red exposures (vehicles and shirts of ambulatory stalkers) on the way home. I got my legs tanned while working at the vineyard the day before, so most of the hairs would of had a single day of sunlight exposure for 2014. And believe me, sunlight is a vital variable in the perp research game, often being arranged to come on when starting a new row of vines, when I change my music choice.

I got nailed with a later get-up time, and didn't have lunch before the above appointment, and was totally unaware of it until at least 1500h. Have I mentioned that the perps like to delay my normal feeding times and schedule extra-exposure activities in its place? Way too often. Laundry got done in the afternoon when normally it is the morning.

05-04-2014
Sunday, and what a stunt the perps pulled this morning. I went to a big box home store to get some machine screws, washers and nuts, and while in the aisle attempting to locate these items in the quantity I needed (100), a procession of males, about one per minute needs to come by. After the third one I ended the search as this was becoming such a gangstalking fest. 

So... I go to another similar store, and the same thing started up, including one stalker who was at the above mentioned store, and this isn't the first time I have had a tail from these two stores in a single outing. This mofo wanted to horn in on where I was, so I decided to screw (so to speak), and got out of the place. As I was crossing on the crosswalk outside in the parking lot, this idiot in a van comes straight at me, so I had to scuttle out of the way. I mouth off at him while he was still driving, and I doubt he heard any of it. But it so "happens", this skinheaded male nearby, about to enter the store, calls me out about mouthing off. He had to have seen it all happen, but because the almost-victim is publically vocal about a run-down attempt, he mouths off a the victim (me). Like WTF; the perps setting me up for a run-down attempt, (perhaps an overstatement, as I don't know what the driver's true intent was), and then having a gangstalker chime in to mouth off at the victim because he didn't like being run down. Only in Pentiction, the current setting of TI World.

Anyhow, time for the weekly posting, but as a reminder, is there anyone out there who has specific knowledge of how motorcycles were used as abuse/harassment props on young children, in the 1950's or even as present?

Everyone's Poodle

04-14-2012
A tiresome coffee with my farm-worker "pal" (who makes a great effort to be friendly with me), as in planted ditz, who acted even more ditzy today for some strange reason. As in more chirpy and superficial. And no less, at this coffee house on the trendy walking area, and I had my gangstalker color parade coming to visit me, plus people with dogs. One was a mid-gray standard poodle, and lo, if I didn't "happen" to drive there in my same gray colored vehicle. And lo, if I didn't once have a standard poodle, going back to the pre-Fuckover days of 1996 or so. The ex kept the dog, which was OK with me as I was travelling with my job at the time, and it died a few years ago, and she now has a replacement standard black poodle.

Then a "friend" of the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker "happened" to stop by, so we moved tables. The freakshow then re-assembled, taking turns, around my vacant seat. I also got more Unfavored freaks coming by; fat and disgusting "Gut Strut" males, skinheads on show, red hair, those ridiculous baggy shorts on men below their knees, and others that I am not allowed to recall at the moment. It didn't help that the perps kept me dumbed down and tongue tied for this coffee rendezvous. Which further heightened the question as to whether this Fat-Girl Farm-Worker "pal" isn't another Fat Girl of US national prominence in morphover, and who has figured in this harassment a number of times, and has even been seen on a few gangstalking events. I am not going to get into this particular aspect of the harassment and abuse any deeper, as it is already strange enough. Observant readers can make their own deductions.

And so the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker found a job in the last day, a needed antidote to nine months in horticulture school. And too, the employer didn't reveal what the pay rate was. Which is almost exactly what "happened" to me in the last two days; I get a temporary fill-in job at a vineyard, one I had interviewed at for a more senior job but was not offered it, and they don't tell me the pay both times. I have had these emails from the "Fat-Girl Farm-Worker" every week or so in the last three months I have been away in Penticton with "miss you" and like statements, which is suggesting future romantic intent (to me at least). Each time I have talked to her on the phone and in person, no such leading statements or intents are mentioned. In fact, I am more turned off in these direct encounters,  like today. Not to mention that there isn't any attraction. And too, the harassment and abuse that I deal with is rarely mentioned, another example of someone with more detailed knowledge of my circumstances who is strangely lacking any curiosity. Not unlike the New York Times reporter I spoke with at least three years ago now, and detailed in a blog posting at the time.

And too, in keeping with the perps' games and props, the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker had to show me her bruise on her side she recieved from her Felco pruners, and giving me a look at this purple on white baggy skin (digusting) on her side midriff. She had just come from working at a plant sale, so I suppose she had absorbed "plant energies" which was similar to my prior morning, as I was slinging soil and treating plants too, at the First Feral Family house where I am temporarily residing. I go back to Penticton in two days, to start the vineyard job.

And too, the Fat-Girl Farm-Worker came with her tool belt and Felco pruners, the identical kind and model as my pair that I own. So she had to show me her pruners and her knife twice during coffee, when it was patently ridiculous to be even wearing these items at a trendy-buzzy coffee house.

Afterward, I drove back to the FFF house, and spent two hours power washing the rear patio surfaces. The perps like to often arrange this activity around me, and it was my turn again, having done the front yard driveway three days (or so) ago. And lo, if they didn't also have a neighbor start a power washing job only 100' away, to be somehow heard over the noise of the power washing I was making. The small black helicopter also came out to do a circuit overhead, and then a larger Sikorsky S-76 also came by later. There was STRATCOM B-52 noise as well, though I wasn't tuned in as much when I had the power washing noise in front of me.

And this morning, I got up early to get the compost slinging ready for tomorrow, which was when my perp-abetting mother returned from shopping, and she just had to lean on the compost bin with both hands as I was removing shovelfuls of it to place on an adjacent blue tarp . (Different levels of compost breakdown piles will be amalgamated into one pile tomorrow). It doesn't get any more obvious than that, someone leaning on something when they don't need to lean on it in the first place. Seen it many times, and all the more ridiculous when the perps have been hounding me for over five years over compost handling, and now have to make it (as in gangstalking) look so plain. That Ms. C of the story got her Master Composter training back in 1999 to 2000 surely wasn't a coincidence.

I am posting this tonight, as I will do a single post tomorrow, the 10th anniversary of when this fucking insane abuse began.

Potato Mush

10-25-2011 I am wearing new shoes acquired via my newfound "habit", now in its fifth time, of getting clothing that is heavily discounted at Sierra Trading Post dot com. This brought on, major extra attention on the bus headed to the farm job, double the number of "regulars" on the bus at 0715h.

And my co-workers were buzzing all around me and couldn't help but getting in my way at every turn, especially while dealing with the rotting pumpkins in the bins and sorting them out. See below on why so many pumpkins are going rotten.

And re-washing packaged potatoes again, so many of them are severely mushy as they get tipped out of their 50lb boxes onto the conveyor line where I am to be picking out the most rotten ones, leaving the rest to be graded down the line.

10-26-2011 A run-down attempt with someone starting their red pick up truck from a stop just to get me in the intersection, the Fuckwit looking at me and pointing his finger at me while making the corner in front of me. Never have I seen someone so deliberate in getting in my way on a walk signal before, as the Fuckwit could of turned earlier, but chose to initiate his right turn as the walk signal turned on.

A payday; my check "forgotten" while everyone else got theirs, handed out by the farm administrator at the carrot conveyor line. Then, about an hour later, she came back while I was beside the clattering potato washing/packing equipment. This does fit the pattern of isolating the circumstances and location of when an event of perp interest occurs to me, and having it arranged elsewhere, especially with background noise.

10-28-2011
Alternating potato re-wash with bagging carrots. Plenty of rotten spuds and mush to deal with, never mind the rain for most of the day. A way to have me take my rain coat on and off at least 8x, and having me wear these wonderful Blue Storm rainpaints, also inside for a 40 min. spell while bagging carrots. By mid afternoon I took them off as the sun was begining to peek through and the rain had abated. So.. at various points, some 5 kinds of blue that I was wearing, in various combinations. Not to mention the extensive brown cardboard box handling and getting them thrown at me again. I have never encountered so many blithe and belligerent action (long form for saying "accidentally on purpose") in all my life, just throwing a carboard box behind them without looking knowing that I was close by and moving about well within range. I don't get it; the first order of throwing something is to make sure that no one is in the way. Seeming a lost concept at this farm work, unless of course this entire gig is scripted.

Double negro day on the 0715h bus, as they haven't shown in weeks. One in a day-glo yellow toque near the front, and at the next stop the crotch-wide-open negro construction laborer (a repeat from last time) in brown overalls The second one needed to re-tie his boot laces for some reason, getting him in the "crapping pose", (a favorite perp pose while seated but leaning forward for no apparent reason).

10-31-2011
I had better get this done or it will go on for weeks. A bit of a surprise, as I thought the farm job was to end on Oct. 31, but no, the farmer said "as long as you want", which I cannot take literally as I really want to take December off if I am to go for three months of classes in Penticton starting in Jan. 2011.

I finally get it; very mushy rotten potatoes for re-washing (after being packed into 50lb boxes two months earlier), and even splatter that got on my clothes. It was to be a big potato washing day as it is the last full day for the three remaining Mexican farm workers, but lo, if we didn't go pumpkin picking for an hour. And there were very many rotten pumpkins there too, as they didn't cut the green stems before the plant died down and the rot translocated along the stems and into the pumpkin. Funny, the farm I worked at two years ago did the same thing. Then it dawned on me that the underlying theme is rotting, or composting vegetable matter, whether it be pumpkins, potatoes, and latterly when on the packaging line, carrots. The decomposition of live matter has some unique properties the perps are looking for via my interaction, being kept in a densified magnetic field as well as mind controlled down to everything I see, hear and think. And I have mentioned the perps' exasperating interest in composting leaves and garden waste before. Also, Ms. C of the story did her Master Composting Certificate during the dating days of 2000 to 2003.

Week; Aug. 02-08, 2011

08-02-2011
Picking raspberries at the farm, then pick weeds in the carrots, but everyone but me and the dippy black haired Caucasian (I think) girl got called to clean potatoes. But after 20 min., we too got called in to help cleaning potatoes, like this was a set up of incrementat introductions. And lo, if the conveyor belt didn't go squeakiy, which then served as the excuse for one Mexican and one turban wearing Punjabi to putz around me. And do I know that squeaky conveyor sound, having sorted daffodil bulbs in the prior three years? Also a flattened cardboard box was placed near me for no reason after potato washing was done.

08-03-2011
Farm work again; raspberry picking, strawberryt picking, potatoe washing (production line), weeding, wash more potatoes. Possiblly all to keep me wearing my pants over my shorts, as the weather didn't cooperate for me to wear shorts while raspberry picking. This seems to be a big deal of late, along with the "need" to get a tan on my legs. I got fooled into thinking it would be tanning weather this morning so I put my shorts under my workpants. But the clouds closed in and so no tanning possibilities. So it would seem, along with the perps' underwear fetish/control, that they wanted to work me through many different jobs today, with shorts under my pants which were worn all day long.

08-04-2011
Picking strawberries, then pick raspberries and then weed strawbs while rest of crew, save the raven haired girl and an add-in girl from the farm market store work nearby. They seemed to be paired for some reason, and the add-in girl isn't a farm worker as she works in the store only. Then I was working  on the potato washing conveyor line,  with the exact same hassles as past conveyor work at another farm jobsite. The person next to me was frequently obstructing my access to getting the items off the conveyor. The perps like to set up these fucking games where someone grabs something I was set to grap, and the offending co-worker makes no bones about not being unapologetic. In another stunt, when I was walking the farm road between the potato line and the raspberry patch, the supervisor drives by in her BMW within 12" of me for no fucking reason, as there was at least 4' of road width availible to her with no obstructions or potholes. And it seemed to be a set up, as an oncoming vehicle was stopped and waiting some 80' away, with headlights on. And we do know how the perps like to put TI's in lighted conditions, except this time it was in broad daylight and with the asshole supervisor pulling this stunt, surprising me from behind by driving so absurdly close. Fucking rude.

My missing watch was found by the farmer's son, though he didn't explain how he did so.

I got to wear my shorts while picking raspberries today, but the tan line came out all wrong by dint of of some perp fuckery, 6" further down my leg than the bottom of my shorts.

Evening beam-on-me games from the E. apartment towers in turn. The Pink Tower was beaming me when in my apartment for the prior 40 min. prior to going to the LD store. And when entering and exiting the store, why, the Pink Tower faux reflections were beaming on me there.

Another new jerkaround at financial transaction time was a reflectance off the card reader panel that was strobing. Don't I get enough stroboscopic fuckery (dappled light through trees) in any given day? Seemingly not. The dudes in their baggy low cut shorts were out and about, and I suppose this is seasonal wear, not unlike six months ago when this "dress code" was prevalent among the male gangstalkers.

08-05-2011
Picking strawberries after an hour of potato washing work on the conveyor line. And for raspberry picking I was given S. side row picking, excellent for leg tanning while wearing shorts. And a decent tan too, to the top of my shorts this time.

On the city bus ride freakshow ride home; a bald (skinheaded), baggy shorts wearing male in commercial painter chic, having paint splats on his shorts, shirt and hands (what commercial painter takes the city bus for crissakes?, and what commerical painter wears shorts on the job for crissakes?). Said dude plants himself in front of me for most of the bus  ride.

A tanning session tonight, and lo, if the stalkers aren't in place once I exit.

08-06-2011
A little more evening time as I left work at 1600h, per sort-of prompting from the prevaricating supervisor. She said that everyone was going to stop at 1530h, and I said I would too. And at 1600h we were still picking weeds in the carrots, which had begun at 1515h after picking raspberries since about 0900h. After finishing a section of weeds and meeting up where someone had weeded ahead of me, I decided that 1600h was plenty enough. As expected, whenever I finish something a confluence of noise and co-worker/gangstalking action erupts. The strangest was a flock of Canada geese overhead, flying only 20' above the field and them divebombing each other and squawking in a sorting out their V-formation territorial/status positions. Then one of the Mexicans who took off 15 min. earlier for no seeming reason returned as I was packing up, essentially in lead-ahead gangstalking mode.

Then at the warehouse, some 4 minute walk away where I clocked out, two Mexican workers were also posted there. In addition was a red welder's service truck, "putting on the red", and I assume, serving as a color reference inside and out as it was parked broadside to the open garage door to the warehouse. The two Mexicans coursed around me as I changed up my boots for my street shoes and put on my coat. Withouth fail, someone is hanging around or over me whenever I change my footwear there, and all the more so since I now leave my heavy hiking boots there and wear my street shoes commuting. All last year, and for the past two months, I wore my hiking boots to work and back, only exchanging them for gumboots if it was wet out.

08-08-2011
1830h
I was slinging compost for most of the day at the First Feral Family house, putting it through a sieve and piling the sieved material, the screenings and coarse debris separately. And another pile for the plastic trash that somehow gets in and I am compelled to remove. I got screwed into a 10.5  hour sleep at the FFF house and was witness to my perp-abetting mother digging in the compost pile ahead of me when I was at breakfast. She explained that it was to put some on top of the active food compost pile, in an adjacent box, but as she did such a poor job of it I assumed it was more of a "pre-stalk", going through the exercise ahead of me. Funny, I hadn't told her I was going to do the compost until she came back in the house.

I got my regular fly-overs from aircraft, and the neighbor noise of chainsaws and leaf blowers. The stream of hotrod muffler noise was duly started up while I was outside. I didn't finish the job of screening the large composte heap today. This was due to a smaller sieve that "showed up" three years ago when in the prior year there was a larger one and I was making good progress with it. I asked my mother who took the larger sieve and supplied a smaller one and she blew me off. And of course, as the perps have such an insane interest in compost, and sieving it through metal screens, it makes more sense that they fucked with the sieve to slow down the job. Which is what they routinely do for all activities; slow or disrupt work all the time, especially infrequent ones. It makes one wonder about the larger context and to the level of engineering jobs and projects, and problems they have over work completion.

A city bus freakshow ride into downtown, and lo, if the commercial painter act wasn't doubled up this time. The dude with paint splats on his clothes and then on his hairy legs, one of those fuckwit dudes that "needs" to wear shorts no matter how ridiculous it is. This dude went through four relocations on the bus, one being a "buddy" chat with the driver, then back to his original seat, and then on sentry duty for three stops before he got out. Just before he made his trip back to his seat, why, another painter dude got up from his seat and went to the rear door before his exit from the bus. Like WTF; this is totally absurd to have these paint splattered tradesmen (har, har) on a city bus, and then to have two on one trip, and then to have two such events (per above) in one week. Who writes these absurdities?

1930h
I got screwed out of my Monday tanning session by two minutes; the place was locked up. And that was caused by getting screwed out of attending to my laundry soon enough, as the bedsheets were in the dryer, and I pulled them out beforehand to get the bed made up. No regular habit/appointment goes unfucked for long.

I stopped in the LD store on the way back and was treated to my freakshow at at the chocolate, with at least one Asian man on his second gangstalking in recent months in idential circumstances. I got a three negro loose cluster gangstalking outside and inside my apartment lobby. One sauntering female negro in purple for crissakes some 30' ahead and coming toward me, then suddenly a negro dude in white and red steps into view, apparently exiting from the lobby, and on the inside, the regular lollygagging negro holding court on the couch was at it again, talking to an Asian male. I got screwed out of the elevator for the third time in a week, reading "M" when I went to press the button, why it took off for an upper floor request. Taking the stairs for six flights isn't too much of a bane as I do it quite often now to avoid the gangstalk clusterfucks in the lobby that seemed to be stacked with freaks from the Unfavored classes.

I got a telephone message from a person with a very robotic and uninterested monotone voice, indicating that they are interested in having me in  for an interview, making reference to my past work history with an aircraft maintence firm. So I look up this outfit, and they are a financial services outfit. Translated, it spells bullshit call, though I will return the call to find out if I am dead wrong, a state the perps like to put me into very often.

Enough of the routine and onto posting this blog for the week.

Compost Day

2035h
A high intensity gangstalk, noise and harassment day today, one of the big ones of the year, making compost. A 3 hour job of putting two piles together, layering them, wetting them, and cleaning it all up for a heap some 4'x'6 x4'high. There is something fundamentally central to the perp agenda, and it has to do with decomposition and/or digestion, and I have no idea why. Ms. C (thought to be girlfriend at the time) of the story, a planted operative in all likelihood, did her Master Composter's training when I lived in Seattle. Anytime I put the garden fork or shovel into a pile, as I was working three of them, extra noise would sound off. Later, the next door neighbor came to add his well timed coughing.

Anyhow, here I was in the backyard of the First Feral Family property, total whitebread suburbia, and this infernal noise parade went on the hole time; hotrod vehicles, performance mufflers, heavy duty diesel engine rattling, aircraft noise (including at least three STRATCOM overflights), and even a lawnmower noise for crissakes, in January. They also put the over-noisy Harley Davidson motorcycle noise on, with at least a 30 second long trail off, and within two minutes, the same fucking noise comes the other direction. Fucking bizarre. Regular readers will know it is the most loathed noise of all, and I have no idea why, but it seems to relate to the numerous motorcycles the perps put on parked display, not even running and no associated biker. Does anyone out there have some MKULTRA history from the 1950's that they know about, and that it involved motorcycles? Lynn Moss-Sharman speaks of head shorn subjects with tattoos on their heads, which ties the skinheaded gangstalkers and the tattoo-ed gangstalkers in, but as my recall was 95% wiped out from age 3 to 5, (1956-59) I have no idea why the perps are so fixated on the infernal noise of motorcycles.

Other perp excitement today was to have me take a new bus route, from the in-town brother's place after looking after his cat, to the FFF house to start the compost work. That got me extra redcoated gangstalkers, with the red bus livery. And even my own babe escort, as they were posted around me and not the usual dude show of late. This is what happens when on a new bus route.

The regular bus route that I took into downtown at 1614h was chock full again, some 40 passengers, and at first I got the hoodie blonde next to me, and she was replaced by the fugly slouching dude in short order. And, not too many freaks on board, a welcome change.

2400h
And I see my tabs aren't saved when starting Firefox, in contravention of the explicit checked box that is always so. My regular six tabs; yahoo, imdb, TIWorld, Amazon.Com, Amazon.Ca and Google get wiped out every time I close down Firefox, which never happened before, but started up along with the PC slowdown games.

Enough adversity rants for a day, and time to blog off.

Post Compost Monday Blues

2105h
A short post as I have pissed most of the afternoon away since I got back from the First Feral Family visitation and did two and a half hours of leaf raking and compost building. The USSTRATCOM overflights, or noise thereof, started yesterday night when I was in bed, now heard from inside the house in another first. There was at least four overflight for the time they kept me awake, and likely six or so while raking leaves this morning. No contrails today, and no flight path deviation and altitude reduction so they could be plain obvious like a few weeks ago. But plenty of helicopter and small aircraft noise to keep me company while I got into a rage-ified state over the new bamboo rake that self destructed with the tines pulling out. Thats what one gets for a $10 Chinese rake these days, even if they are more comfortable than plastic ones that emulate them.

Then off to the carpet store for my mother to get samples, not to mention whatever it is that the perps have so fixated on with respect to carpets, often driving them around in pickup trucks as part of the vehicular gangstalking scene, just like the wood they also use as a prop. I suppose the color "experience" was part of the deal, as they showed varying colors and textures, not to mention fabric types. Then a drive to the doctor's office, and what an insane amount of vehicular gangstalking, vehicles puliing out from behind to hold me up at a left turn, not to mention accelerating into the intersection to foil my intent. And that seems to be a big deal, foiling intent, from driving to purchasing, to whatever set up they have in mind.

The doctor had another doctor in the office, so I got to tell my story yet again, some 10x now, for the victim "tourists". She was blonde, young and plain, no attractive babe distractions allowed for this session, no sir, not like yoga. She was heavy into her (irritating) leg placement an movement while seated, not unlike what my mother does with obsessional frequency when watching TV, except this young thing could even sit on one leg, having it horizontal at one point. The perps kept me in a quasi-verbose state, not entirely controlled and as fluent as I would like, and had me on the verge of mispronouncing words, all to have me repeat them. I have been through this conversational state imposition before, and I am fucking pissed that I am not allowed to be myself, especially in front of a doctor, though nothing new in hindsight. Anyhow, a big perp day, Mondays, especially when they pack in extras like leaf raking, composting, carpet viewing and then a doctors' visit.

I see my mother had the cable company visit this past week, and the white jacketed cable was replaced with black jacketed cable in the wall and crawl space, keeping short white cable for the digital modem and the DVD player, which still cannot be reliably accessed to function. My mother pissed with the remote control and got the DVD to play, but couldn't figure out how she did it. Meanwhile, they won't let me play the DVD through the TV, so nothing new there, imposed futility is part of the abuse mix. As mentioned before, the color of the cable insulation and jacketing is as important as the color of the metal in the wires and cables that feed the devices that they have me view, including his here LCD as I type.

And on the city bus freakshow, another all time first; a normal youngish woman carrying a doll, some 16" tall, as if it were a child, supporting it and holding it close. Were are talking about the perps needing me to see a small scale child-like figure for some reason, seemingly part of of their interminable scale games, where bigger and smaller versions of objects, or part objects, must be displayed for me to see. Another all time batshit crazy Fuckwit stunt.

Back to this den in the afternoon; Abuse Central, and online surfing again, a seeming vital requirement these days, though often not being allowed to get on with what I want to do; check out jobs and order a RAID box to back up this PC, as I am fucking fed up with the mickey mouse solutions that I get stiffed with. But it all follows a pattern; I ordered two large hard drives 10 months ago as in-PC back up drives, and now after they have been installed and running all this time, the "need" comes on to have them mounted in an external enclosure in a redundant array for better data security. Like I have said many times, the perps have this need for "fallow time" where items will sit around in say, a horizontal orientation to then be put into a vertical after they have determined then end of the fallow cycle. And of course, magnetic disks are absolute heaven for them, as I have been kept in a densified magnetic field since 2002, 1600 Gauss in 2009, and routinely deal with masers and plasma beams, both magnetically controlled phenomenon. And given the intense interest of the perps to have rotating objects near me, vehicles as a major example, but bicycles, strollers and the rest of it, a rotational magnetic drive is absolute heaven in furthering their nonconsensual human research agenda.

That is about all I was going to post today, as I am somehow disinclined to go into details, a point of deliberation I have about this blog; more blow by blow details of the unconventional abuses or just a summary kind of blog posting like this one? All my faithful followers and readers, no more than a dozen reads per week if the Blogspot statistics are accurate, can let me know what kind of level of description is that they like to read about. And history repeats itself, no one will answer me, and so I will carry on as is. No bad feelings or anything, I have a suspicion this blog isn't widely read for reasons that relate to the ongoing harassment, and the social isolation imperative that continues unabated.

New Bedding, New Farm Job

1650h
I am typing this as some extra loud dude talk is somehow getting to my hearing. I closed the window and there was no difference in the dude talk level, so I put on the earmuffs and it was somehow getting through, so I took them off. And to add to the regular noise cacaphony, the sirens and the Harley motorcycle noise has also been played. The perps just love me to overhear male voices, loud enough to be heard, but not to make out the words.

And the joblessness as a farm worker didn't last long; the dear old daffodil bulb picking job is on for tomorrow, and lo, if it wasn't timed for when I will have first slept in my new bedding acquired yesterday. My mother messed up her notion of her friend's birthday party location, and arranged me to drive her there, but as it "so happened" she could of driven it herself. So... I had the vehicle for two hours, and as I was witness to my bedsheets being ripped after laundering them earlier, the notion arrived (read, was planted) that I could use the vehicle to go to a suburban mall and get bedsheets, pillows and a mattress cover. The latter were strangely yellowed at the head of the bed, and were annoying me as to how disgusting they looked.

By the time I had finished my driving, and shopping, and dropping it off at my place, there wasn't time to remake the bed with the new sheets etc. So it got to sit around in its packaging for a day in this apartment until I came back from my First Feral Family stayover last night.

As regular readers will know, the perps are obsessed over the packaging of everything, and any and all energetic interaction it may have with the contents, and latterly, the interaction of the contents and me. So getting me up at 0430h tomorrow and taking the 0635h city bus freakshow with the gangstalkers and weirds will be big deal, as I will still be resonating with the energetic interaction with the new bedsheets, mattress cover and pillows. And as the old bedding had yellowed (somehow), and the new bedding is white, I am sure to be getting plenty of color testing between the two.

And I will be starting work with the farm that I spent the past two summers at, picking daffodil bulbs. So much for thinking, (likely per planted notion as they do love me to be dead wrong), that I would have a week off from the berry picking job like last year. What all this means I have no idea, but doing farm work, and especially working with plants, or plant portions (e.g. bulbs, tubers) is a big part of the perp research.

They were all over me with neighbor noise earlier today, when at the First Feral Family home doing weeding. Then I went to the local shopping center with my mother to get brown cardboard file boxes, and then returned to do compost spreading. The 4' high pile was down to less than 3' high, and it had been formed from dropped leaves and needles in fall of 2009. Now, it was tight packed deep black organic matter, and it seemed that digging and spreading it brought extra neighbor noise, not to mention aircraft and the SAC overflight noise. Also "showing up" was the suck truck to clean out the drains, one in front of the FFF home of course, and worth 30 minutes of visitation with all the flashing yellow lights at the front of the house. As mentioned many times, the perps also have an obsession over placing vacuuming equipment in my proximity, and I cannot count the number of suck trucks I see now. Vacuuming the drains was once a rare event, but now I see it 3x per year per neighborhood. And what does the perps' obsessions over weeding and composting have to do with each other? I have no idea, except there must be some commonality of the energetics related to each, say, a universal life force they wish to quantify. And as they have had me weeding or picking fruit nearly every day since early June 2010, it would seem that they want to "borrow" or compare the weeding/fruit picking results to that of compost slinging. Ms. C of the story did her "Composter Masters" training when I was going out with her in 2001, so I can only assume that was part of the pre-overt harassment warm-up before the perps went overt/beserk in 04-2002. If nothing else, I can make a mean pile of compost, just like last year. And that it was covered in plastic for all that time, and occasionaly watered with varying hose ends of varying materials and colors, so I am sure that is factored into all the variables my tormentors seem to be juggling and attempting to remotely detect.

2240h
A 30 minute phone call earlier before evening tea and chocolate break from one of my former farm coworkers. She is to have an interview for a berry picking job, a new height in hiring in agricultural laborers human resources practice. Thats the only avenue that I get jobs it seems, by way of mass hiring, and weeding out the non performers. A long way to getting an IT job it would seem, which may be the next gig after farm laboring. Getting an interview seems to be an random event in this town, and with the scripted life model, per perp machinations, it makes sense. They want me on weeding, composting, fruit and vegetable picking and other plant parts, and that takes place in the summer mostly. Like why didn't they direct me to agriculture instead of forestry way back when, so I could of got my weeding done as a student summer job instead of laying this bullshit on me now, three decades later?

And an email exchange from a former work colleague went ballistic today, as I complained to him about his characterization of me with mental health associations. He was one of those who I "bumped into" at the hospital, in 2002 and who later retrieved my belongings from a Seattle storage unit as the US border patrol wouldn't let me in to clean out my apartment in 2003. At the time, I gave him ample evidence to indicate that I was being harassed, and he even aided me in identifying some of the driving manouvres I had seen as that of police or other law enforcement training. As far as I was aware, I had amply defended my case in his eyes as there was no further discussion. Then in the last month I get two emails heavily imbued with the mental health angle and I launched a polite but factual missive that detailed all the professional determinations of genuine harassment that I have been informed of. As expected, I get this angry polemic that is off the topic and doesn't address the arguements I made, nor any hint of objective re-assessment on his part. In other words, blowing up, not arguing the point, and otherwise evading any objectivity as to my central complaint; that mental health considerations have absolutely nothing to do with this imposed state of abuse. In other words, more of the same, but from another party that backslid on the then (seeming) convincing facts related to organized harassment at the time. One cannot buy a friend even, let alone have them stay with the facts as presented and then muddy the waters with more bullshit at al later date.

A doctor's appointment today; the featured "student" was an Asian woman who asked me a number or questions as relating to this campaign of abuse and nonconsensual human experimentation. She wasn't very dark skinned, and was dressed in a red and white dress that she fussed with a few times. She also had a 5" brown blotch on her leg, which the perps wanted me to see more that I would of usually looked. The perps had me verbally stumbling a little, and were sucking my mouth dry at the same time, also a source of minor speech impairment. Last month, it was an Asian male doctor who was the featured "extra" at the appointment, and I was much more verbally fluent and without stumbling or mispronouncing words. I was totally on last month, and say, only about 85% of that level today. Funny how that happens. Which begs the question, as to how do they decide on what level of verbal fluency I have and for what circumstances?

Anyhow, that is it for tonight, as I will be doing the early rising thing again, 0445h or so, to catch a 0635h bus to farm land.

Composting With a Helicopter Escort + 11-22-2009 Updates

1915h
Back to one of the perps' very favorite themes, composting. The farm I am working at has a significant composting facility, and lo, if I wasn't shovelling and lugging it about in plastic crates. These stacking plastic crates number in the tens of thousands, and are being set up as the support, and then the containment for waist high growing beds in the greenhouse. One of the large greenhouses, about 120' x120', is being set up to grow tomatoes and cucumbers, and the empty crates needed to be brought in, arranged in an orderly fashion like Lego blocks, and then the digested compost filled ones were brought in for me to place on top. They were about 50lb when filled with compost, brought on pallets by the fork lift, so there was plenty of plastic action, me lugging them with the filled crate leaning on me, as well as plastering me with compost soil on my pants and sweater.

I was in the greenhouse for the first part of the day, lugging the compost filled crates and setting up empty ones, and at the end of the day in a howling wind storm, I was filling them with composted soil, (no smell). I was effectively swapping places with my laboring confreres, as they were on the lugging and plastic crate placement duty then. I don't have any TI complaints about the task, but the perps are beserk about both my exposure to plastics of all kinds, and too, compost. Long time readers will know that Ms. C of the story did her master composter's course, she being the planted girlfriend from 2000 to 2003. And I shovelled and seived a 3' heap of compost at my mother's place last week, so I reckon I have had plenty of "composting action" in the past week, but one never knows when it slips from a minor perp obsession to a relentless theme. I reckon they wanted to detect my compost interaction energetic signature in both locations, however they do it, and whatever they get out of it.

And my fourth pee of the morning was immediately following the compost in crates activity, with plenty of co-workers buzzing around me. It seems that the plastic interaction initiative of the perps is still going strong, as there will be even more people eating produce that gre in plastic crates, something that profoundly interests the perps as well. All packaging and growing situations for food, as well as irrigation water supply pipe types interests the perps as well. It is one of their more benign interests it would seem, as I don't usually get much hassle when actually slinging the compost. But they do like to add plastic scraps back into the pile when I expressly seived them all out when I created the pile at my mother's place. Who knew that a billion dollar/year budget covert agency would be so totally obsessed over compost, and that it would be an abiding component of their ongoing psychopathic life rape activities that passes for the normal TI experience.

I had at least two helicopters hovering overhead for my outside composting shovelling, and at least 12 float planes, many of them directly overhead and only a mile S. of the airport. They would of left Vancouver harbor, and are S. bound to Victoria harbor, passing within a mile of the airport. A little odd, having a flight path next to an airport, but I don't know where the designated flight paths are.

And by dint of good perp planning, the outside compost heap was directly lined up with a back road, and lo, if there wasn't at least 12 vehicles coming slowly down the hill, headlights ablaze, with me directly in their beam while at the compost heap. The one visible house also added to the light games by putting on all their outside lights at 1530h, most odd. Then when it was a little dimmer, around 1615h, the fork lift came by with its lights on, which was needless as one could see perfectly fine. But as all TI's know, the perps go to absurd lengths to keep us "in the beam', lights trained on us of varying kinds, bulb types, intensities and distances.

2155h
An unholy number of gangstalkers for a five minute sortie to the local supermarket in the ongoing windstorm. One pair of freaks reprised four times in the store, managing to end up in front of me at the checkout, and then the vile red/pink hatted woman of this (sort-of) couple was in lead-ahead gangstalk mode for the two streets that I take to my apartment. I got skunked on the bulk mixed salad again; it was wilted, and there were no viable alternatives. At the farm, I was to order a mixed salad for Friday, but I learned today it was picked over for a order. The ingestion and digestion of salad is a big deal for the perps, and they seem to be keeping me on a biweekly menu; eating it one week and having it "wash out" for the next. Infuriating, though this salad fixation only started a few months ago, as it had been dormant since about late 2004.

And I had my double freak escort at the ATM at 0700h this morning, just before getting on the bus which had extra freaks on board as well. Only a check deposit, but that is indeed exciting for the perps. They had the leaf blower dude out, of no apparent affiliation (not a city maintenance worker), the third one for a six minute city walk. Never mind that it was patently absurd with the wind storm still playing. Regular readers will know the perps like me to be around wind currents, vacuum cleaners and blowers, and I suspect this is true for most TI's, as it may fit the theory of there being "vortex energies" all about us, and creating a localized version is a way to possibly highlight some extra energetic interaction with the victim.

11-19-2009
What is with the freaky glove colors that are getting presented for me to see? Green, blue, purple, you name it, the perps ensure they go through the distance dependent checks as to my reaction and how it may vary by distance. One one case of green gloves some 25' away, the person was talking to me and waving their hand around, and lo, if a same green plasma flash didn't erupt either side of the gloves.

Another day of lugging 30" long x 18" x 12" deep plastic crates filled with compost and placing them in waist high rows on top of other crates in the greenhouses. I learned that 9,000 strawberry plants are on order, and when planted two/crate, that means some 4,500 crates will have to be manually filled by my shoveling compatriots. Each crate is supported by four crates stacked below it, so that amounts to 18,000 plastic crates I will have walked past, and a lesser amount for handling to build the stacks and then the compost filled one on top.

Then I noticed that 80% of the said crates come with one or more corners slathered in a shit-brown clay. Not only does it look the right color, but has the same wetted look to it. There is no rational explanation as to how this clay got there, as it is not at the compost pile, so how did it get there when it isn't even a local clay? The perp's shit games take a new turn.

A raging storm today, as well as driving wind to stir things up. I left work early as I usually do on Thursdays to get to my evening Oracle courses, this one on PL/SQL.

And how did this negro kid in the heart of white Central Saanich get ahead of me at two bus stops? He took the slow bus (#75) departing at 1543h from the same stop (Saanichton Exchange) that I was waiting at, and 8 minutes later I took the more direct routed bus (#73) (1551h) and there he was at the Royal Oak bus exchange. I looked up the schedule and he would of got there 16 minutes later after my bus had departed. He does his hang dog loitering act at the bus stop until my bus leaves (with me seated on the right side to witness this chicanery), and lo, if he isn't loitering at the downtown bus stop prior to mine, "somehow" getting ahead of the bus again. That he had a hoodie in the same blue as my jacket wasn't a fluke, but how did he twice get ahead of the bus when I was on the most direct and fastest route?

11-20-2009
More lugging of 60lb plastic crates all day, each full of composted soil. In the latter part of the day I was directed to join my laboring compatiots outside on crate shovelling duty, and then we all enjoined in placing them on the stacked crates. So.... after a near whole day of being in the greenhouse in crate & soil reception, I was part of the all-together change in work assignment.

A late day storm came on then, forcing me to wear the dayglo orange raincoat, and with the earlier sunsets, the perps pulled a very sudden dusk onset, darkening the clouds within minutes, and then putting on a rare thunderstorm for this area. They then arranged darker plasma beams around me, a relatively new phenomenon, but I suppose they wanted some contrast data, and the accelerated dusk onset was part of their jerking around at this time of day, and the red color fixation that goes with it. I had plenty of others clustering around me while back in the greenhouse in my dayglo rain jacket, so I wasn't ignored while this herding was going on.

11-21-2009
1900h
How is it that my attempt to load Carbonite Backup failed, even after disabling the antivirus program to accomodate the installation? More games and jerkarounds it would seem.

Most of my day got derailed onto composting activities at my mother's place this time. Back to the perp's abiding interest in this topic. I borrowed the leaf grinder from my ex and ran the leaves through it. Naturally a number of things "went wrong", per usual. The trimmer string suddenly came off at one point, necessitating an installation of new string. The always-happens-to-me thing again, as I have never run one before. If the perps are arranging games over composting, one can be sure the harassment has at least 8 months or so to run, as this is how long composting will take (in a heap, and including latencies for not getting around to the compost dig over in a timely fashion). And the perps are especially interested in me repeating this year's composting underneath the black plastic sheet. And too, they like me walk over the level ground where this year's compost heap was until I sifted it two weeks ago.

I thought I would have a lazy day putzing at home here, but no, my mother somehow recalled that I was keen to get the leaf grinder (like a stationary string trimmer) from the ex and put all the leaves through it. (And too, this commitment was "forgotten", something that never normally occurs). Cold and windy it was, and thankfully I had my warm coat with me, the long travelled microfiber coat and warm grey fleece inside. This coat was my abiding companion in the intense harassment days of fall and winter 2002, and has kept me warm in many vehicle sleep-outs the assholes have pulled on me at the time, as they wouldn't always let me stay in my apartment because the head pain beams were so intense. Then the doctor at the time got great mileage out of this detail, attempting to cast this activity into a larger clinical picture. Funny how the doctor knew to home in on this detail.

2255h
More restless legs nonsense again; I never had such a problem until the harassment started. And a bout of nodding off as I write this is also coming on. I will attempt to post this blog now, before something else erupts.

11-22-2009
1200h
FYI; a few add-ons in the above posting if you are coming to read this for the second time.

I won't get to do a separate posting today as there will be an afternoon First Feral Family visit soon, and I want to get back to the PL/SQL course study again, something that is now very obviously perp constrained.

Last night's restless legs and general restlessness culminated in a never-before 2130h bed time, unheard of unless ill. Then a 12 hour sleep, getting up at 0930h, another never-before sleep duration, but a good way to constrain study time this morning.

And I see from my email that three comments in my blog were posted but NOT moderated or accepted by me. I get at least six comments per day, many of them spamming and also in an unreadable foreign language that I routinely delete and never post. But as of today, I am getting comments posted that I did not moderate or accept. Funny how this bullshit "happens" to me all the time. The comments cannot be deleted once posted, or at least on this version of Blogspot I get to see.

An excellent posting by Wise TI about the realities of dealing with law enforcement and other allied assholes of the perp criminality.

2235h
More additional bloggings after this was posted.

Leaf raking with the First Feral Family this afternoon, the Feral Fossils (aka parental quislings, the ones that gave me up for this fucking hell from the get-go) and I. I also operated the leaf grinder, and there were bountiful red colored leaves to process, unlike yesterday's predominance of brown colored leaves. And need I say that there was extra similar deep red colored vehicle gangstalking when we were all in the vehicle at 1630h, near dusk onset? Plus there was the bright red plastic housing of the leaf grinder inside the vehicle as we ventured on after dropping off my father at the care home to my ex's place, the owner of the leaf grinder. Just too much red opportunity for the sickos. The leaf grinding is for the preparation of a new compost heap at my mother's place, not unlike the one I built this year. As always, there will be some variations on the compose theme at the First Feral Family home; more red leaves, more worms from the kitchen waste pile, and so it goes; combinations and permutations ad nauseum.

Only to be followed by my walk to the bus stop and the bus trip back to my place where ever more red vehicles were in extra frequent proximity to the bus. The perps also seem to get great mileage out of dimming the lighting conditons so that I can barely percieve red at night, save the over-utilized brake lights of course. Not too many freaks on the bus tonight, though about 15 others on board, and one shooting a strange glance at me. I had a two cell phone escort for the most of the bus trip, so I am sure there was much more to it than I am aware of. The hoodie dudes got pulled early in the bus trip; the perps have me reactive to this mode of dress now, when it wasn't a big deal a year ago. I wonder if this has subconscious traumatization associations as well.

And more forced "emo-trashing" tonight over the TV news; these are event where the assholes make me much more emotional over the stories when I never cared much before they went overt on me since 2002. And then they played the same story twice on two affiliated news broadcasts, just what I needed. Time to get this posted and done with.

Pitched Crumb Battles

1250h
I am getting a number of reboots, "self erupting", of my Yahoo mail, so time to start the daily list of adverse travails delivered by the relentless and insane tormentors. I know, seven years of life rape, and they are still pissing around with crumbs, and the faux crumbs that are really divots in the laminate counter and a new one on the oven handle (white, with a black divot in it).

The latest escalation in this tedious and ongoing skirmish over crumbs is the re-introduction of milled flaxseed into my breakfast diet. Back in 2006 when I gave up my vehicle, I also reduced my food sources to the local supermarket that has now served me in three residence locations. One of the items that couldn't be found was milled flaxseed, no big deal as I also add a tablespoon full of hemp seed (legal here) to my cereal. As it so happened, I "found" flaxseed when I was getting skunked on finding baking soda for the second time, and have begun adding it back into my breakfast cereal. Well, it is like no other flaxseed as it won't float free in the cereal bowl, but gets "stuck" on the bowl. Routine practice after eating cereal is to rinse the bowl out in advance of doing the dishes, but the new flaxseed particles won't lift off but stays stuck in a facade of some 100 or more small "crumbs" on the bowl surface. (Too many to individually chase down). Then when the cereal bowl is cleaned in soapy water with the other dishes, there are flaxseed crumbs still remaining after I scrub it extra hard, and even at that, the last few need to be manually removed after rinsing. What was formerly a no-problem food item has now become the lead jerkaround/escalation over the crumb fucking games the perps put me through each day.

The flaxseed crumbs are of a fine nature, and more than even the ground coffee crumbs which mysteriously erupt on the stove top (adjacent to making coffee), and those that also erupt on the drain mat after the dishes have dried. There is also a mysterious crumb accumulation in one of the cupboards where I keep the olive oil, and after getting jerked around with crumb games, (they somehow resist being carried down the drain with flowing water), I cleaned this dry crumb mess up. As soon as I did, an eruption of outside road noise, heavy duty vehicles and Harley motorcycles came on as I cleaned up this cupboard crumb mess that slowly accretes over months. They even showed me one of these crumbs teleporting in a few days ago, as if I didn't know how they got there, as there is nothing nearby that could create the spillage.

And the coup de gras of the crumb games is to create a spill on the counter near on of the crumb-like divots in the laminate counter, and then jerk me around into "thinking" the divot is a crumb, and an additional crumb is a divot. This dumbshit event (been there, done that) was duly accomplished by them flicking some of the ground coffee when making coffee from the spoonful onto the counter, and then having me clean it up with the kitchen sponge. There were three locations in fact; the crumb-divot area on the counter, and two on the white enamel stove top, one being a regular crumb deposition site. I never had any problem differentiating between the real crumbs and the faux crumb divots in the past, and all of a sudden such a misperception erupts as part of this arranged crumb confusion game. And what clinical explanation for that transitory event is there? And now that the sirens are going as I type this up, getting through my earmuffs no less, one can be sure this entire dissertation on fucking crumbs is of more interest to my tormentors than it is to me.

And more of the First Feral Family doings have unfolded today. My out-of-town brother, wife and child arrived yesterday afternoon, and no call from them. Then a call from my mother around noon time saying they are going out later to visit my father at the old folks home, and could I take the bus out later in the afternoon for family dinner? Fucking bizarre that is; no one phones for nearly 20 hours after their arrival, and then a request to later take the fucking city bus (freakshow), on a Saturday no less, when the bus schedule is much more sparse. The fact that I will be packing a bottle of wine from last September's excursion to the Okanagan maybe part of the perp excitement; having it take a longer duration journey to the First Feral Family than via getting picked up. The plan may change, but it all sounds so fucking hokey and exclusionary. I suspect they all go to to rehearsals for the scripted mind-fuck show that will be the First Feral Family dinner, hence this long familiar pattern of ignoring me for the first day when my out-of-town brother and family arrives.

Other jerkaround action today is to keep a mild smell of damp mildewy clothing up my nose, at least once every five minutes or more, and continuously for the past few hours. The window is open, and there is nothing that would be such a conventional smell source, as I am so fastidious about smell abatement and anything else that could be deemed as an excuse for olfactory perturbations. I am also getting the overhead rumbling noise through the earmuffs as I type this up, the 12" of concrete of the above ceiling/floor somehow can be selectively rumbled overhead, and can even be relocated to the kitchen or dining table if I am there.

So it looks to be a dull shut-in day until I take the city bus out to the First Feral Family dinner as mentioned above. Somehow, I "forgot" to cash my paycheck this morning from the cleaning job last night, and it is still in my wallet. I suppose the perps might be dithering me so I end up cashing two paychecks together; the strangely delayed one from berry picking and the one I presently have. It is very common that similar activities are combined into one visitation event, in this case to the ATM. The perps like to create events where there is more repitition and quantity of the same activity. In this way, they can better deduce what neural activities are consistent, and what are situational and dependent on the paycheck source, paycheck color and the rest of the minutae of variables they find so fascinating, and need to manipulate.

Other perp action today has been to add plasma beams, often of red hues, to sit over the keyboard, be displayed over the LCD screen I am using as I type, and in my peripherial vision where they first like to test these various colors and perturbations. They even had a red plasma beam in my shoe last night as I took off my socks, and before the sock was placed in it. (Where I keep socks if used but not needing laundering). It was accompanied by a red plasma flash beforehand, over my jeans, and another one afterward, somewhere in the room. Normally the perps put on a blue plasma display from dark corners and other locations, so it was most odd to see red plasma lighting up the inside of my shoe.

And a new jerkaround to go with eating blueberries. While eating the blueberries, and in my mouth, they will partially open my lips and then have a blueberry squirt out its juice some 10" or so, even if my teeth aren't bearing down on a blueberry at that particular moment. I suspect that the perps' mouth contents squirting games will intensify because eating food, in all its textures, colors and dynamic nature, is something the perps cannot get a handle on. This is evidenced by the many ambulatory gangstalkers with their mouth contents exposed, eating food, spitting or otherwise facilitating mouth access in my proximity. The all time dumbshit stunt of this type was having a trail of barf in mid-day on the sidewalk that went on for 300' or so, culminating at a queasy looking native Indian stretched out on a bench seat. So yes, mouth contents, only being a 1/2" away from one's brain, the focus of realtime remote study, is an exceedingly intractable study area the perps have not yet fully modelled, and thereby expedite their mind-fuck research/abuse games.

Taken 06-23-2009, 1836h. Some intersection action, this time blue color games with red and brown vehicles on the side. The street passing from left to right has two deep red vehicles with a two-tone light brown pickup between them, a parked deep brown Volvo 244, and a silver-grey parked vehicle, usually as a reference. And then, on the street on the left, passing from the foreground to the top of the frame, there is a cluster of blue vehicles, possibly using the blue awning as a reference. There are three mid-tone blue vehicles on the left side of this street section; two are alternately parked with two silver-grey vehicles in file, and the third mid-tone blue vehicle in motion with a light metallic blue vehicle preceding it, ready to make a right turn.












A close up the light metallic blue mini-van making a right turn, and the above mentioned alternate alignment of the mid-blue parked vehicles with silver-grey vehicles (two of each), and the mid-blue vehicle approaching the stopline, maybe stopped.












But we need to add more blue from the other direction, said the torment-master, and so it was thus that a mid-blue vehicle came from the left side and is passing in front of the three same color blue vehicles (two parked, one is stopped), and too, we need a grey-scale reference, and so one from the opposite direction was arranged to cross paths in the center of the intersection. The orthogonal deep metallic red vehicles parked also seem to serve as some kind of red reference as part of this decidedly more complex confluence of blues, silver-greys and reds, with some earlier brown vehicle action. Another light metallic blue and a silver-grey pair (a Volvo 245 like I owned for 15 years) are parked left-most, likely as a fixed reference in the orthogonal direction for the light metallic blue vehicle that took the corner, shown above.












And a final silver-grey vehicle to pass straight through the intersection, with another vehicle in the opposite direction, hidden by the tree (seems to be a white vehicle, or silver-grey, both greyscale colors by the definition I use). And a final Fuckwit in dark blue jeans and white gets to take the corner with his bicycle. No wonder I don't stand out too long when taking photos as the arrangements keep coming on.












That should be a wrap for this rather dull shut-in day, getting me primed for a later First Feral Family dinner tonight, city bus freakshow mandatory. The perps like to keep me in and then go out late in the day, hence the now-former part time eveningtime cleaning job at a local car dealership. These same patterns keep emerging, and I am always open to hear about other patterns readers may detect in these postings.

2015h
I took the city bus to the First Feral Family home, and my sister-in-law and daughter were there. My brother and mother were still out. Later they arrived, but the entire dinner was straight out of the perp's playbook; delay it by 1.5 hours to increase the hunger level, save for the child who eats first while watching TV, and even gets to throw some of the food around the living room. (Aged 4). Resident freaks on the city bus trip were a blondified male with tattoos on his bare arms, a very large woman in red, and a woman who came on with the same color of top that I was wearing, a powder blue. The freak count was on the low side for a city bus trip, but as this is a long weekend, perhaps the perp fuckover games are also muted.

I sensed the exchange between brother and sister-in-law was on the testy side, and it seems there isn't the cooperation there was, but more of a mutal challenge between them. I wonder if the perps govern their relationship, or at least monitor it. It seems clear that the perps don't do anything to help them, but to leave things as they are, even if on a downward trajectory. It is all too curious, and too, it could be faked just for me. I haven't figured this one out yet; for them, or for other relationships among the First Feral Family.

Anyhow, I did some gardening work, ensuring the composts were kept watered, which might have been all part of the script as the perps are totally beserk about composting. Ms. C of the story did a Master Composter course as part of her gardening schtick, which seemed to have represented a genuine interest at the time. Anyhow, I get plenty of elevated noisestalking when attending to compost piles, be it re-digging them or otherwise tending to their construction or maturation. That included aircraft noise tonight; at least five flyovers while attending to the compost and reading the newspaper outside, some 40 minutes in all. One flyover was totally out of sync; helicopter noise with a jet aircraft above. It is time this dumbshit bullshit ended.

Other dumbshit bullshit was getting a ride from myh in-town-brother back to my place; he made out he forget his cell phone and then did a U-turn to head back and lo, if he didn't remember within a minute or so that he had the cell phone in his pocket and reversed yet again. I told him he didn't have to change the route the second time as he was still pointed in a direction that took me back to my place. I got a blow-off excuse as to why he did this, and then I mentioned that this was the identical move that the fucking gangstalkers pull on me all the time, and why he found it so fucking funny. From then on, all I got from him was diversionary talk about his garage sale exploits, and then later his interest in relationships, with me doing most of the talking about unilateral reneging on implicit agreements. I had enough about that bullshit, and it seemed that we had the same complaint about spouses; taking us sideways without involving the other party in a decision reversal. Funny how I keep "finding" the same behaviour pattern, Ms. C and the ex as one example.

A restless feet episode means I will have to cease blogging for awhile.