Working With the Males

06-20-2017
Everyone else late for work today, save the "Difficult Dick", the one who offered to throw me a pitchfork (for no reason), a few months back, plus two other like-minded stunts. Normally I avoid this person to work with, though there were prior friendly associations (lunchtime CD exchanges). So... as we are tucking the vines into the trellis wires, best done with in pairs, each person working a side, he was my obvious working partner. We started out for about 10 minutes, and all was OK, and chatted some along the way. Then the boss man came along and needed the "Difficult Dick" to do some perimeter spraying for weed control. The boss man substituted himself and became my tucking partner for most of the day. He of the constant shades (owing to sunlight sensitivity I have recently learned), and now sporting a warm toque on a hot day. All went OK.

At about 1430h the Difficult Dick came back, and was swapped in as my tucking partner for the remainder of the day. Again, no big deal. But what is it about swapping out personnel around me? Same as checkouts, which seems to feed the perps' need to gangstalk my ass with a new cashier just as it is my turn at the checkout.

06-21-2017
Summer Solstice today, and a ridiculous amount of vehicular gangstalking this morning. Nothing too weird or strange the rest of the day; just "regular" amounts (8/day) of aircraft, including a gyrocopter this morning. Another male co-worker swap event, this time the Difficult Dick was swapped out for the boss man for two hours; swap time was more like 4.5 hours yesterday. The Difficult Dick stank of something smokey this morning, so I assume it was a starter spliff before work, as he parks nearby some 30 min. early and sits in his vehicle to "enjoy nature". Then he comes to work some 20 min. before anyone else and goes through his obscure parking routine, where he parks well away from everyone else. (So maybe he can have his post-lunch spliff, which I have witnessed).

After two weeks of spinning my tires, I was finally allowed to phone LL about proton beam therapy for possible prostate cancer treatment. Don't ask me why when I want to get onto something important like this I get sandbagged into doing nothing. It would be roughly $86k for an uninsured patient, and 9 weeks of treatment. Big money (4x annual salary in $CAD) for a vineyard worker, especially with the Canadian dollar exchange rate being 1.40 or so. And still the perps flooded me all afternoon (after the phone call) with notions that LL is going to be part of my "future", read, harassment script. Like WTF; I cannot afford it in the least, so what is the deal? And why not X-ray therapy an hour's drive away at no cost? The perps have been beating on this LL proton beam therapy since 08-2016 when I first read about it, making me almost obsessed over something I simply cannot afford. The whole scenario is absurd, as it is planned.

On the planning end they screwed me out of my dopamine agonist medication in 2002, which in hindsight IMHO, then caused the prostate cancer in 2016. Because, as I learned last year, dopamine also operates like a hormone in the "peripheral" systems, (non Central Nervous System), including mediating the immune system. While attributing causal might seem like a stretch, especially over a 14 year interval, I am going to stick with it, and assign this as yet another clinical assault. I was doing the right thing in 2002 and as I see it, this fucking harassment now seems to be leading to this present state of prostate cancer. Other supporting clinical games include a colonoscopy 2 years ago, bone scans, CT scans, all needed for patient evaluation for proton beam therapy intake. Funny how that "happens". Am I also scripted to win the lotto to string this whole escapade out for more drama, or is it yet another futility exercise taken to more heightened inanity? The perps always have a plan, if nothing else. We shall see.

Tonight they had me researching the driving route to said LL facility on Google maps. Talk about adding inanity to futility, I just don't get why I am being put through these unrealistic scenarios that are financially out of reach.

06-22-2017
Another day of working in the vineyard, and perhaps for the second or third time this year, full-blown sunshine from beginning to end. These kinds of days should be a regularity from May onward, but haven't been. It wasn't too hot, 24C, so all was well weather wise. I got to work with the Difficult Dick again (ponytail and all), this time all day. He just had to change into a singlet top at morning break and show off his shoulder tattoo, to add to his Unfavored state for the day. He seemed amenable to conversing in the morning, and we even had some commonality over ADD symptomology, but he, in keeping with perp controlled conversation, seemed to not want to continue the dialog. Call it yet another case of conversational "drop outs", where the instignator suddenly ceases conversation for no seeming reason. This behavior of others began when the perps first went berserk/overt in 04-2002.

In the afternoon he got ornery, so he was back to his usual grumpy self, having his post lunch time spliff no doubt. Even one of the other crew members upbraided him, kindly, about being negative. I had a good (quiet) laugh over that, staying out of the interaction. I still cannot comprehend how I get stiffed with such losers all the time. Call it the farm labor pool.

Today, in continuing the perps' planted notions, I still got nailed for planted LL proton treatment considerations, and they still pummel me with the notion it is part of my "future". That I am getting increasingly incensed over this blatant futility exercise might be why they backed off some.

I got nailed for a two hour nap attack when I got back from work today; as usual there was no sleep deficit to need this extra sleep, especially of that duration. 

I had "morning sickness" until 1100h, and at one point I thought I was going to lose my breakfast, as it got a little worse. So far, this morning time nausea has only "erupted" here at my residence on weekends; not a work, yet. I was also stiff in my hip joints and with a little back pain; so it would seem if all this is dopamine mediated, I could well do with a dopamine agonist in my regimen. Plus, I was in a grim mood all day, so it would seem all these symptoms are traveling together. I should bother the walk-in doctors for something, as it seems my wait list time for a shrink could be many months.

And why did I need to get pit-lamped by two red vehicles when I arrived at the SOF parking lot tonight? I get out of my vehicle, and they both arrive, two seconds apart, and park identically, driving through a stall to then face me as close as they can. One parking stall apart, and dissimilar red colored vehicles.

Then more pit-lamping (or "brighting") when I exited the mall (where SOF is); this Fuckwit in his oversized pickup truck was approaching, looking to drive over the crosswalk, axially, with me in his headlights. I walk wide to avoid what looks like to be a pending rundown, and then he pulls to my R, and then proceeds to back up, with his tailgate approaching me while walking through the handicapped parking. I couldn't get away from the fucker at a walking pace. Then he proceeds forward to stop in another handicapped parking stall for all of 30 seconds and then departs. All he had to logically do was make his turn onto the access route, avoiding the crosswalk rundown potentiality, instead of this absurd pedestrian (me) endangering fuckery all to show off his headlights, and then back up lights. I haven't seen anything so deliberately stupid for quite some time.

More gangstalker dip-shit driving games this morning at the intersection where I make a L turn.  Opposite me, this idiot makes a L turn from the through lane, crossing one vacant lane to make his turn. The perps just love these games; unexpected behaviors, the stupider the better.

06-23-2017
An Elvis tribute contest in this town this weekend. I don't think I will make it, just like past years. I wonder what Elvis must think, perhaps in another physical place, per the film Bubba Hotep. (Not forgetting that science fiction films often portray real, but suppressed, events. Hence Twin Peaks, X-Files, and Star Trek).

I got to work with Difficult Dick all day today on tucking the vines in trellis wires. I have never met anyone who dithers and pisses around so much, all suited to dipping in and out of view, as well as backing and forthing. And who obsesses over so much in the vineyard, always finding an excuse to delay some more. I reckon I could of done 50% more work today if I had someone who was motivated about getting things done, rather than his obsessive routine. Even the slow pair were keeping pace with me and the Difficult Dick.

I got a referral to a medical specialist back in April, and was given the phone number to find out where I sit on the invariable wait list. Guess what, I am not on it, the referral never got to the specialist. Another managed fuck up to obstruct my medical care, as if I haven't had enough of these over the past 20 years, even before the assholes went berserk/overt in 04-2002. Prior to that was the all time jerkaround, four successive doctors blew me off about not having ADD. It was getting desperate, (or at least, the perps made sure of that), and when I got a SPECT scan it came back exactly as I told the doctors, ADD-Inattentive subtype. Fucking absurd, but that wasn't the end of it, as they took my stimulant (dopamine agonist) away in the outrageous stunt with paid-for doctors after 04-2002.

Forced back and forthing after the drop in doctor visit to get two Rx. He only gave me one, and when I went back to the doctor's office the receptionist said they were both on the same piece of paper. I said it wasn't and the pharmacist didn't say anything either. So I go back to the pharmacist and she gives me back the now stamped Rx and I take it back to the doctor's office and before I said anything, the (not too pleasant) receptionist gives me another Rx without so much as "sorry". So I take both back to the pharmacist to get them filled. Like WTF; what was that all about? The new Rx gets its own piece of paper and gets duly processed, and later retrieved with the pharmacy stamp on it and taken back to the doctor's office. Then a second Rx, a refill, gets taken back to the pharmacist's with the first one. Was it the stamped paper, or this back-and-forth paper shuffle the perps seem to like so much? Or was it about the strange dude pair who needed to stalk me into the parking lot and walk past my vehicle ahead of me?

06-24-2017
Saturday, extra vineyard work; curiously, no helicopters at all today when 10-12 were "normal" last week. Maybe three fixed wing flyovers. Also curious, was that no one else was in the vineyard, not even the boss man came by.

And I see the FDA is hard a work crushing alternate cancer therapies; IV vitamin C is banned if this article is to believed. Maybe not in Canada, but I have my doubts that so-called Health Canada is anything more than a FDA subsidiary. (In the 1930's Royal Rife had an effective cure for cancer and worked this system in full support of conventional doctors. The FDA shut this advance down). Not only is IV C effective for cancer (or some cancers), it is effective for addressing drug addiction (read, acute dopamine deficiency). It just isn't enough that 650k go down every year with cancer in the US and Canada, (and 500k go to Mexico for alternate treatments), and now addiction problems need to be protracted and extended. I wonder if the FDA can be sued for cruel and unusual punishment?

06-25-2017
Sunday, and another day in the part time vineyard. This time some other activity; a backhoe was run and the boss man came later in the day. And still the perps pummel me with all manner of notions of going to LL for a plainly unaffordable $86k proton beam prostate treatment.They haven't let up on this since I phoned LL (above). But in fact all of this has intensified since the call, and this has been on the "thought pummeling" script since 08-2016 when I first learned about it.

More excruciating leg muscle cramps last night; this was timed during a two hour restlessness where they had me "thinking" about a link in a posting at OG, where there are left wing (a misnomer IHMO, more like reverse racists) who have "white (Caucasian) exclusion days" at certain educational institutions. It was the first I heard of this latest public inanity/subversion, so the perps kept pummeling me with "thinking" about it while keeping me restless and awake in bed. And rotating me on my cot as part my attempts to get relief from this and to get to sleep. Then they pulled a major leg cramp and had me piss into the shower stall while keeping my leg flexed to avoid more cramp pains.

Tonight, just as I was to turn on this PC, why, a major leg cramp came on. All in keeping with their relentless fuckery over switching things on or off. I cannot count the number of times in a day when the screw me over turning light switches on or off or any like initiation of action.

Anyhow, enough for a week's posting and getting this done.

Snow-On

[Prematurely posted on 02-07-2017- my apologies]
02-07-2017
A good 6" of snow overnight Monday (yesterday) got my attention for driving in it on the way to the vineyard job. Surprisingly, it wasn't on the vines, even if it was soft and fluffy. I suppose this is keeping with the perp games over water in all its forms; frozen, liquid and vapor (at times, e.g. keeping me unaware the kettle is boiling). And of course, driving on snow is a big deal for the perps as they love games with rubber. And too, at the vineyard, having me walk in the tire tracks of the foreman's pick up truck, the easiest ground to walk on in these snowy conditions.

After lunch, things suddenly started going wrong; a phone call where it got cut off before I could answer it, I cut the wrong vine or cane,  I cut a trellis wire with the electric pruners, a phone call from the ex's son whom I haven't heard from in 10 years. Mondays are extra shit days as things seem to be arranged to be going wrong. Funny, they didn't hack me on the vineyard job all last week (3 days), and not for Monday morning, and then after lunch, it all went for a shit.

Today, a mid-day interruption in the form of a dental appointment. I hate dental appointments in the afternoon, but for some reason the dental office phoned me up to change the time the day before. Like WTF; I never had this problem keep happening so often as now. The dentist had her face mask on so I got to look at her eyes only while she was talking to me, another stunt the perps like, partial face coverings. Later when she took off her mask, she wasn't anywhere as pretty as her eyes. The dental assistant had a coughing jag, that took her out of the room for some 6 minutes, all in keeping with the very common perp tactic of removing stalkers once they come close; this happens all the time in at yoga when waiting for the class to start. A strange Asian woman was at the counter with the dental office assistant, as if she was being trained. I cannot count the number of times someone is placed side-by-side with the regular staff as if in training, and yet I never see them again. I suppose they wanted some "Asian female energy", and all the more to do the work of writing down my appointment times on a card, and later, giving me the receipt. And of course, being present when the financial transaction was conducted.

As part of the deal, I got a wax casting for a crown to be later made up. Interesting the wax is red and then turns white over a few minutes until it is set. Talk about a made-for-perp event, changing colors in one's mouth. I cannot count the number of times the Fuckwits (paid-for stalkers) parade around with things in their mouths, looking totally stupid, e.g. stir sticks, suckers.

The I returned for work for two hours, and then the aircraft over flights poured on. Then they had me cut a trellis wire again, then immediately dumped me on my ass in the snow, and when getting up, I see they screwed me out of pruning an obvious vine. So what was the point of that, putting these three obvious stunts in sequence. No question they got me riled up at first by having me not see the trellis wire and cutting by "mistake".

Yoga, last night, down to 10 participants, and the babe count was way down. The very attractive babe in the separate top at the W side was gone after being a regular for four weeks, as was her equally attractive neighbor. The dude count was two around me, this time one to the W, another to the S, triangulated this time. Last week it was this absurd and extra-obvious arrangement of having the dudes arrive on either side of me. One of them returned from last week, this time wearing some offensive cologne that I could smell from 8' away. The perps have a way of placing and enhancing smells into one's nose, or maybe directly stimulating the brain.

And today, I have the lower abdomen aches and stiffness in greater degree, presumably "from" yoga, even if I never had this problem in taking yoga for the past four years each week. Said sensations have been of concern for me as I have thought this might be due to metastatic prostate cancer, but of course I got blown off about this from my doctor visit on this past Saturday. These aches and stiffness have been ameliorated by re-starting paw-paw, which adds to my metastatic prostate cancer theory. And of course this is great mind-fuck fuel for the perps as they play up my notions of mortality, e.g. making a will, how I will attend to the details etc. All to heighten the FUD (Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt) that is such an essential component of perp games, and all the better (for them) it is all about pondering one's own mortality. I say it is big game, as they don't seem anywhere near done their non-consenual human research, the ongoing disruption about what foods and supplements I take in what order and their respective order and timing.

02-08-2017
More snow, about 2" in the afternoon and continuing into the evening as I write this. About 200m visibility, but that didn't stop the aircraft overflights, not that I could see them. One helicopter was buzzing around for 20 minutes, not your average airport arrival.

Still on the MMS1 therapy, and it seems to be holding up OK. The MMS2 therapy could not be found anywhere online on the weekend, "out of stock", and the perps keep dithering me after work so I don't get to a pool supply outfit. The one place I did look had the "pool shock" product (calcium hypochlorite) adulterated with other products, e.g. "4 in one", so it seems the greater Thems are closing in on allowing this product to be available in pure form. It makes me wonder if this whole health care realm/industry isn't one big jerkaround for mass experimentation along with added patient vexation and possibly demise.

And while pruning vines all day the perps pollute me with whatever mind-fuck games that are on script. For the past week, as mentioned in this blog, they have inundated with me notions of my demise along with supporting lower abdominal sensations, aches and stiffness, which suggest metastasized prostate cancer. (All of which can be remotely spoofed). They even had me planning to purchase a walking cane, as it seemed walking was even becoming labored. But today, they planted notions that the cancer was now getting better and it will be all over soon. Awfully nice of them, coming from the world's worst prevaricators, for whom malevolence is just another passing notion. Anyhow, the MMS therapies will continue for a few weeks and I will report on this every few days.

Scaring me to death, notionally, isn't a new mind torture for them in my experience. Back in the helter-skelter high abuse days of 2002 there were at least two such events in Seattle, and they pulled another in 2003 when back in Victoria. So here we (might) have it again; my own notions of my demise are greatly exaggerated after going through senseless amounts of grief in believing it to be so. I am not out of the woods yet by any means.

And what is with the sudden inundation of black hairs? At least three on my keyboard, some on the kitchen counter, and five in the bathroom. All discovered within 10 minutes or so, as I cycled from one area of my residence to the next. "Normally", they have me discover this many planted hair situations over the whole evening, some 4 hours or so.

02-09-2017
Another day of pruning in the vineyard, 12" of snow on the ground now. Not much fresh snow during the day, but at least 4" in the night, all to be plowed this morning. It was at least -8C, and the the wind started up to reach 20kph. Not the best outdoor working conditions, but I was warm

The lower abdominal sensations, possibly metastatic prostate cancer were abated some, but came on more in the afternoon, and into this evening. As usual, I got skunked twice on getting MMS2, so we shall see where this goes.

I was driving home on a two lane in-town secondary arterial with no commercial shopping within blocks, and there was this cluster of some 8 women on the sidewalk, like they were all a little stunned, standing around as they were, for no determinable reason. Some had barely adequate clothing for the cold and snow conditions. As I am driving by looking at this strange collection and attempting to discern if there was a legitimate reason, and then this negro male becomes obvious as the women separated and my angle of view changed. So what was the point of this total clusterfuck idiocy? I have commented on the babe-then-male gangstalking arrangements before, and now for the first time, we have a women-then-negro arrangement. (That is, Caucasian women, none were lookers of any degree). Fucking absurd, and all for 2 seconds of view time as I was driving past.

02-10-2017
Friday, and pruning work in the vineyard. It was below freezing this morning, and by afternoon it was +7C. Like a chinook, except this is the wrong place for it, these sudden warming trends all in a single day. Needless to say, the snow melt started up and is now slush where it is aggregated.

One the metastatic cancer front, if it is that, I got some shooting pains on my L side, and my lower abdominal region felt stiff, when it certainly should not of. Yoga is becoming a problem in that the lower abdominal aches and stiffness set up in the following days, now four later. Normally if I finished yoga, I never noticed any sensations as I am reasonably flexible. Needless to say, all this FUD as to what I have, and what damage it is doing and where it is taking me is running my life, as in questioning my own mortality. But the perps have pulled these games in the past where I figured I was done for, all to have a last minute reprieve.

I get some reprieve from these aches and the odd pain from MMS1, and have upped the dosage all this week. I started the MMS2 tonight so we shall see where it all goes.

02-11-2017
Saturday, and a day off per Mon-Fri workday schedule at the vineyard. I started the MMS2 program in earnest today, and it does feel horrid for 20 min. after ingestion, though much less than chemotherapy I am sure. Now 1430h, and I am feeling less lower abdominal aches and pains, and even a little more energetic.

The gangstalking insanity was all over me after I departed the laundromat with my just-clean towels and did some shopping. I ended up at the tanning salon after an hour, and even that was a gangstalk, with these Fuckwits clustered outside, then three more waiting inside, and when I got out, another three loitering clustered Fuckwits outside.

Now later; the MMS2 felt horrid enough that I puked it up.  So much for getting better. Perhaps the MMS1 will keep me in there.

Going back over the last two years, there was at least three times with different parties that I mentioned MMS1 and it super-oxidative properties, such that it would cure malaria and some other difficult-to-treat viral diseases. Each time, the other party just said nothing. I find it astounding that such a significant paradigm changing therapy got absolutely no discussion or interest. Which concurs with my ongoing perceptions that my conversations are arranged, and in keeping with this sudden "clam up" response I get, no matter the import of the topic. I have called it "sudden conversation termination", a unique and strange interaction with others that suddenly erupted when all this shit came down in 04-2002. And in this case, it suggests this episode of MMS1 was planned some two years ago at least. Bait me to talk about the product, have the other party do a "go-blank", and then eventually (years) have me use the product. All part of being in this rabbit hole, though I could do without metastasized cancer, (if that is what I have in fact), and the rest of the symptoms that at least emulate it. I see an irradiation cancer specialist Feb. 22, so we shall see what comes down on that account. In the least I should be able to get an officially metastasized cancer determination. And maybe a pain killer medication prescription just in case.

02-12-2017
Turns out that my MMS2 dose was twice what it should of been, once I re-read some different instructions. Even at that, I had a problem with the first dose first thing in the morning before having food. But I do feel better, creaky/achy hip joint wise. And no pain in my lower lumbar region. I quit the paw-paw again two days ago, so there might be some transition issues there too. The paw-paw was giving me pressure on my kidneys, and now two days later it seems to have resolved. We shall see; it seems the challenge is to keep the MMS1 and MMS2 schedule without losing any food.

Yellow in, yellow out. It is just about everytime on the hour that I take 10-12 drops of yellow colored MMS1 (in water) that I am forced to piss, either immediately beforehand or afterward. The pissing urgency problem has been going on and off, depending on medication efficacy, for two years. And though at a tolerable level thanks to Tamsulosin, but no thanks to the urologist who didn't tell me about it, the pissing problem is exquisitely timed for the intake of yellow dyed water the MMS1 mixture. And all the better I presume for perp color matching games when this takes place on the snow when doing vineyard pruning work. And leaving those yellow tracks behind. No wonder they timed the start of this seeming metastatic cancer problem almost exactly to the day I started the vineyard job, Feb. 01, 2017. It seemed after the first three days that I would not be able to continue at all, not due to the job itself, but being able to operate pain/ache free.

In fact, after three weeks and forgetting about my job application to a large vineyard and winery operation, they phoned me Feb. 02, asking if I was still interested. This would of been full time, and would of been on the viticulture staff, and would of involved Geographic Information Systems work. They asked for a phone interview Feb. 06, Monday, and I said yes. Well, as it "happened", I felt like shit due to these seeming metastatic cancer problems, that I had to tell them on the Monday that there were health conditions that were of prime consideration, and would not be a candidate. On paper, this was a dream job; full time, some of it outside in the vineyard, and utilizing GIS technology as I had been trained on, taking a year long course in it. The job would of taken me out of the manual vineyard labor scene into which I have been cast into since 2012, following four years of manual crop farm work. And thanks to the timing of these health problems, I had to turn down an interview for a job that offered huge prospects of getting out of the manual labor rut. Thanks a bunch assholes.

Ahh, the bait and switch phone calling; My TI sometimes Sunday caller phoned, but I never heard the phone ring because someone turned the ringer off. She left a message and then said she would call in 10 minutes, but that of course often means 20 minutes. And lo, if my perp-abetting mother doesn't phone just when I was expecting my TI caller. I cannot count the number of times where I get set up to expect a return caller, or text message nowadays, and lo, it is not, but someone else. The "dashed expectations" stunt. Been there, had it done to me so many more time since all this shit rained down on me in 04-2002, and it hasn't let up.

One more day off for me; a government mandated day off in February, called BC Family Day for crissakes. [Just now, an almost total delete of this posting due to an imposed finger blunder; been thee and had it done to me also].

I best get this posted before anything more peculiar "happens".

Interupting the Music Player

11-23-2015
And what is the latest gimmick all about; stopping the music player in mid song? The formerly reliable J River Media Center now just stops in mid song, and won't resume unless stopped and played anew from the beginning. The assholes have been pulling this now and again for years, but 3x in an hour is an escalation. [Two hours later; my PC music player was stopped in mid-play over 10x, then I turned it off in total outrage that I cannot be allowed to play and listen to what I want and when I want. Though if you follow this blog any, nothing new there].

And I suppose it fits the latest planted infatuation; a sudden need to listen to Patsy Cline (no complaint there), and then  "finding" a Patsy Cline biography at the bookstore two days ago, (now read).

More "biddy stalk", this time at yoga, one each side. One even called me "young man" while setting her mat up immediately in front of my view of the instructor for crissakes. Ridiculous; I am 61, and look 35 (age regressed),  and I might well of been older than her tubby self. I didn't take the bait, but mentioned something else relevant and didn't get a reply, the typical "conversation baiting" games when everyone goes blank to ensure the pre-selected topic gets no further discussion. This bullshit has been going on since the get-go of the berserk/overt events of 04-2002 and a few times earlier to present edification.

10-24-2015
An inch of snow, icy roads, and keeping the victim clueless, all to give me a 360 spin on Naramata road at 60km. I ended up nudged up against a bank, no ditch, and no oncoming traffic. No dents even. No luck involved of course, all pre-determined. And why in the fuck did they not have me lift my foot off the accelerator for crissakes? Basic driving instinct is now remotely governable by the Psychopathic Authority. Nothing new there. Back in early 2007 they almost had me cross the road as a pedestrian when there was an oncoming car. That is no fluke, especially when I have been in constant threat assessment mode since they first went berserk/overt in 04-2002.

Many planted notions of a certain female TI coming to visit of late. Give me a break, and it is not personal; I had a (now ex) wife of 20 years who could fuck anything up, never mind jerking me around many times. Why would I trust anybody, and all the more in this overt abuse/harassment situation? Add on the fact that anyone can be remotely mind controlled, and TI's are at the front line of this scourge. Though in fact, perhaps most everyone is remotely mind controlled to some extent. It boggles the mind as to how this can be accomplished, but how about all those cell phone towers that keep going up?

So far, above mentioned music player is working fine; no apparent upgrades from the software vendor. Funny how that "happens"; spontaneous problems followed by spontaneous fixes. To the perps; how about leaving the thing alone in the first place? But as music seems to facilitate deeper mind mapping, music playback (from whatever original source). is of intense interest to them. Never mind the album cover color, album contents or lack thereof in the case of digital files.

10-25-2015
Phone disruption/obstruction games again. I have been waiting on a call for a few days for ice wine picking, as it is a temperature dependent event. And, I make sure my contacts list is together so if I miss a call, it is identifiable in the log. And lo, when I look in my phone log this morning, I see that I missed a call yesterday when I was out of cell range at the vineyard job, and of course, no message. Ditto today, the assholes timed a call so when I was in the shower, again, no message, from a different caller but from the region I was expecting. I call back, and lo, the phone is busy.

I get a call from the doctor's clinic that actually came through, and most curiously, the office wasn't identified on the screen. Like WTF; why am I getting this repeated obstruction as to the source of my calls and also preventing me from getting back to whoever called? In the latter case, all to screw me out of a $120 worth of picking pay presumably, and no less, adroitly timed during my two week wait for unemployment benefits. From the "thankless gang" to yours truly. Which will never be forgotten if I have anything to do with my recall.

A need came on to get my chest hair waxed, so those that I miss plucking can get pulled too. One attendant each side, and the instructor at the spa school, chatted to me the whole while. She of substantial size, at least 220lb, and I was lying down and she was standing nearby, so I was looking at her from below. Her face seemed a little slimmer, and unusually, her hair was in bangs over her forehead. Wearing eyeliner, her eyes from my perspective were decidedly looking doe-like, and attractive as far as I am concerned. I hadn't seen her is this configuration before, but I suppose it was the perps way of "dressing her up" to look way more attractive it would seem. The wax job was all over in a remarkable 15 minutes, and so I was done the first waxing in three months or so.

Two of three full grocery bags split when retrieving them from the vehicle, and lo, if the maple syrup bottle didn't fall to the asphalt and break. (I rarely buy it, but somehow got keyed up with a recipe to make candied pecans). I haven't had such an obvious grocery dumping and breakage stunt since 2004 when they pulled a bag out of my hands, again after exiting my vehicle, and sent it to the ground (asphalt) and broke the olive oil bottle inside of it. It was the only item in the bag as it so "happened" so I carried the dripping remains to the nearby bushes and left it there. But as the perps are consumed with trees and tree sap, I should not be too surprised, though of course being so memory governed now, "surprise" is governed too.

11-26-2015
The assholes kept me up awake in bed for three hours, having got to bed on time at 2230h so I could sensibly awaken at 0600h in preparation for my drive and doctor's visit in Kelowna. No 360 degree spin outs thankfully, and the road was mostly bare, even if in subzero (C) temperatures. I had my vehicular cluster/posse around me at times, or else blocking both lanes to stop me from passing. At least they didn't slow it down too much, though they do like to swap certain colors in and out. A tractor trailer transporting propane seemed to be the largest vehicle to tail me from Kelowna to Penticton this afternoon.

How I spend my time; someone shut down the headphone device in the Control Panel, and that took 40 minutes to figure out via J River, which had been behaving itself for the last day.

A visit to the attractive blonde doctor in Kelowna today. My iron isn't getting absorbed, and some other test results are looking too low or high. More supplements. And nothing she could do on the urination urgency front. I did my bit to tell her that non-dyskinesia Parkinson's symptoms (low dopamine) have a very high alignment with my lifelong symptoms, but she said there was nothing she could do for me. And no one else either it would seem. Onto Popeyes to get mucuna pruriens where the weight lifter boys gave me the particulars. I swear the perps were shutting down this particular supplement in Canada, but it seems they have allowed me to purchase some for now (in person at least).

Apparently my testosterone isn't getting into me via dermal rub in, so now I must stick myself with a needle; just what the perps ordered to ensure there are abreactions for them to discover/monitor. As it would seem from "Thanks for the Memories" by Brice Taylor, a mind control slave to the high and mighty (multiple US presidents), her keepers would stick hypodermic needles in her frequently. I would imagine they might of done the same to fellow child charges, especially if they deleted their recall for three years as they seemed to have done, when I was aged 2 to 5.

Another clinical aberration is that I am not absorbing iron, it is going through me for some reason. As the perps love jacking with my iron and all its magnetic portents and properties, it would be another non-surprise.

Another  "CD file convergence" event. I bought eight albums off the web and have just started to listen to them, after the aforementioned "problem" with getting the player to function (it was fine yesterday). I bought six used CD's in Kelowna at one particular book store I frequent. The "droogie dudes" were there in their usual mumble tones to each other. As part of the deal they have me play the discs via the player first, then rip them, and then listen to them as digital files off this here PC. More perp excitement it would seem. It never fucking ends.

And a whole lot more "aerials" en-route as best as I could make out. These being a peculiar white 12" square flat panel, usually arranged on the bias (single corners at top/bottom in a diamond configuration) and often on top of overhead lane standards, and sometimes two together, pointing 90 degrees offset. Since it was my first trip that way since early 09-2015, I would imagine they might have spent the time getting "ready" for me in every technical sense.

One thing the perps seem to find fascinating is file renaming, these being music files. All the more if it is a eponymous named album (same as the artist) and then the "album artist" gets the same name too (filled in by me), and so we have three meta-data fields (aka tags- a ridiculous term), all identical. Exciting times in perp-land indeed, and here we are at 13.5 years of this insane shit.

And what it this new perp stunt of draping themselves, or otherwise physically encroaching into my personal space when making a financial transaction? Yesterday some bearded rude-ass just had to put his arm across the counter in front of me to grab a pen when I was purchasing ethyl alcohol to deal this this infernal (and so far, intractable) mold problem in my brief case the assholes created last year. Of course no "excuse me" as they don't seem to know this politeness in this town (Penticton), or is it valley (Okanagan)? And today, while at the shoemaker in Kelowna, (avoiding the local flake/poseur/saboteur), some woman in a brown coat arrives beside me and delivers red boots in a plastic bag and in the process, drapes herself over one of my two boots on the counter. Another personal space encroachment "sans manners", just before a financial transaction. To the perps; go fuck yourselves; no more personal space encroachments.

Yesterday at the supermarket it was similar; my tracking/stalking dudes were all over me, and one arrives after me at the next checkout. He finishes up, and when I am just about to depart after dealing with this vexacious situation, why a staff dude "needs" to head to the self-checkout ahead of me, and a staff girl senselessly "needs" to block the remaining egress her fellow staff "partner" couldn't cover. I turn to go, and do my (now) usual wait for egress to open up, and she scoots back to her station. Like WTF; a totally senseless "need" to get in my way just before departing the self checkout by two coordinated staff members (or at least, were dressed like them, in black with green trim). And do I ever loathe those stupid hats they wear at SOF.

11-29-2015
Eve of Canadian football madness, the Grey Cup, due to start within the hour, and they obstructed the checkout at Marks at about 1500h. Like WTF; all I wanted to buy was two pairs of black socks to replace the two that sprang holes, and its Sunday, and yet they backed up the tills with some 8 customers. Screw that.

Off to LD, and it was almost as bad. I had two things to get, and lo, at the checkout, there was two ahead of me. Except that the paying customer's gift card wouldn't work, so she had to go elsewhere to get another and come back. Then a wandering customer, returns to the checkout just after her, now three customers ahead of me. Thanks. Then the woman behind me is getting too close, like 12", so I move some 6" ahead, and next time I look, why, she moved in close again. A dude with his young boy, eminently capabble of walking, but carried, needs to parade around, not only in the aisle when I was there (3x), he is now parading in the exit where the checkout line ends. He departs with his wife, as it turns out, the customer with the bum gift card, and lo, some bearded and ball capped freak replaces him as the loitering male, to be kept in view while I was still captive in the checkout line. Finally, I get to the checkout, and pay cash (I rarely do anywhere, debit card), and when finishing up, why, the Fat Girl cashier gives me this extended stare as she leans in to give me my receipt (no plastic shopping bags needed). Like WTF; the other Fat Girl cashier did the same thing about two months ago. All that excitement over two visits after keeping me inside until the afternoon, one being a "skunked" visitation (attempted, but aborted shopping visistaton). Like why cannot I be left alone to get what I want, when I want without this insane freak gangstalk show, augmented by obstructing checkout progress? And how many times havve I complained about this one? At least 1x/month in print.

Onto yoga and the clusterfuck games in having the other yogis now gather around me when removing/replacing shoes and my coat. And too, the instructor does it too for whatever reason.

Night Time Ructions

04-21-2015
And why, oh why did the perps start the smoke alarm in the night, around 0300h? No, it wasn't a full blown alarm, but a chirp every 20 seconds to indicate that the battery was low. Finally I had to get up and deal with it, and lo, if they didn't screw me around with getting a spare battery and finding it too was way overdue, as in March 2012.After I put it in and it chirped too of course. And why did they keep me awake or else in a very light sleep until getting up?

Another "stoned" morning, feeling like I was de-realized and nothing was too important, as in limited amygdala response.

At the vineyard/winery it was bottling again today; tasks are unloading the empty bottles and feeding the machine, as it can do about 2400 bottles an hour, placing the filled bottles in the just emptied boxes, and lastly, labeling and stacking the boxes of full wines onto a pallet. Plenty enough to do. The asshole perps blanked me out and had me "forget" to load my 6 bottles in the case, all for the boss to find out. Artfully, they pulled this one in the very first four cases before things got very busy.

04-22-2015
The aftermath of cleaning up bottling, and taking things to the dump. A stack of beat up pallets was dropped off at the woodpile, more refuse, and finally the recyclables. In the latter case it was my second trip there, and they made sure there was large commercial vehicles posted around me, even if it is the public (non-commercial) recycling area. Also a few posing dudes to keep up the dude-stalk show, aka gut-stalk, fugly sloppy shorts-stalk etc.

Then wine case flipping for the afternoon; they need to be cork up for the first day after bottling for the cork to recover to full size, then flipped for the cork to remain moist during storage.

04-23-2015
Ditto on the previous day; case flipping and a garbage run.

On case flipping I had a helper, a red headed female with no chin, nice smile, and was reasonably social, but as always, in a measured way and replete with the now standard conversational drop-outs where it seems that she would reply but strangely doesn't. , and has an orange pack. covers up the red hair mostly with a ball cap. And when she first arrived she had a fugly orange and white backpack, and too, the orange backpack color wasn't too different than her hair.

A Naramata Bench wineries meeting after work. A soil scientist spoke about the glacial origins of the Okanagan Valley, and the resultant surficial geology. Imagine, 9000' of glacial ice sitting overhead at one time. It caused me to ponder if the perps were studying the planet then, over 50 million years ago, and in the "blink of a geological eye", this snow and ice cover warmed up melted to form the oceans we currently know. The suggestion of a sudden catastrophic event, even if a geologic event, was the hinting phrase.


As why are they senselessly repaving on the commute route? At least four patches in each lane some 60-120' long, ground down and then paved over in a day or two.Yes, I drove over the lower ground out surface, and too, I was re-routed to the alternate lane on some trips, and of course, now these repaved patches that didn't need a new surface. The perps have a long history of digging up the ground I walk on, as well as the road surfaces I drove over.

What is with outfits that don't respond to my emails of late; three in a week, one of them I re-sent the first email and still no response. Respectful inquiries and yet nada.

And the first downloaded CD in 8 weeks or longer, and lo, if it isn't a red headed artist, a folkie-rocker from SK, Canada. Not a coincidence given that nothing in my existence is a coincidence. And a long hiatus of former regular activity, paid music downloading and/or sample listening, is straight out of the perp abuse/harassment book. In fact, it is a hallmark perp planning.


Back in 2002, some months before the perps went berserk/overt, I was, and still am mostly, a fan of another red headed musician from Seattle where I lived. She (initials, NC) has since moved to Illinois and is now widely known. Names not mentioned to get by the the search troving software and all the rest of the social media associations that might entail. And as redheads figure prominently in the Unfavored demographic groups, it does cause me to ponder just what it is that causes the perps to arrange likeable red headed female musicians every so often?

Another redheaded female blues artist, one of my faves going back to 1974 with the album "Give It Up" has also figured prominently in my musical tastes. It is the strangest thing though, as she wasn't red-headed then, and somehow became so. Another fine coincidence. What angle to the perps present to the artist, assuming this even occurs and they don't manipulate everything from their control rooms; "we will ensure you become a famous blues player as long as you agree to have (or create) red hair". Something like that. Is there some psychic component of the vocals that is different between  redheads versus blondes? And is it different if the hair color is from a dye or a natural organic pigmentation?

04-24-2015
A Friday, but a day off as I will be working both days of the weekend at a Traffic Control Person course.

The perps shut me out of the walk-in clinic again, with a 10 long line of dudes at the door just prior to opening at 0900h. This is the third such obstruction/protracted wait stunt they have pulled at this place in the last two weeks. All I want is to get a doctor's evaluation on some low values of my last blood test, and I have to go through this cattle parade to get in. Forget it; when I got in to see about blood test, why, it was this very same time of day and there wasn't a line up. Now, line ups at the beginning and end of day, all to thwart me in this long running game the perps like to arrange, aka Dashed Expectations. And of course the management obliges in that there are no reservations, strictly walk-in, unlike any walk-in clinic I have known in the past 15 years.

A rain sprinkle was started up as I just finished putting the laundry to dry outside. So... I bring it all in for 30 minutes or so and put it outside again. The perps get no end of variations on laundry drying; inside, outside, some of each, with sun, with wind etc. This is addition to the towels and cottons I usually dry in the dryer at the laundromat.

I got nailed for a 2.5 nap attack this afternoon. just when I was recovered and wanted to finish my list of inspection items onh  my vehicle, why, a sprinkling rain came on. So I pulled my outside drying laundry inside and then attended to it to wait out the rain. (They tell me that I am fortunate the rain wasn't arranged while I was sleeping and the laundry drying outside.)

Later, the rain was over and I checked the oil and it was fine. The assholes screwed me into not looking at it last year and had me go to Kelowna and back down two quarts of oil. I was fucking pissed as I NEVER, EVER allowed this to occur in all my prior 40 years of motoring. I was fastidious enough about vehicle care that I had a repair/inspect journal which had mileage and associated details of what got done when and at what mileage. Now, the assholes won't let me do this or keep a repair journal in the vehicle. I must rely on receipts kept in my residence for crissakes. What purpose does that serve?

04-28-2015
Finally I get to complete this posting after two full days of course, evening time studying and yoga last night.

When I got parked, there was a dude standing at the pay machine, and then at each side of his vehicle for some strange reason. And then he comes up to me still seated and asks me where a certain building is. I pull out the map I had supplied to me and tell him, and he was glad for that it seemed.

The course had a capped class size of 14, and all the usual gangstalk culprits. There was the three jocular males behind me who found their own jokes soooo.. funny, and just had to thump the shared (with me) table. If that weren't enough, two of three had a coughing problem that would come and go. Which played into someone else from across the room who also had a coughing problem, sometimes as if in a tag team. At one point I got a shot of a beam or something in my R eye while they were coughing in stereo.

There was all round snuffling and sneezing among the class, the "usual" for public locations now. There was masers and plasma beams around the projector, screen and instructor, 60+ y.o white haired male who I came to respect as he knew his material, and was an authentic person. No curious smiles or other quirky stuff.

My table mate seemed to know I needed to see his orange day-glo runners on his feet being shuffled so I could pick them up in my peripheral vision from below. The perps cannot get enough of that, testing my vision with sudden moves and the like from below. The all-time stunt in this regard was when they had a short Walmart employee almost walk into me, as if she was about to head butt me in the chest.

The strange 60+ y.o dude with the micro-ponytail day on the first day looked totally out of place, and all the more so the second day when he let his hair down. And most strangely, didn't show up for the afternoon practical session, and thereby ensuring he was ineligible to receive a certificate.

A major blonde Fat Girl next to me, and as it "happened", she was with her mother who was in the business. She did flutter her eyes at me once, one of those "chance" things as she was picking something off the floor and I was looking down. Funny how that "happens".

And it was a very special perp event indeed with respect to a pair of safety boots that I had acquired in 2008 when there was a purported construction boom on and the farm worker pals had encouraged me to get a pair. I duly did, and lo, the construction jobs all dried up three weeks later and I never had a reason to wear them since. I never got anywhere with construction jobs for all the perps were promoting it back then. And in concert with the perps and their unrelenting fetish over footwear, they had me with a seven year old pair of unworn new boots on the asphalt road surface directing traffic around a road obstruction as part of a practical training exercise. And lo, if one of the jocular males, who is in the road construction business didn't happen to have a pair of new boots from astore with the tags still on them, and wore them that way for the four hour exercise. Another fine coincidence.

Anyhow, enough for a week and to get this posted.

Oh the Commotion of Seeing a Certain Celeb on TV

12-16-2012
OK, I don't really follow celebs that much, and am overusing the term in the posting title. I loosely follow a pop singer called JAR for now; I have a couple of albums from the last 15 years, seen her web site a few years ago, nothing too devoted. I have seen her twice in concert three years when she came to Victoria in the 1990's, and she is a hoot in her between song chat. She came out with a memoir a year ago, but as it was $30 I thought I would pick it up in year or so at a discount. Nothing too obsessive as far as I can tell.

I was kicking around all day in Kelowna Dec. 11 until the early evening flight to Victoria where I am for a few weeks. I went to a used book and CD store and "found", per scripted/arranged life imposition/relentless abuse, JAR's above mentioned memoir for $5 and bought it. I read half of it at the airport while waiting there, starting in the middle which was perverse for me, but I understand there is remote influencing going on so I don't worry too much about it. Though to be fair, I often read books from the back chapters, though rarely biographies and memoirs because it is a linear sequence. I finished the book the next day, going back to the begining and re-read the latter half again, and have put it down since. I also looked over the pictures in the book, when she was very small from one year, as toddler, and on up to teen years and to her 30's would be my estimate. As the interest in this performer has been piqued, I also listen to some samples on my mother's iPad which took a few days to get going due to her arranged dithering over passwords. Then one mention of JAR by me when chatting with my farmworker colleague/shill a few nights ago, as mentioned in the last posting.

Then tonight, a regular Sunday when I would regularly visit the First Feral Family house each week for the last nine years or so. I watch the dreamy blonde deliver the local news, and then 60 Minutes. Scott Pelley introduces the show segments and to say that it is a specially shortened version tonight, some 38 minutes long. The ads suggest a special version of Survivor or something like it, and as I don't follow these elimination shows much, I thought it was a highly irregular reason not to have 60 Minutes as a full-hour show. Sure enough, 60 Minutes ends about the time I return from the bathroom after an unusually timed forced pee missing the last minute or so of Leslie Stahl's piece on the Costa Concordia wreck in Tuscany. Then a local fill-in show follows the shortened 60 Minutes, which is total BS as why didn't CBS start their next show if it was that important? I putz around on the remote to find that JAR is on a local channel, on a documentary with a local channel. Then my mother puts on some ditzy talk while the show comes on, I explain that it is filling in the time to the hour, then she can watch what she wants.

Then the phone rings and she answers it and it is my brother from Kamloops where I am to drive my mother to for Christmas. Road conditions are uncertain in this region; snow and mountain passes for sure, and my mother has been going on and on about possible new winter tires and to relieve this constant BS-blather  I had earlier looked up what the highway warnings say, "good winter tires" to find out if that means the snow rated tires. It doesn't, and as she has recent M+S (mud and snow) rated tires, her vehicle is fine. So while watching the JAR documentary for some five to eight minutes and getting to see her close up and some 10 to 12 years later, she is fatter and older (less cute) to be sure, (from chubby when I caught her acts in the 1990's). JAR is your everyday unpretentious person, (hence some attraction to me) and reasonably talented performer, and as I learned she had sold out Massey Hall in Toronto four nights in a row and was having a successful year even though her performance anxieties are still very much part of her life after nearly 20 years of performing in public.

Then as I was getting into this documentary and listening to her recount her recent perspectives, I get called to the phone over this freaking tire nonsense again, my mother starting off saying we needed snow tires (one level of snow performance higher than M+S, but not required). I spoke with my brother as he was hepped up about having snow tires (and note, which he does not own himself for all the times he has driven these same mountain passes in the winter). I told him that M+S tires were all that were needed if there was a public statement for "winter tires". And he goes "oh". Like WTF; here he was totally gaming me over some BS over tire type, which he himself does not feel he needs, all to get me on the phone to jerk me from watching the JAR documentary and having some fan-time with her (by way of TV). Then the conversation continued for other things that were more substantive but not new, ending any chance to get back to watching the remaining JAR doc. (Only would of seen for 20 minutes anyhow before the hour was up). So there is at least two things going on as part of the above detailed First Feral Family interventions, machinations and orchestrations at the behest of the Abuser General of The Fourth Reich (Mind Fuck & Life Abuse Division).

One, the heightened recent interest in JAR; memoir read twice last week, three music samples, a conversational mention and today, a documentary (for at most, 20 minutes as "for some reason" 60 Minutes curtailed their show for no apparent reason causing me to switch channels in mid-hour this to occur). So what was that all about, and how many more of these arranged public performer/celeb interest build-ups am I going to go through with other performers, mostly musicians? And by the way, this theme of public performer interest isn't new, just that this was more concerted so to speak.

An example of public performer being visible was a few years ago with Bob Dylan, recluse extraordinaire, interviewed on 60 Minutes (of all places, given his long-running dismissal of mainstream media). Yes, I was a fan of his into the mid-1970's, Blood on the Tracks, and then wandered onto other performers who would of been singing something more intelligible at the time. I haven't bought a more recent Dylan album since, though don't take that as a criticism, and he has been through many artistic iterations and one can never count him out. And so, somehow my mother was fussed about Bob Dylan for some reason during this 60 Minutes piece (four years ago?), knew who he was for crissakes, and had some relevant commentary on him. Like WTF; where did that all come from as at no time did I have a Dylan album here at the FFF house as all my Dylan fandom took place when living in Vancouver and attending UBC. And at no time did any of my brothers have an interest and had his albums and as my mother is totally clueless about current culture, then and now, how did she know who he was and that he was a once-fave of mine? Go figure. Obviously, the 60 Minutes Dylan exposition had very little of the associated build-up to JAR mentioned above.

Back to the above FFF ructions over getting me off the couch and having some fan-time with JAR via a documentary on TV that was rudely interrupted for no substantive informational purpose. many TI's and long-time readers will know that the telephone, an electronic device with speaker and microphone, serves as some kind of instrument to have EMF signals at one's head, and all the more so when timed as conspicuous interventions at favorite perp interruption moments. That conventional EMF signals are routinely arranged around me in a tightly scripted and split-second choreography at certain cognitive functions hasn't gone unnoticed all these ten years of extra-conventional abuse. I suppose the phone in the above JAR build-up sequence, represents the final stage of disrupting or or applying EMF signals to the head which then might of been purposely interacting with my just-interupted "glow" (aka, decaying quantum (?) brain waves) from having seen JAR on the TV (video presentation, over and above prior book, pics, songs and an single conversational mention). And another forced piss after being on the phone, not forgetting one a few minutes beforehand. The perps can go fuck themselves and all this elaborate and relentless inanity. I don't expect this to end anytime soon, as the First Abusee of the fully abetting First Feral Family.

Another notion I want to air about the above gaming stunt and calling me to the phone to miss the show on TV I was watching. Why am I constantly getting dumb-fuck conversation stunts? My mother, by virtue of age, has earned herself the hard of hearing and ditthering dipshit excuse, but so many people, (brother on the phone in above story) are pulling this on me. The ex was another who had variable verbal skills, from skewering me to dumbshitting me, and Ms. C of the story (2000 to 2003) was another one who would pull this game, even if she was quite intelligent.

And I am still going on about the above? What is it about automobile tires, and all their configurations and tread types, that this constant stream of stupid dumbshit games continues as it did above? About four weeks ago my former landlady was also complaining about her snow tires weren't holding the road when other vehicles were passing her on wet pavement with puddled water (lumpy highway). Shouldn't of happened I told her then, and at lunch break I checked her tires and they were fine and mounted correctly (unidirectional tires nowadays). I then looked them up online and they were reasonably rated, though not top rated, but no one was having aquaplaning problems like she did. After lunch I mentioned my limited research to her but she didn't seem too interested in pursuing the problem and she never got replacement snow tires. It all seemed about having me go look at the tires, (two weeks after they were removed from their storage location in the nearby backyard shed, unbagged (plastic bags) and mounted), and look them up online, mention them later and then perp imperative of gaming me over automobile tires was done.

She was understandably fussy about tires after going off the road last year, ending upside down, and got a set of snow tires on rims in addition to a replacement SUV (4 wheel drive) with M+S tires as standard. I just don't get it; all this stupid gaming me, along with the inevitable disjunct or sudden cessation of conversational discourse, and for no apparent genuine informational exchange or interest.

I shall post this one now, Sunday night, now early Monday, having gotten this one over with.

Cue Noise, then have victim find out his document wasn't saved

12-04-2011, 1045h
That was last night, when 1.5 hours worth of tweaking an email about my SDD upgrade was saved in Yahoo, and when I went back to the Saved as Drafts, why, only part of it was there, the rest didn't save. And my annoyance was extreme as I have had this done to me before, but what was unusual was the pre-harassment noise run up, the fake water in pipes noise from the vacant N. neighbor wall, and to then catch me when I discovered the jerkaround and when screaming infuriated by it.

A very restless night as the first time on the black cot with a white sheet under me and a blue duvet cover on top. And of course the sheets move on me, somehow slipping sideways in the night, even if there was an extra 12" of hanging sheet either side. It was like sleeping on a board, the fabric was so stiff and taut, even if the perp abetting donor claimed they slept on it comfortably for months.

And as I am working for this month at a forest tre nursery, the blog frequency will be down to once a week again, much like the last working spell on the farm.

And what a week it has been, starting the job and going flat-out for 8 hours and finishing at midnight, then sleeping in to 1100h some days, depending on the disruption regimen. That is to say, it has been a week of maximum disruptions and jerkarounds, both on the job and all times. Even more negro gangstalking activity with the one negro woman I met while doing farmwork in 2008, "happening' to be there, and then "happening" to loose her ride, so me "happening" to give her a ride home for three days this past week. But someone else is going to give her a ride for the rest of the work session.

And a crew of 35 or so is putting plug stock seedlings into boxes, first after grading them on the conveyor, stacking them in neat pyramids of 10 (row of 4, then 3, 2, 1) which are conveyed to the wrapping person, having a 6" diameter of shrink wrap some 8" wide, and rolling the stacked bunch of trees together and then putting them on a turntable to then have them packed into boxes by another person. There are box making jobs as well, and we rotate stations every 1.5 hours or so. All manner of perp abetting setups there of course; heated pads and bar to press or cut the shrink wrap, the tree seedlings themselves of course, the 8' diamter 20rpm turntable 6" behind my butt when wrapping, the brown boxes with lighter brown inserted bags to contain moisture, the soil spillings down my front and on it goes.

The crew is a motley assortment of native Indians, one aforementioned negro woman and a few Asians and a half dozen Caucasians in the mix. I am given the social leper treatment for no apparent reason, nothing unusual about that given the current train of abuse that is so consistent as it is relentless. Though, every so often one breaks the mold and becomes friendly for a while, the negro woman being the first. Though she was avoidant for a day, then chatty to then be bitchy for no reason, especially when she should of been in supplication mode for a ride back into downtown at the midnight shift end . I get the usual pattern of sudden dead-stop conversations, where it seems they want to get me to a certain point and then they cease, even in a three-way conversation. I also get plenty of the stand-next-to-me-for-absolutely-no-reason stalkings, not to mention even more curious back-and-forths where a Fuckwit co-worker goes past for no seeming reason, putzes on something way outside their station, and then comes back. There is the tell-me-half-the-job-but-let-me-find-out-the-rest-while-on-the-job games, coming from the forewoman, business manager and those who should know better. Why they do this I have no idea. Then on the first full shift on Monday,  the business owner gangstalking, the German man in his 60's in his black ski pants was back-and-forthing, putzing around and even giving me some helpful training tips on wrapping the seedling bundles. Then he hasn't come back, in keeping with another gangstalking flavor, having the business owner come out for a victim tour. Some of the big fat native Indian males have taken to pounding the conveyor belt in some kind of drumming fashion, obviously arranged so that they aren't busy while I am. The walk-straight-at-me games are also scripted, as are the hoodie-hang-abouts in the dark at the garage door entrances. I go to the lunch room to keep warm, but at least half the crew strangely stands around for their two half hour breaks we have in out eight hour shifts.

Other Unfavored freak demographics have been the large gutted males, overweight native Indians, a Caucasian skinhead, the army combat fatigues, male ponytails, redcoats and red hoodies, and a few others. And only one Favored demographic person, a 30-ish female on the permanent staff in jet black hair to her shoulders, looking very trim even if also wearing combat fatigues colored pants, and being as dishy as a freckle faced woman can be. She likes, or more like, is assigned to loiter around me sometimes for seeming unneeded reasons, and also is arranged to be in my line of view more often than would be expectable. Not to mention cruising in close behind me at the end of the conveyor, and artfully being exactly in the way at the exact moment I turned to place three bunches of seedling onto the turntable. All to get in close, and then surprise me for whatever reason the perps have.

Other games this week have been to have me do a first-time ever back to back legs shave followed by a face and torso shave. The perps have always had me do these separately, the legs shave being once per week in the late evening with a Wilkinson triple razor, and the face and torso together each day with the Gillette twin razor. But as I am effectively staying at my perp-abetting mother's as part of the evening time vehicle borrowing arrangement, I don't do a full torso shave when there. If I get  up early, I will get the bus and do a full torso shave at my place. All manner of combinations of shave areas, razor blade selection and location of shaving are being exercised by the perps, along with now using a long-stored razor handle. It is all too exciting for them, these arrangements to have me shave in differing combinations, permutations and locations and differing shaving foam. That I sold my bed to facilitate moving also added to this week's games, as the above mentioned sleeping arrangements have also added to the disruption games. Regular readers will know that the perps put no end of effort to mess with my bedding, its colors, its laundering and whatever residual color/energy effects they seem to be looking for by remote means.

And more hacking of my email account, even after I changed my password which is rated as "strong". the Gmail anti-spam thing continues as the reason/obstruction in attempting to create a new account, and switching to Yahoo dot ca is also fraught with uncertainty. No one is making it easy, that is for sure.

1300h
More clunking from overhead while eating lunch. This clunking started up here about 6 months ago, and is identical to the garbage chute noises of the place I had, 2006 to 2007. This apartment is well away from the garbage chute noieses of this building, and I haven't heard anything in the prior 3.5 years. All of a sudden the noise starts up as if it were from the long ago building. I am going to call this blog done for the week, and will attempt another then. though I will be driving to Penticton to look at accomodation.