Sunday, October 19, 2008

A Two Siren Cascade

1330h
As I write this I am getting at least the fourth siren cascade noise flurry of the day so far, and for my entertainment, they added in a 1960's type siren noise with the current day version. I suppose this might serve to calibrate certain memories formed in the 1960's, some possible traumatic and only in subconscious form, to those of later recollections with the later siren version. Just speculating of course, but I hadn't heard a 1960's siren since then, and only since this depraved harassment began in 2002 along with the rest of the noise assaults that pass for normal.

It has been a high disruption day so far, and this online activity this afternoon represents some respite, even if they continue to sabotage the mouse actions, and have me screaming at them about leaving it alone. They have the PC mouse, a Logicraft Trackman in fact, plastered in some kind of yellow wax they have laid on incrementally, and seemingly, that isn't enough mouse fucking/sabotage it seems. Naturally, foiling the PC mouse actions isn't the same kind of sabotage, causing a disruption of thumb action and visual action, but enough is enough. But of course my tormentors don't think that way, only in terms of adding yet more esoteric sabotage for whatever reasons they have in persisting in this abusive turpitude.

The biggest disruption stunt so far was to break up my bread in hand at breakfast. It was the last slice of the loaf and "happened" to be double thick, which should of made it double stiff. After putting on the usual amounts of peanut butter and jam, with various provocations to enrage me while doing it, which "happens" 90% of the time, (red substance placed over brown substance note, a high harassment combination of colors), they had it "fall apart" while eating it at the table. Most fell on the plate face down being deliberately flipped, a smaller piece landed right side up, and a piece stayed in my hand. That way they had all three options covered. As part of this, there was at least a 30 bread crumb explosion which sent breadc crumbs 2' away on the table and some onto the plate as well. They they had me yell at the assholes with my mouth full, just to heighten the jerkaround, and lo, if some crumbs didn't come flying out of my mouth to join the mess they made. Anyhow, when I turned the face down bread up, there was this unsightly swirl of peanut butter and jam, and then the assholes added extra color into the mess with yellow and brown plasma activity. I cleaned up this fucking mess as best as I could and ate all the bread up and got rid of the unsightly mess that remained on the plate. So it would seem that the assholes are attempting to find out why I find certain color combination sickening, per likely subconscious recall from traumatizations of their in the lost years when aged 3 to 5. Again, that is speculative and comes from a source that is highly suspect with the facts.

Later, it was laundry time, and that also came with some harassment games in assembling the items. It was a sheets and towels load, as the linting fuckery "caused" by the towels doesn't "happen" to erupt on the bedsheets for some reason. But the samet towels will lint up cotton shirts, acrylic underwear and other synthetics. There was no past linting "problem" until the new towels were purchased in July, and even these replacement ones "somehow" throw as much lint.

It will be a short posting today as my parents will be arriving at about 1600h and we will be setting off to have dinner at my in-town brother's place. And there is a very good chance it will be the same thing he always cooks, roast beef and various orange colored vegetables. Regular readers will recall that when I took a new orange colored medication for two days, he put on a dinner that had three differing orange colored vegetables, one more than the usual regular two, carrots and yams. The orange colored medication didn't last more than another day as it was messing me up, and that turned out to be just OK by way of the doctor. So it would seem that it was "mission accomplished"; have the victim take orange colored medication and then serve up even more varieties of orange colored vegetables at a First Feral Family dinner. Lucky me, being that victim since birth.

And as if I don't get enough of it, I am getting the vocational yo-yo-ing harassment in the form of planted thoughts that keep coming forth. Last night, they had me looking at various heavy equipment operator courses, some of which can be $20,000 or more. Then this morning, it was back to a more realistic set of notions of hitting up the Opportunities Fund for local computer courses in Oracle and ARC/GIS, resuming where I left off when the overt (to me) harassment began in 2002. (And actively rebutting the advice I had last week from a certain highly disengenuous supposed expert). And why would I be interested in heavy equipment training when I have never operated such a device, and open myself up to be fucked with all the more by way of having all those controls at my disposal? Running a PC with mouse and keyboard is enough adversity as delivered by the perps, so why take on something totally new, which is like saying "rape me some more". Any new complex endeavor is open season for extensive harassment as I don't have the knowledge to know if I am getting jerked around until much later in the process, and only in retrospect.

1530h
Another screaming rage-ification with background hallway and outside road traffic noise, not to forget the overhead rumbling that has just erupted. The big event was the assholes blocking me from getting into Yahoo Groups, something I do at least once per day, and after logging in twice, I had enough. The assholes block the Groups from displaying when in Yahoo Mail, so I am forced to sign out, and then sign in again just to get the link to the Yahoo Groups. This time they blocked me from even going through their imposed ritual of planted adversity.

And it seemed like they were ready for it with all the attendant noise that erupted while swearing at them, out loud of course. This is the trend, to rage-ify me and then script all manner of outside noise when in mid rage. Then, they may even force me to look at something irrelevant at the same time; planted crumbs or my daughter's picture on the wall seem to be two common objects they force me to look at, and all the better while screaming at the assholes. That is just one slice of life living under the heel of the World Gestapo, the original Thought Police.

This came after a tea and chocolate break, and there is no better time for Life Rape when there is brown colored food in one's stomach as I have come to learn. There is a blog posting on the perp's brown color obsession to the right under Essential Introductory Postings.

Before tea, I was reading about Marilyn Munroe as the Strasberg Family knew her, they of the Actor's Studio fame in NYC. That too was cause for getting noisestalked along with plasma flashes on the wall behind the LCD dispaly while reading. Reading about deceased people is of particular interest to the perps, especially if the subject is known by a wide audience. I wonder what role the perps played in her unfortuneate demise, if any. It is hard to know of their reach going back in history, though I suspect they have been around for many thousands of years. There is evidence they were harassing certain selected individuals in the late 18th century, per the Air Loom Gang book, also listed at the right side under Books. And it does make one wonder about history and how it unfolded, especially all those flukes; say the US 5th Fleet being at sea when Pearl Harbor was attacked, and so many other "accidents" of history.

And another round of hallway clicking noises, voices and outside protracted loud muffler noise "happened" as I put the above link in, not to mention the travails of finding it with added adversity over last time. Someone want to know that I am surveilled down to every last detail of what I do, and that includes breathing even.

Time to post this one and call it done, even if a rather dull shut-in day.

No comments: