Monday, October 06, 2008

Word Editor Sabotage

1355h
I am attempting to write my resume, and each time I come back into the saved file the formatting has been messed with, especially the html version which is the most transferable. I use Open Office Writer, which might well mean Open For Sabotage, as all the code is in the public domain. The 20 options on File Save were reduced to about 6, and that also prevented workarounds, as I could save to another format instead of html. After at least three repeats of cleaning up the file in the same way; bulleting, paragraph spacing and centering were added at least three times before I was allowed the respite of using Word Pad. Regular readers will know that my typing/writing is frequently sabotaged, and often repetively, doing the same corrections incorrectly at least twice in succession, and sometimes more. This typing sabotage also applies to the word "the", as they have me routinely make typos on this word more than any other, which doesn't make any sense from the normal learning perspective. Today, the perps big excitement seemed to be over paragraph spacing, adding and removing bullets, and adding bold after they had removed it. I couldn't say if this represents progress or not from their perspective as I don't really understand why the assholes have to routinely fuck with how I type and handwrite.

The planted notion is to use Bluefish as an html editor, but I have attempted to do this in the past, and it was sabotaged to the point it would not install. Most of my software downloads have been corrupted, and that extends to Oracle database software, where I once earned my living, designing databases. I have over 20,000 saved movie links in my Firefox Bookmarks list, and I am sure this is ripe for a "file error" or something equally disruptive.

And plenty of red flashes are being arranged, not to mention red objects. I was at my parents' place last night, and got a partial ride into downtown this morning, and took the bus for the remainder. And lo, if the red cardboard box in the red plastic bag packing gangstalker asshole didn't circulate to be seen from the vehicle, then behind the glass of the bus stop, and then circled around again to sit at the bus stop 4' from me and eventually get on the same bus. Another dufous came with two red handled cleaning items, a broom and a mop, and with a red dustpan hung and around on the opposite side of the bus stop, visible through the glass. He stood around for some 10 minutes and sauntered off, only for me to see him yet again from the bus. A red coated tall granny also passed by in front of me, and then somehow circled back again some five minutes later going in the same direction as her first gangstalking direction. She then crossed the road, walked past the red and white Petro Canada gasoline station opposite, and then did a 90 degree turn opposite, as if she had to do shopping at the gas station. An Asian woman passed by in a light blue fleece jacket, and lo, if she didn't "somehow" get on the bus in advance, and was seated nearby. A negro woman with a large curly hairdo with blonde streaks also passed by (gangstalking), and even more improbably, ended up behind me some 15 minutes later, as I was getting on the bus, and then sat directly opposite me.

And for those who wonder why I make note of the various racial makeup of the gangstalking community, I have come to find that the perps draw from certain demographic groups, usually Unfavored ones, and like to expose me to as many combinatorial variants as possible. Brown colors are of particular perp interest, and that would include brown skin as well. They haven't yet figured out what (or where) my subconscious reactions are to this color, and red for that matter, hence the ongoing freakshow/parade of gangstalkers.

It looks as if this is going to be another one of those dull Mondays the perps like to maintain, keeping me at my desk for the afternoon as no errands or other arrangements have been made. And still no returned phone calls from the three parties I called last week, another source of annoyance that seems to be orchestrated.

Perhaps the perp excitement for the day is to keep me company with my kitchen trash. As it "so happened", I removed the trash when I left yesterday, and when I came back, it was via the drycleaners to pick up the now clean, once linted clothes from last week's perp stunts. And so, the drycleaning plastic is in the trash, and it is only 7' away in this studiio suite, and just might be my scripted plastics exposure for the day. I don't have a FAQ on this topic, or an Essential Introductory Posting, but for unfamiliar readers, it is highly consistent that the perps present all manner of plastics in my proximity. They tell me that I, like most people in North America, have trace plastic pollutants in me, and that wreaks havoc with their remote detection and mind control energetics. Furthermore, they tell me that the plastics' energetic (or, electromagnetic if you prefer) behavior is different at the quantum mechanics level (subatomic particles) than at the larger macro levels, e.g. molecular, cellular, etc. Hence, drivebys with large amounts of white 20' PVC irrigation pipe, (putative irrigation services, even if nowhere nearby to install it), gangstalkings with Goretex wearing fuckwits (PFOA teflon compounds), extra pieces of carpets "lying around" (PDBE's) and plastics that contain bisphenol A, like my water bottle that I used for some three years, at least twice per week. These are only a few of the compounds that I am aware of, and even polar bears have been found to have traces of these compounds. So, the very party (International Gestapo) that likely governed the introduction of plastics into worldwide industrial use (IMHO), now has a problem in remotely hacking someone who is polluted with them. Not my problem, but no one is listening to me.

1545h
The tea and chocolate break is over, and lo, if the outside noise didn't ramp up; they even had an "all-quiet" order go out when eating the chocolate, and this happened nearly daily in 2005 to 2006, then they stopped it once I moved to their putative rooming house hole they had me in for seven months before this residence location.

I got to watch some TV last night, as I do nearly anytime I visit my parents, and it is very likely a component of the harassment games. It is clear that some of the video is spoofed, augmented in some way to present objects and/or colors in unusual ways, mostly to perturb me. Any "emergency story" with flashing red and blue lights gets tricked up so there is plenty more red and blue flashing, often off the faces of the interview subject. Last night they pulled an interesting spoofing; there was a blonde woman (Favored, note) wearing a black leather jacket, and lo, if there wasn't added reflection to the leather, but the reflection was painted (spoofed) as a skin tone. There was something terribly incongruous and perturbing about this jacket's appearance, and if that is my natural reaction, I reckon the perps found this very interesting.

And a new season for 60 Minutes last night, finally, after last year's shows being rerun and recombined for the past five months. There was a piece on the Delta Force's plans to get Osama Bin Laden in Afganistan being denied, twice, only to leave a conventional approach remaining, and then to be defeated in the field by turncoat Afgan tribesmen, bribesmen in fact, as they had been compensated in advance to aid the Delta Force, but turned on them anyhow. I remarked out loud that it seemed that the mission was destined to fail, and my mother asked why I thought that to be so. I didn't get into deeper conspiratorial topics, but it is highly likely that the perps at least wanted me to self-censor my response. And I see that this item has made the news, and more interesting was that this was the first time that any Delta Force plans had been rejected, twice in this case.

1735h
The pounding of the overhead concrete ceiling/floor has started up, just as I finished up on reading Shannon Moore via Progressive Alaska and more of Sarah Palin's political machinations. I sense she is one of those syntax manglers in the style of Pres. George Bush, and relatively amoral, though responsive via partyspeak, and hidebound by the status quo. It is an interesting "coincidence" that I found this blog site about three months ago, long before any added Alaskan flavor to the vice-presidential selection by John McCain. As I have often said, (I was hacked for five typo sabotages by imposed cognitive "failure" in typing out the preceding word, another never-before), there is a confluence of coincidences in my circumstances that is anything but random, right down as to how my flakes behave in my cereal bowl every morning. Hark, more pounding of the concret overhead to finish up this dusk onset silly time the perps go through with every day.

1910h
That planted hype I got about the imposed "need" to get a new chair, specifically an Aeron, seems to have cascaded into a (designed, IMHO) coincidence continuum. It so happens, that there will be a successor model availible soon, and it is a cool $1,600. Not that I am in the market; there must be a slew of used Aerons out there after the bank bust, still in progress. And magically, no stabbing in the back from my current chair today, the stunts suddenly stopped to my surprise.

1930h
A moment of annoying faint noise started up, I put the earmuffs on, and 10 seconds later, the overhead pounding "erupted" so it could be heard through the hearing protection. All too coordinated for anything less than scripted fuckery. And this isn't the first time this scenario has played out, but it is the fastest turnaround time yet.

On the high annoying, if not rage-ified level, continues the PC mouse action impairment, selectively of course, but it is like not being able to use the fingers of one hand, but forced to write with it. This is a Monday, a return from the dwelling from the First Feral Family, and is prone to highly invasive and vituperative harassment stunts. No prizes for how many hours I will be tossing in my bed until sleep is permitted. (Sleep deprivation is routinely on Mondays until the summer when they relented for reasons that might be related to the fact that they let me out to do agricultural work, also duly hampered as to how much I could do, and the number of successive days permitted).

2100h
More jerking around with my PC mouse, and more rage-ification at the assholes who are doing this. Back to the high harassment Mondays, and that would include taking a shit, as they have notified me that this too shall be scripted for this day as a return to form after the exceptions for the past three weeks, likely to support the travelling excursion, Sept. 15 to 22.

2135h
A round of strange siren noise variations followed the noise, earmuffs on, overhead pounding sequence of a half hour ago, and then a permitted whole article reading about "synthetic telepathy", or what I would call just telepathy. The article is an thourough digest of most of the supporting technologies and their development. And is written by one of the original mind control researchers, Richard Alan Miller, who even got the Men In Black like visitation, four of them, two in military uniform though as help to ransack his place to steal his papers and all the supporting notes. It was pre-PC days of course, so when they took his notes, that was it, all gone, and no publication. Imagine that, microwave hearing discoveries go back to 1934, and another related researcher, Carl Schleicher, profiled here. Funny the author didn't mention him, as he would of known via his wife, the author of the latter link.

2300h
Some interesting reading about links to the above players was permitted for at least 40 minutes without major attention disruptions. There must be something in for the assholes to permit this degree of freedom on a highharassment day. Without any introduction, follow the story of Dr. Andrija Puharich, the man who proposed a theory of electromagnetic emissivity from nerve fibres that has been quietly sidelined.

Time to call this day done, and see what kind of sleep I get tonight; prediction, little.

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