Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Night Time Ructions

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Android Contacts Obstruction

The all consuming move from an LG Android phone to a Samsung phone is now in its fourth day (two days of the weekend, and two evenings). The infernal Gmail isn't receiving/syncing even though I have forced umpteen syncs from the LG phone.

On the cable/USB side there is the abysmal paucity of Android support on the desktop (PC), save Samsung, when I get there. I get a file back up that is useless as it isn't in a common format for importing anywhere. I get LG's desktop suite failing to display properly. I get another which seems to be a breeze, but it won't connect with my phone via the USB cable (detects, but the connect doesn't finish). And so this protracted agony of getting jerked around on contacts continues. Today, I suddenly lost my call log, deleted "inadvertently", and reckon the contacts just might come to a similar end. They have me riled up over every page that fails, or process that doesn't complete. And no doubt, want me to continue with this wretchedness, as the protective LG phone case has been kept off during this battle, and for the perps, that is an exciting situation, given they love to vary transparent surfaces; e.g see your cell phone through a cover, see your cell phone without the back cover on, see your cell phone in the mirror, and so this insane abuse-athon continues.

I had all this managed and controlled when I had my Palm Pilot, synced every day. That was 2000 to 2001 before the assholes struck (went berserk/overt) in 04-2002. Mind you, there were some unexpected glitches then, and I could not figure out why it would not sync sometimes. But it worked often enough I was happy with the Palm Pilot.

A different task today at the vineyard; I did traffic control for three truck unloadings for an hour each time.That meant a procession of the selected vehicles and sequences and colors with me standing at the roadside with the Slow/Stop paddle, and coordinating with the other person coming on the other side of the road. Thankfully no mistakes or worse, always at the back of my mind when taking on new endeavors. As in, how bad is the sabotage going to be?

Today is the thirteenth anniversary of the onset of this insane relentless abuse, that is, when the perps went berserk/overt in a huge takedown in my apartment in Seattle. As in, One Day My Life Got Changed (for the worse of course). All manner of high strangeness came upon me in my apartment: including the perps taking me somewhere and bringing me back to my apartment on the shoulders of six males, the normally ridgid steel shaft of a screwdriver bent like putty in my hands, the door was moved laterally in the door jamb by unknown means, there was a hole being cut in the floor, a perp came to block the toilet with a balloon, another perp arrived through the wall in the bathroom, some mofos tailed me to the fitness club at 0200h in the morning, and seemed to be packing guns under their garments while they were working out on the treadmill. They also came in a black Suburban and double parked outside of my vehicle for a minute or so and looked into my vehicle for this duration. Another view through the blinds of the apartment window revealed some 4 to 5 males on the adjacent balcony early in the morning. And when I went to work the day after, why, no one said anything about my absence. And my very first gangstalker was sitting on a chair in the lobby at 0800h with this smirk on his face. And it got worse in every way from then on. Incredible head pains that could be beamed in, but avoided if I could be around metal objects, or in them, such as a vehicle. Basically hounding me all hours on the streets of Seattle for three weeks until more bullshit unfolded. I shall try get my story up on the static web pages as I see Blogspot allows 20, up from the original 12.

Vineyard work at two locations today, nice to get the peaceable site with limited road traffic noise, though the Bell 412 helicopter with its deep throbbing noise made two passes, one directly overhead by 200'.

I worked on bottling line in three different locations all day; taking the cases off the conveyor and packing them on pallets, then later, placing the bottles in the cases. The last most task was manually placing the glass stoppers on a special run of white wine, as the machines can only do corks and screw caps. A very busy day, and as always, extra busy around me. Even my water bottle wasn't immune, as three others' water bottles (or covered mugs) ended up next to my water bottle.

I learn that the Samsung Kies contacts management component (on the PC) has been removed by Samsung;... more protracted agony. The only reason I got the Samsung Galaxy 5 was to get to edit my contacts on the desktop, as it offered the only hope of doing data reconciliation on a sensible data editing platform. All this makes me want to get a Samsung Galaxy Note 2 and stay in the Kies 2 environment, when I first learned of Kies in 2012. As it "happened" the Galaxy Note 2 kept crashing and so I got the LG phone after that, and spent an inordinant amount of time getting that functional.

And on the cusp of realizing that Samsung de-featuring Kies 3, why, I was nodding off at this here PC. So much so that I shut it down and took an hour long nap attack hit from the Assholes. Great timing that, at 1700h, when I never, ever, had a nap at that time before they went berserk/overt in 04-2002, per above anniversary.

Google accounts are totally confusing, including not finding my own blog and being allowed to sign in. I was saved by a gmail address that I tried to delete some 10x but would not delete with no message as to why, per minimal Google standard.

Not forgetting the all-time nap attack duration of five hours after reading for some 10pp into a viticulture text in 2012, no coincidence that given the perp's interest in knowledge; from where, whom, what source, fully or partially learned, its recall and application and all else that goes with data and knowledge. Once back in 1988 at a GIS conference and the now all-too-familiar perp trait of having the session seating next to me vacant until the last few seconds before a presentation begins, the likely perp said something interesting to me, (though in context with the presentation); "the basis for understanding as to when data becomes knowledge is not fully understood", paraphrasing some. So...., as mentioned many a time on this here blog, abusing the living shit out of victims, literally and figuratively, with the goal of attaining 100% remotely applied mind control is not by any means the complete agenda.

The consecrated hassle of getting my contacts on my new phone continues; no sync-ing overnight. And it occurred to my why Samsung was so belligerently bone-headed as to why they de-featured the PC/desktop Kies 3 Android management software; so all my, and presumably, everyone else's, contacts now flow through Google who can do their social media and associated data wizardry on all Samsung owners, no matter who. Good one that, but like I said, I was very functional with my Palm Pilot in its day (being an early adopter in 2000), and after 15 years of PDA/cell phone technical progress, and the deep sixing of the Palm Pilot platform by HP, I am still behind on the functional requirements. Such is the digital age; one step ahead for everyone sideways.

A hike today, getting tanned in all as part of it, the sunshine being consistent and free from cloud-over games. Plus, for the two hours of tanning, I had no one around me or "accidentally" finding me. Astonishing to say the least. This could be the very location at which the SAR helicopter came to sit for 20 minutes after making four passes in this valley when hiking back in 2012.

Finally I get sync-ed in Gmail, a lame-assed contacts manager as one could expect. And lo, one more kick of the can as the contacts were doubled in number. Thankfully a "Remove Duplicates" button was available and even more astonishing was that it worked flawlessly the first time .

And a new harassment "feature" that made itself apparent in the last few days. Why, the Windows Cut/Copy/Paste doesn't work some how, and this latest stunt causes me to write the segment down and key it into a Search (or other) box. When does this insane abuse-athon ever end?

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Dressed Up for Yoga and No Yoga

No yoga after getting dressed for it and then looking online at the schedule to find that it was cancelled this Easter Monday. I is a half-assed holiday here in Canada; government and PO, but most businesses open as usual. This would not of been the first time this is happened, as the perps had me dressed for yoga on a previous occasion and "happen" to meet the instructor later in the LD store when she was on her way back to her residence.

In the vineyard I was raking nearly all day, sweeping the leaves and pruning cuttings in the row into the aisle (part between the rows, often grassy and mowed).

After 15 hours or work time, the under-row raking is finished, or at least I thought, as I then went after the gopher holes and found a row I "somehow" missed.

Vole poisoning after that, and having a royal pissing match with the perps as it kept jamming up for no apparent reason.

Then some landscape chores and then it was time to go. A full day of sunshine, and plenty warm as well.

Today, like yesterday, my co-workers were ahead and following me on my home bound commute when ordinarily they stay an extra hour. Funny how their schedules can change so quickly.

A haircut today, always a big deal for the perps. And lo, if two of the staff weren't hanging around the back of the place smoking cigarettes. They did the "split couple" act, having me walk between them while they were 25' apart in conversation for crissakes.

All that hair cutting is a big deal, as is any purposeful hair cut is. Just what the deal is all about I have no idea. I had a slim and young blonde hairstylist with a fugly tattoos on her inner R arm. Plenty of freaks elsewhere in the salon, I suppose she was an energetic reference for the perps as well.

A new phone and new grief; how does one get one's contacts from the old Android device (LG) to the new one (Samsung) except through Google's Gmail. Lets see, I was an IT professional for 20 years and somehow I "forgot" to get contacts off the old device to a medium or web site (Gmail) or whatever interim location and then load them to the new one. And lo, if Samsung's desktop software didn't work either. An online chat support session to reverse the device change didn't work as it went offline and couldn't connect to the network. Cell phones are nearly useless unless there is a connection, even if they are a computer essentially. Other desktop Android support and sync software didn't work as I could not find the commands to set up the phone that I had.

The chat support person got ancy on me for no reason, indicating that all I had to do was follow the "Change Device" procedures which made absolutely no reference to backing up or the Gmail syncing. Had that occurred, I would of dusted off my Gmail account and done the synchronization procedure.

The Fuckover Follies of changing Android phone devices took up three hours last night, and ditto this morning. An hour online chat session this morning did not secure phone connectivity on my old LG. And so I went to the local cell customer support store amidst huge amounts of vehicular gangstalking plus the street painters needing to stop road traffic in one lane under the guise of road line marking, all so the oncoming vehicles were permitted to cross into my lane while I waited for the Traffic Control Technician to give me the go-ahead. There were three streets and a lane all at this confluence, and of course, vehicular traffic from all four directions. And of course those Stop and Slow signs they carry can get very confusing when there are that many roads to monitor.

And I get to the mall at 1115h to see the cell phone company representatives to get my old phone working with full connectivity and lo, if they didn't pull an ersatz store closure and put a paper sign up to indicate they would be closed for another two hours due to inventory re-stocking. Like WTF; they never do this and I have passed this store at least once per week for the last three years, and furthermore, the mall management ordinarily takes a dim view of non-standard mall store closures.

But I should not have been too surprised as the perps pulled this twice yesterday, having me go to the doctor's walk-in clinic twice before I went there later. They screwed me into "thinking" they open at 0800h, but no, it was an hour later I find from the notice on the door. When I returned, why, a huge flood of patients "happened" to be there, and I departed forthwith. Three hours later I go to get there before a 1300h closing time, and did finally succeed in getting the test results I was looking for. So two "warm up" (false start) visitations to the same location before I was allowed, per perp dictate, to get what I was after in the first place.

 The perps were true to their word, that a forced nap was upon me even if I didn't feel tired. I was directed to lay down on my bed and was nap attacked for a little over two hours. The immediate previous activity was pissing around with the Google accounts, passwords and the infernal syntactical maze they created online, where "Add Account" actually means go to another existing account. They have this forced default where the last used email account somehow becomes one's default email/account. And lo, if it wasn't the redundant and deleted account that became my "default" account and came back from the world of being deleted to dog me into dysfunction-world in getting backed up in the Android environment.

And in this protracted agony of getting my contacts and other data recovered from my old phone, why, the Samsung support email, less than 24 hours old, "failed", indicating it timed out for a permissible access. And lo, if the phone support is only available from Monday to Friday. (This now being Sunday evening, PDT).

More valiant efforts to get my data recovered haven't gotten anywhere, but I did finally get the old phone connected, something that took many hours today. And still no progress on getting synced to Gmail, no apparent software to force a sync for crissakes. I was way ahead of this inanity with my Palm Pilot over 15 years ago. Though it would seem that Apple learned from it and made iTunes a PC-desktop support environment while Google just blithely assumed that Gmail was comparable. Not even close, and to get a current day so-called Android based smart phone supported on the desktop isn't doable. Or at least, until one gets to the Samsung and their Kies (on PC) support software. As for the rest of the laggards, LG being one of them, some three years after my cell phone contract they still don't get it. Obvioulsy the Palm Pilot system worked, and we cannot have that in the fog of FUD and all-things-must-screw-up-world of the perps, can we?

An exasperating weekend to say the least, with the opening shot fired by my cell phone provider. They of the every present gangstalking vans along with that criminal cable company here.

Sunday, April 05, 2015

Exasperate the Victim Some More

Said victim being me of course, and it is a Monday, usually when the perps go most nuts with harassment and yoga tops it all off with the spinal extensions, twists and all else they like about yoga so much. Not to mention the attractive instructor.

The perps riled me up in the vineyard forcing more finger fumbling, and even obstructing me from moving my fingers the way I intended. (Thwarting intention is also a big harassment theme). And not quite to a rage-ified level, as I was in the middle of a vineyard with public thoroughfares (walking trail) above and below (road) it.

Added to the annoyance level is this split skin on my thumb, and lo, if it didn't happen four times in the work day, the tying wire somehow got pulled into the split skin fissure wound. All to bleed a little blood around my finger nail and some onto the twist tie tool.

They screwed me out of doing balances in yoga, per usual. And they twice banged my injured L thumb into the floor and had it bleed and send a few drops of blood onto the mat. Call it red blood color registering, but they do like to take blood samples, and especially if it drops onto fabrics and clothes. I assume they can withdraw blood anytime they want via their teleportation games, but for some reason they need it spread around.

My L thumb and forefinger are raw from handling and tying the vine canes to the horizontal trellis wire. Ditto for my R hand. That was when I started today, and naturally, the perps made them worse. They jabbed me at these hand locations at least 30x over the day, and when a shooting pain emanated, why, the vehicular noise parade increased its volume for the next few minutes. And plenty of inaudible swearing at the assholes too, not rage-ification level, but the same exasperated refrains. And they like to bleed these sore every hour or two to leave a blood drop trail on my tool, the vines etc.

There was plenty of ongoing vexation all day today, pulling items from my grasp and not allowing my fingers to work as I intended. All this was preceded by not not having a tying tool, abetted by the possible supplier not returning my phone call, which I am given to understand is entirely expectable. Roll that back one more, as my gloves were constantly getting pinched in the tie wire/twine, so I worked without gloves.

Added into the mix, and I wasn't sure until I got back home after work, the assholes caused a minor shit leak that needed a shower to clean up. When that started I have no idea as they can prevent sensations from registering.

And I see the perps are continuing with their assault on my credit card, this time adding some $6k in credit that went through on a card that was cancelled.

Some relief after yesterday's finger pummeling and jabbing, replete with intense pain each time. I taped my four fingers up this morning and wore thin gloves. And the number of times I had my finger sores re-injured was less than ten.

The boss man went pissy on me for not getting the R garage cleaned out, though it was mostly done, and was cleaned out in a minute or so. I got held up by others, and he said I wasn't doing things fast enough. As usually, the perp ensure I have no snappy refrain, as I found receipts and user manuals in the garbage I was cleaning out a few minutes earlier, and he was appreciative that they  were recovered. Said boss man "forgot" the chain saw a few weeks ago when it was the essential tool for doing the bush clearing on his other property. So I was sent back to get it, at least a 30 mi. round trip and eating into his time for renting the chipper that he had on site. And of course that didn't come to mind as he was haranguing me.

Twice, in two days, I had heated food up in the microwave in the winery and was offered to come to the house and have lunch with company. In other words, take your magnetically irradiated food to a new location and eat it there. I haven't had a microwave since all this insane fuckery began, and the perps make sure I don't want one for whatever reason.


Saturday errands, and that includes the ever-stalked laundromat, whichever one I go to. The gut strut was on before I even got to the door, as seen through the window and door glass. Said male gut strutter, white and with white hair and tidy beard and dressed in all black clothing then proceeded to turn toward me from 8' away temporarily blocking my egress until he turned and did his gut-in-profile move. Like WTF; why cannot I pass through a doorway without some arranged event, this occasion being a faux confrontational stance? On a later visit a red fleece coated fugle overweight woman did something odd in forcing me to walk around her while she strangely held the door open.

At least two other males were in close circulation, one being where I usually do my laundry. So I went to the next two washing machines behind, and lo, if the white-and-black gutstrutter didn't find me back in the corner all to loiter 4' away and looking at the notice board.

A two hour nap attack came on at 1540h, putting a big hole in the day. They had me dozing off at this here desktop PC, and I know the drill. Prior to that, I had chocolate, perhaps for the first time ever without an accompanying hot beverage, tea usually. I also had a two capsules of L-tyrosine to follow the chocolate, and we know who likes to run their victims out of dopamine, don't we?

I am ADD, Inattentive subtype (not Hyperactive) which in real terms means one is short on dopamine. This was determined by a SPECT scan in 2001, about a year before the assholes went over/berserk on me in 04-2002. When the Psychopathic Confederacy (the PC, ironically) subsequently ran me into hospital with abetting police and clinical scum, they put me on medications that bound dopamine, the wrong medication altogether as it made dopamine less available. (And it was brutal to have your mental faculties clobbered for that duration). I gave them the SPECT scan report but that was ignored of course, because they were working for the Psychopaths, not me. The doctors willfully violated their Hippocratic Oath of course, "cause thy patient no harm".

Funny how so-called medical professionals can subvert their principles so readily, and that began with the all time notorious brain trashing wretch, Dr. Ewen Cameron of Montreal, and McGill University. I was two and four y.o. when we lived in Montreal, and it was coincident with his reign as Neurological Abuser-in-Chief at McGill. I have no recollection of seeing him, but other victims have confirmed that he also did child abuse, in a clinical context, and at one time had a box of snakes into which the immobile child victim was placed. The child was first incapacitated with curare and couldn't move a limb to defend itself. All this from the book, "A Nation Betrayed" by Carol Rutz, a victim who was flown into Montreal for the experience. (Actually, two nations that betrayed their citizens in mutual cooperation, Canada and the USA and at the same time,- how convenient).

Again, I have no recollection of these "Lost Years", aged 2 to 5 (b. 1954), but I do know that I was making permanent memories then and for some reason, poof, nothing until 1959-60. BUT I do get a lot of serpentine imagery and motions arranged for me, and of course see real snakes in the vineyard jobs that I do, nothing poisonous thankfully. I also get a whole lot of white haired elder males stalking me, often with glasses, and I suspect doppelgangers for Dr Cameron and others, all to arrange some kind of deep psychic trauma that I cannot detect, except by loathing their sight.

I got up early (0730h) for a weekend day with no alarm set. They had me twist and turn for a few hours before letting me get to sleep).

All the better to get hiking on a sunny but cool windy day. My standard hike to MacIntyre Bluff from the adjacent vineyard. (Where they brought in the SAR helicopter to make 4 circling passes and then had it sit for 20 min. at full hover in 2012). And they didn't let me get gangstalked until on the way down, some six parties, with male skinheads and one with the male fright doll look, red curly hair hanging 2" off his head and the wind conveniently blowing to make it look bigger like a halo almost. If I don't like curly hair, skinheaded males and red hair, why am I relentlessly hounded by these freaks for nearly 13 years?

Then back to my residence after dealing with some strange drivers on the way back, the one that wanted to pass me on the R. side when I was held up by a truck in the L. lane. He just happened to run out of room as there was a vehicle that the truck was attempting to pass, and he was taking his time.

Some pics and stories:

 A momentous moment in 13 years of abuse at the hands of the Psychopathic Confederacy; they are having me switch to a new color of Dawn to go with their intense and insane obsession over the color my dishes cleaning detergent. After having me use Dawn with a inky darker blue until about 2008 or so, they had me switch to the blue colored Dawn on the R. But today, "for some reason", the LD store was out of blue Dawn for the very first time ever, and they had only green Dawn in their sparsely stocked dishes detergent section. And to encourage the victim to "double up", why, it was on sale for 2 for $4, saving a whole $.50. And of course the red and yellow Dawn was also out of stock, just in case I wanted to give them the FU choice.

 Excuse the pics that won't conform to adding text captions where I want. After having some 200+ of this particular chocolate over the past 13 years of insane abuse, why, they slip one in that doesn't have the regular packaging, the one on the L. And too, the gold colored printing comes off and spreads gold paint flakes on the kitchen counter. I wonder in this era of intense automation how one mis-printed chocolate wrapper on the R, (no gold print) somehow found its way to my shopping basket. Yes, I have seen plenty more of this particular chocolate on the shelves of SOF, and never once have I seen one with mis-printed packaging. Image, after a forced chocolate "habit" of $200/month to deal with the perp's brown color problem, they are now adding in packaging "anomalies". I think we have at least 6 years to go on this gig. That will make it 2021 or so, and the same for all other TI's I suspect.


And the perps are at it again, breaking my headphones. Is this the fourth or fifth pair they have destroyed in the last 13 years? This pair had been sent across the country in 2012 to get repaired due to the plastic breaking up, and lo, if it didn't "happen" again. Note that I have taken particularly good care of these headphones, as I do with all the pairs that I have had, and somehow they got broken yet again. They had already been repaired by me with the black tape on either side of the head cushion, and I thought I could wear them again. No such luck, in the Headphone Sabotage Department of the Psychopathic Confederacy.

Anyhow, I am going to post this for the week and hope this one will be better than the last.