Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Instructing the Instructor

Back to the regular yoga instructor today, but last week's lithesome and attractive instructor was there as a student for some curious reason. The latter was decidedly more attractive and encouraging, the regular instructor is more terse and command prone. There is something about instructors and their tone and look that fascinates the perps, even if one limits it to female yoga instructors. At the vineyard job, all (female) of the tasting room staff have been giving me instructions on various tasks they want fulfilled. And of course there is the regular boss lady too. Essentially, I don't care one whit; all I need to know is can I understand the instructions and will I find them applicable to the assigned task. Often, I get extraneous instruction that just doesn't make sense, sometimes because the boss cannot recall all the details because they haven't done the job for a while.

And too, they forced me into a front center mat position, in front of the instructor so she could direct her finger tips my way in demonstrating the chair position. Another excuse for someone to flick fingers in my face it would seem, the aforementioned boss lady being another.

In the trunk of my car, an oil leak from a inexplicable pin hole puncture in the plastic oil container I keep it in the trunk in a brown cardboard box. Said box was removed and no leaks through to the trunk liner, some what miraculously given the perps need to make messes everywhere possible. And we know who can deal with miracles too; just another passing moment at the office for them.

Some ruminations about the landlord couple at this here carriage rental accommodation. Given the intense scrutiny I am under, especially with respect to my residence, there is no doubt they were on the harassment/orchestration long before I met them in mid-2013. But of interest is that they have been away for the last three weeks, and without them saying anything about handling the mail as before. Not a big deal in and of itself, but what caused me to speculate that they may be at perp school, a full year's absence I have come to observe, was a peculiar stunt the landlady performed. I had just pulled in to my lane parking next to the brown wood fence, and some 60' away in her usual red truck parking location, she pulls out in a small black compact vehicle, one I hadn't seen before. And no shiny well looked after car like their usual two, it was of varying paint condition, from shiny to flat black, straight out out of the perp shop IMHO. Her drivers side window was open, and she waved and said hello as she passed by in the lane, as I had just exited my vehicle. That was two weeks ago. It was this curious visitation/stalk which caused me to wonder why would she return to her house for a single drive-by stalking and then not to be seen since.

Some background on above mentioned perp school suspicion; from 1990 to 1999 I swam with a adult swim club in Victoria, BC. For those who don't know, it is a town with a stable population, even some growth. And yet some 8 to 10 of some 30 to 40 active swimmers disappeared for a year, citing a job or marriage that didn't work out, went back east etc. I could not figure it out then, and of this group, most of them have been involved in gangstalking scenes in the same town where I spent my first years as TI, 2003 to 2012 when I moved to the present location of Penticton. (I was based in Seattle in 2002 when the perps first went berserk/overt on me.)

At the vineyard job it was picking today, and some extra pickers were hired for the day. And lo, a blonde French Canadian couple, both with blonde dreadlocks (seriously Unfavored). Mostly, they had hats over this unsightly hair style, but as the day wore on, they figured I needed to see more of the hair; fugly, and without redeeming aesthetic qualities. A few years back in Victoria, they put a blonde dread-locked woman on the street immediately in front of me with my perp-abetting mother so each of us could have a gander at this disgusting look. I suppose the perps were doing some kind of psychic reactivity comparison, with me as the more psychically damaged one. I don't know exactly why I loathe dreadlocks hair, but I do, and am utterly pissed I need to be hounded with this and the rest of the Unfavored themes/sightings/stalkings for over 13 years of unrelenting psychopathic abuse. And all because the perpetrators wish to continue this human non-consensual experimentation without declaring themselves. And what is the point of that senselessness?

And what is it that the perps have to fuck with my supplements all the more? I started taking magnesium three months back and lo, if the leg cramps didn't stop once I got the dose dialed in. And lo, if the assholes keep jacking with what particular brand and formulation, by restricting the supply at the store. This time it is magnesium citrate, before that it was magnesium malate and before that it was magnesium bisglycinate. Clearly, the entire harassment/abuse program has a long way to go if this is what they are truly pissing around with.

A different vineyard, this one in Osoyoos, and digging up puncture vine all day today. The weather was warm and sunny, and I even got a tan on my shirtless torso. (At the regular vineyard there is a dress code as has public access). I have no complaints even if the job is rather mundane, though upward mobility is substantially limited.

A shorter shift today, as I asked for time off to apply in person for forest nursery job opening up. I have done this kind of work before, working on a conveyor line of plug stock forest seedlings passing by, bunching them, and also working with the packaging. The seedlings are then sent to the coolers and are ready for the spring planting. I am sure that my chosen former career in forestry was perp guided, if not totally managed. As to what they are looking for with respect to trees (and all other plants) and me is unknown, though it seems that they have a particular interest in annual woody growth.

Saturday, and working for my former full time employer, on his 32 ton crush. Despite my reservations about his gerry-rigged fermentation plans (20,000L !), I help all the same. I just don't want to be tagged with being responsible for it all. Though it does cause me to pause why he is taking so much on without a credible game plan in place.

Sunday. and ditto; and even getting good at it, team crush work no less. And also of considerable note, nothing went wrong (malfunctions, accidents etc.) today and yesterday.

Anyhow, time to get this posted for the week.

Monday, September 21, 2015

Work Adjustment

While at work, and expecting to work long hours on the grape crushing/fermenting activity that is true for all wineries, I learn from the boss-lady that I had "better look for other picking jobs by mid next week...". A total blindside and total disruption of all my employment expectations, as I thought I had two months of significant earnings ahead of me. Instead, I have a bank balance in the negative territory each month end. So, in other words, a major employment readjustment, or more like, enforced impoverishment, living as close to the line as I have been doing all year.

A day of making up shipping boxes in a dingy concrete warehouse all day today,. That is, assembling brown cardboard boxes of varying sizes, some all brown, and some with printed color on the outside. And can I say that the perps are not only obsessed with the color brown, but coardboard too. I cannot count the gangstalking weirdness episodes related to these particular props, but the Fuckwits who walk in town or off the bus with flattened cardboard boxes propped on their heads and held with one arm certainly take the cake for bizarre-ness. 

The day began with the notion of filling my vehicle's tank with gasoline, as I kept on getting screwed out of recalling to do this for the prior four days. But no, at the fuelling station, the brown sugar water purveyor, Pepsi this time, was blocking ALL 10 fuel stations at the Chevron. I  finally I had some morning time before work to get this done,and lo, a Pepsi tractor trailer was roadside to all the pumps with extra traffic cones for those not directly obstructed. Just totally absurd.

I made close to 600 boxes by day's end, applying tape and some muscle to apply the tape gun and then assemble them into 100/pallet so they could be moved if needed. Then, if enough adversity in messing with my fine motor control (fingers) wasn't enough all day, why, they dithered my faculties over the last half hour to the point making me assemble every other box upside down, until I was allowed to detect the error, and remake them right side up. All this to infuriate me, and then once at home, a sudden "need" to eat brown junk food (chocolate and chocolate coated ice cream), one after the other before I was allowed to make dinner. I never do this voluntarily, as I am most conscious of what I eat and in what order.

The abusiveness carried on later to in the form of online fuckery, as they won't allow me to display my order for the door handle replacement that was cancelled on me. Last week the perps took out the rear driver side door handle, breaking the plastic part, the second most used one behind the driver. The driver's door handle was broken some two months ago, and replaced with stock Toyota parts, pre-painted in the correct paint color, a mid-metallic grey.

This time, for some reason, a whole new mentality was installed once I learned that the dealership informed me it was $160 for the part (correct color) and $120 to install it. I decided to look around on the there interweb and to my surprise, I could get aftermarket unpainted door handle for $23USD, so I ordered it from an outfit that will ship to Canada. And lo, if they didn't cancel the order the day I placed it. Insult after injury is how it goes; wreck the car part and then obstruct the victim in getting a cost effective replacement, atter soaking him some $350 to replace the first one.

Now I see the perps deleted the email altogether as they just didn't want it to appear on this here blog as the cut and paste suddenly "malfunctioned" at first.

Grape picking, then soil digging and scraping to finish a down-pipe job, then in the afternoon, more brown box making at the concrete warehouse. There were plenty of brown vehicles on the stalk when headed there. Tomorrow, a group of us will pack these boxes with wine.

Myself and four women employees packed 12 pallet loads of wine for shipment today. All those boxes I made up in advance were used to place re-packed wine and then an outside shipment case was added after the product literature was added. All those brown boxes, half with color print on them, and one could imagine that the brown box stalkers had a field day, given their preoccupation with the color brown in varying lighting conditions. Paltry fluorescent bulbs in a grey concrete ceiling and floored warehouse to begin with, and then a bright tungsten arc construction floodlight was added and pointed at the ceiling. And too, the pallet moving, placement and packing would of been great benefit to the wood/shipment/pallet stalking objectives of this non-stop non-consensual human abuse-athon.

Saturday, and in keeping with ensuring all employment possibilities remain open, I was helping out the wine-making at my former employer. It was  just like old times; the bickering owner couple, the excess of confusion and misdirection to do things that weren't that important as it turned out. However, much bonhomie, and I do like to be involved in wine-making. The perps plundered my knowledge of the activities their sequence, and concentrations of additives at first, making me into one blundering fool for a bit until I was given enough clues to get started in the right direction.

A Sunday work day today, a rare event in the scheme of things, having me work a sequence with the present employer (not for long, per above), then the former employer of three years (yesterday), and then back to the present employer at the warehouse to do more box making and pallet packing with my co-workers. The perps are decidedly cycling me, though the precise reasons aren't clear, but their usual themes of pallets, pallet jack use, wine, grapes, cardboard boxes etc. all come to mind.

Also noted is that the perps have been continually screwing me out of purchasing and eating fruit for the last three weeks, except the odd grape bunch as they come off the vine. That is, only small amounts, as the perps make it loud an clear that eating too much fruit of any kind gives me the trots. And yes, sugar intake and metabolizing also seems to be of considerable perp interest, and in all likelihood the swath of medical woe in the form of diabetes, high fructose corn syrup, obesity and whatever else the Insane Machinators have fomented upon their research subjects at large.

Time to get this posted for all to peruse and ponder the universal question of "why cannot the perps just declare themselves and their human research agenda instead of putting me and thousands of other TI's through this insane and relentless litany of abuse applied by remote means?".

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Slinging Sand

A 11 hour job today at a construction site; moving wheelbarrows of sand to bed and then cover a water line with the sand, the proper way to bury pipes so they don't get damaged from rocks. Oh what a job it was, as I had to go up and down ramps I laid down to get to different parts of the site. Which made for slightly smaller loads to enable me to take the wheelbarrow uphill in places, adverse grade to the logging road engineer.

It was a pink red wheelbarrow with a yellow tire that I used to transport the sand in. An odd color for a construction site, but we know who likes to manipulate colors, and also lay on Unfavored colors in my view. There was at least five events where they played this same pink-red color in plasmic form, a 12"x3" splotch of red color plasma accompanying the wheelbarrow in motion. So presumably the sand in the wheelbarrow took on some of the red color energy and once loaded onto the water pipe, it did too. And presumably the water, once flowing in the pipe will do the same. Ask the perps for a full rundown on all what they are looking for.

Once the regular construction crew departed at 1500h, the perps laid on the teleportational and gravimetric fuckery. Suddenly, the wheelbarrow could not be manipulated like I expected, dumping sand in the wrong location, pulling objects from my grasp, having the ramps suddenly bounce and hop out of place etc. All to get me riled up and vocally articulate the intense exasperation laid on me.

Then major crap in the porta-potti within ten minutes of them leaving. I finished at sunset. and lo, the the deep red colored vehicles were out in droves, sometimes 6 per view. One's light perception changes at dusk and dawn, from using cone cells to rod cells, and the perps just love to place red vehicles around me in these low light conditions. This has been totally consistent for the past 13 years of this insane abuse-athon the perps laid on me since they went berserk/overt in 04-2002.

Picking grapes today, with hired extra crew, drawing from the French Canadian pickers, aka, the Frenchies. The perps like me to have foreign language spoken around me, thus separating out the sound from meaning, though there is the odd French word I know, often dropped into the conversation.

There was a seeming lull in the action between picking sites, and after waiting some 5 minutes, (an unheard of length of down time on this site), suddenly two pickers arrived from the R, and the boss lady from the L. One of those personnel/stalker convergence stunts the perps so like to pull, though this was in a limited visibility situation.

Later, with the regular Rawk music system in the winery, suddenly cutoff when I detected the music as noise. It was an internet feed, and no one was in the room where the streaming device was. So how do these sudden drop-outs in the sound system occur with such amazing coincidence? And not just this time, though other perceptual shifts as well. e.g attention shifting.

I was dispatched early off work, then got nailed with a two hour nap attack to nullify any attempt to use my found time for backlogged chores like laundry.

I finally got my glasses back from the optician, a $200 hit to deal with the titanium temple that was sheared without any excess or undue force, just normal handling. The other temple has a dent in it, and there is no way with normal handling can anyone put a dent in this hinge-less titanium temple piece.

And service with beligerence; unilateral replacement with an unauthorized part. They soldered a cable temple on that was not supplied, using a different one from their own supply. And have I not mentioned the asymmetrical object fuckery that is the perp signature stunt? Often enough.

The new temple and soldered cable temple is seen on the R side of the glasses, replacing the temple piece on the far R and the tag attached to it. With the perps making my face asymmetrical with a 1/2" higher eyebrow on my R side, and these glasses NEVER sitting straight on my head, don't we have enough asymmetry already?

And sure enough, with my regular glasses back on, the perps pulled all manner of visual fuckery. People on the street were seen in double momentarily and other image fracturing. Same assholes doing the same thing each time I exit the optician.

The all time silly stunt for this obscure category, (Victim Wears Inaugural Lenses perhaps) was about five years ago when I first got this pair. They had two males in suits and in fedoras coming through the door of the optician store, almost stumbling on each other. Like WTF; when do two some 40 y.o. adult males go shopping for glasses together, never mind the 1950's fedora look?

Saturday, and finally I was allowed to get hair cut, and ongoing need for the last three weeks, as they didn't cut enough off the last time. The salon was closed for a week, and other perp mental machinations ran interference until the perp required obstruction/delay needs were met. But there weren't done yet; the appointment was for 1330h and I get a phone call at 1315 saying I didn't make my 1300h appointment. I did the explaining thing, and they re-booked me for 1400h. I was expecting that they would screw me out of a haircut altogether today, in keeping with their ongoing interference on this matter. But no, I was allowed to get my haircut at this training salon. And no one said squat about it when I got there.

I had a native Indian stylist with two Caucasian girls watching, as they only started last week and needed to watch they told me. The stylist had an asymmetrical hair style, with one side short enough to see her scalp, possibly emulating that distinctive male crew cut. I loathe crew cuts and anything shorter, especially the male skinheads, the ones with the shiny bald pate. For some reason, males over 20, and all their possible features, especially military uniforms (per below) is a part of the Unfavored feature perp freak show they arrange around me in public, and even online. The perps even don't like to have me with a hair cut that has the hair cut around the ears to make them prominent. My hair is always cut to length so that it drapes to my ear.

It is a hair cut that seems to defy the stylists, save a few. They cut my hair too long today, just like the last time. I usually give up after the second attempt for them to get it right, as I figure the cut and length have been already arranged in advance.

The stylist seemed scared shitless the whole time I was in her chair, so I figured I would get the hair cut over with. As usual, other Unfavored featured stylists cruised by, especially the fat girls. At one time they had three in view at once, about the most possible. And lo, if the fat supervisor wasn't in an unnatural orange colored hair-do, to do a final inspection, but she also happened to catch me about to depart with the paper collar on. Somehow, the stylist forgot and somehow I didn't notice. The latter being very unusual as I don't like anything around my neck, save a scarf in winter.

And hair cuts are a big deal for the perps; not only do they get to keep my hair and analyze it for whatever they are looking for, but also, the action of using metal objects, scissors in this case, to cut anything is of intense interest to them. Go figure; humans have been cutting each other for millennia, but most typically game meats, and here they are hounding my ass every time I use a knife to cut meat or anything else.

Sunday, and I did picking at the regular employer's vineyard, and everything went well, and picking was done in less than three hours. The grapes were in perfect shape, no bunch rot whatsoever. I did other tasks too, and even had to run an employee to another site where grapes were being picked, as he was the truck driver. And lo, if the keys weren't forgotten and I had to make a second trip for them.

Afterwards I visited the former boss to drop off borrowed materials I used to develop his grocery list for winery supplies, now that he is doing 30 tons, (=20,000L) on a shoe-string, much of the methods untried. It was way too much responsibility and risk for me to accept his job offer last week to work on his rube-goldberg/patch/fudge/fix winery equipment. Besides, I had already been through his charming persuasion for three years, and came out of it vexed at times in attempting to keep it all together and not ruin the wine. (Usually done by exposing it to too much oxygen). That was 2,000L, yes, one less zero, and I had two tanks to hold it.

On the way there, the RCMP, (aka Royal Canadian Mendacious Plods) pulled a traffic stop, though the let the S bound lane (me) proceed slowly without any engagement. The N bound lane was stopped for some reason, and I could not detect any genuine police activity such as asking drivers for papers. One was giving instructions to S bound drivers, one stopping the N bound traffic and two standing on the R side, and with two police vehicles with flashing lights. And all of them in dark navy blue with protective vests. All this on a corner and the speed limit some 60kph. And no sign of it when I returned 20 minutes later.

I have had a few of these kind of seeming pointless daytime police traffic stops in this region, some 2 to 4 per year. The last one was in town on some S bends, 50kph speed limit, and there was a single fat policeman in dark pants and in his tan/sand colored shirt, standing on the extra-wide 12' yellow painted median, waving traffic, and for me to proceed. No other police or vehicles for some curious reason. It was the same fat policeman who stopped me about a year ago, near today's traffic stop, and had me stop to view my driver's license, and he also inspected the rear license plate sticker for proof of valid automobile insurance. (Aka "tags" in the US, or at least, WA state where I lived for a time). And lo, if I hadn't put on the stickers/tags just that morning. Another one of those staged coincidences.

Then later, a pissing match over light bulb replacements for the bathroom. It is a four bulb straight bar fixture, with exposed bulbs, and their fuckery had already begun with the #2 bulb a few months ago. It stopped working and of course I wasn't allowed to know for a week or two. Then I touched the bulb when the fixture was on and lo, if it didn't come back on. One of those connection "problems", har, har.

Then about two weeks ago the #2 bulb was off again, this time the element had broken, as I could see through the clear glass. Today I got a new bulb replacement set as I expected remainder to go in short order. The perps fucked me into getting the wrong wattage, so I took them back and got a new set. The new set did not work in positions #1 and # 2;(two of four new bulbs didn't work). So then, the usual chase game, is it the bulb or the fitting into the fixture? After pissing around swapping them in dingey lighting conditons, the #2 location would not run a working bulb. Funny how it happens, that its the fixture, then the bulb and now the fixture. All the same socket of course.

Another supporting game of fuckery is to have me leave the same bathroom lights on after I exit. I always turn off the lights  on exit if I am not soon returning, and now they have started this "forget" habit over the same infernal light fixture. Sometimes I am allowed to find the lights on after an hour or two, or sometimes a few minutes. This same fucking madness over lights and light bulbs.

Anyhow, another posting to record some of the events in TI World, down a very deep rabbit hole.

Sunday, September 06, 2015

A Triathlete Comes for Yoga

Yoga, and what a sight it was. Firstly though, the perps pulled a scab or otherwise inflicted me with some minor bloodletting on my shin just before class. Once class had begun, the assholes then caused it bleed again after I thought it was staunched with finger pressure. But no, they wanted more blood so I excused myself to get a band-aid from the front desk outside the practice room. I was attending to this when a man in a full-body suit, including his head but not his face, rushes past and enters the practice room. And not just any stretch fabric suit. but a tight and streamlined all over and in a reflective silver sheen with random red patterns printed on it. In 1996 while at a Oracle conference I witnessed on the streets in San Francisco a clothed man painted entirely in silver colored paint, including his skin. This freak in the yoga room was comparable as that a once in a lifetime all-out painted freak.

About a minute later I get the band aid applied and the wound staunched and I entered the practice room and this tight silver fabric covered freak was on my yoga mat with the instructor motioning him to take his own mat that was pulled from the shared mats. The obvious question was why was he on my mat when he grabbed a shared mat at the entrance and laid it down 2' from my own mat? I don't expect an answer to that. And to add insult to injury, the silver skinned freak placed his mat so he would be exactly in my sight line to the instructor. This lead me to view her in the adjacent glass mirror for most of the class, which I am sure is what the perps wanted. And it did not go unnoticed that the instructor's mat was not in the center at the front, but offset some 6' from her normal position to accomplish this line of sight blocking with the utter freak.

And to add this this curiosity, the class was scheduled at the same time there was a the Penticton Challenge Triathlon dinner only a half block away. Not that any athletes would go dressed in their presumed race clothing, as I attended this dinner two years ago when my visiting brother, and Challenge participant, gave me a free ticket for the dinner. Never in my life, such as it is, have I ever seen such an misplaced bizarre freak as this mat squatter, save for the silver painted man walking on the street in San Francisco (1996) when attending the Oracle Open World conference.

I finished power washing the picking bins today; that would be four days worth, though I had other tasks to do. The perps love power washing for some reason, and all the better they can mess with the victim by taking his hand off the trigger anytime they want. There was at least 10 of these incursions a day while doing power washing. As part of the process I rotate the bins that are on one side so I can get to the side that was sitting on the ground to wash it. At the same time I get the upper inside, now vertical, to wash it too as it is easier to access. And in washing on this second pass, three bins in succession, why, my hand somehow let off the trigger as soon as I started on the new vertical inside panel (formerly horizontal at the top). Funny how that happens, har, har.

And of course the perps continue to exploit my vision as I have my old prescription which does not have the close-in (far sighted) focusing. Often times I rest the glasses to my forehead so I can read or otherwise see close. Other times I don't bother, say, when an object is reasonably familiar (e.g. dinner) and I don't need to inspect it. What the perps get from this variable object focusing I have no idea, but it seems to be a big deal. And of course too, seeing an object out of focus with my glasses on and then without brings them no end of nonconsensual experimental joy.

And 2015 is the Year of Permissible Salads on this nonconsensual gig. Almost every day of the week, where last year it was one per week at most. Mind you there isn't a whole lot of variability as I cut up cooked chicken, a regular staple since 2003 when I was allowed to live on my own. I would make the cooked chicken go into quesadillas on most meals, and then I would use it for my protein salad ingredient. All that stopped in 2006, and apart from First Feral Family offerings, I didn't make salads at all until 2014, and even then, on a limited basis, less than 3x/month. That changed when at the First Feral Family house over Christmas 2014 when my perp abetting mother was giving me salads almost every day for three weeks. I thought it most curious, and now in 2015, and especially since May, I have had salads most days of the week.

Also in contention for perp authorized diet change is eating eggs. Back in 2001, before this assault went berserk/overt the assholes turned me off eggs as it seemed I was getting some kind of reaction that wasn't making me feel all that well. After they went berserk/overt in 04-2002 I would be allowed eggs at the hospital, duly clustered among the gangstalking "patients", and eggs did not have a deleterious effect. Anyhow, I remained turned off them, and it is only two (responsible and relevant) books in 2015 that "encouraged" me (read mind controlled victim) to eat eggs again. And of course, no adverse reaction even if I have two in an omelet.

I finished a Saturday of vineyard work at the alternate employer. It was cool and windy, with the Testalinden Forest Fire still burning in places on the opposite side of the valley. I had a turbaned partner on the other side of the row for half the morning, he of Punjabi decent and the orange turban matched the orange detail on his brown runners. On this theme last week, when finishing up and ready to drive home, why, a two tone brown pickup drives up beside me (parked off the road), and a turbaned Punjabi male rolls down the window to ask me if "our people had gone home yet?" My answer was "yes", as they had just done so, and he drove off ahead of me. Orange on brown again, three tones of the latter, his skin and the two on his pickup truck. The shenanigans the perps must go through over vehicle colors, both at the auto manufacturing plant and in arranging the phalanxes of gangstalking vehicles.

Speaking of brown, a pig-out on Nutella yesterday and today, and I was totally disgusted in getting made to eat hydrogenated fats, aka "modified palm oil". The Nutella solution to getting trans fats out of the public eye is to change the product ingredient description. As long time readers will know, the perps have an abiding interest in fat consumption, and presumably lipid biogenesis. All those years of low fat diets are coming into disrepute because fat ingestion does not make one overweight the experts are saying. And for my efforts of getting rid of trans fats in my diet 30 years ago, and now regularly consuming coconut oil, I get stiffed with the Nutella-for-a-song price at the LD store and worse yet, eat too much of it in one sitting. I feel violated.

More power washing today, but this time it was my own vehicle at the much gangstalked car wash. Then a run down the highway for 20 minutes to dry the car off, and what a huge gangstalk traffic train it was in both directions. I almost got the split-couple treatment, he on a motorcycle (two wheel) and she on a three wheel motorcycle, matching colors of vehicles, helmets and garments, the whole over-the-top yuppie look. I say "almost" because at no time did my vehicle pass between them as they were sticking very close to each other and made lane changes exactly together. The same couple came to stalk me on these same vehicles some 5 months ago when exiting the woods after a hike on a more remote paved road. The split couple gangstalking tactic is known for ambulatory couples who somehow coordinate themselves, often at the last second to leave me with no alternate path but to pass between them. And of course I have no idea how much this "happened" before the perps went berserk/overt in 04-2002 as they were so very discreet about this. Now that I am in gangstalk hell, they have given themselves permission to do this with impunity.

 Anyhow, I am going to post this Sunday night PDT, knowing that I will likely have little to say after a shut-in day of waxing and cleaning my vehicle for the winter ahead.

Wednesday, September 02, 2015

Headphone Hassle

My one pair of Grado headphones suddenly sprang a break in the plastic gimbel mount.  This the third time down for these particular headphones, and the second time they have attacked this particular part. Back in the frenetic full blown assault days of 2002, they spun the metal posts that attach to the gimbel mount in place. I was wearing my headphones at work as they kept the directed and severe head pains at bay. After odd sensations at my ears,  I took them off and found the perps were spinning the metal posts in their mount (in place) until the drivers dropped from the mounts, making the headphones unwearable. Sweet of them, and two years later when this high level abusive assault had "settled down" I phoned Grado for new gimbel mounts which were duly sent from their factory in NYC.

This time the game seems to be taking these preferred headphones out of commission for a few weeks, as I must send them away to a repair depot in Quebec and pay a flat $55 fee. And so the perps headphone games seems to be having me wear the cheap silver colored Sony headphones (that have never been sabotaged for the past 13 years) while listening to the same music that I did with the Grados. Meanwhile, the Denon headphones got sabotaged about three months ago and they won't reply to my emails as to getting replacement parts. Another sweet touch from the perps, all over headphones, aka, magnet,s at the side of one's head.

Even hearing protection earmuffs get beat up, and then the replacement head seal parts don't fit by 2mm, as long time readers will recall. No magnets in them though.

Still smoky in the Okanagan valley today, with some 200m of visibility at ground level. The perps like a good fire, and they got one in the Stickpin Fire in Washington state, now within 5km of the border at 35,000 acres. And I suppose all us folks breathing the same soot serves the perp's games as it revolves around the lungs/air/energetics (and associated colors) research objective. Beyond that, I have no idea as to what their purposes are with respect to "the breath" as they keep repeating in yoga.

A visit to the local drop-in medical clinic to get my Rx repeat; they insist that I can have only a 3 month supply, and so these trips to the doctor's office four times a year, plus others. They put the pleasant and attentive medical assistant on today, and with her doting manner and slim figure, she has made a significant positive impression the past three times or so that I have encountered her. She was running the show behind the counter while I was there, except when I exited, because the bitchy young one was placed next to her as I passed by.

This was the medical office assistant (MOA) that got into a total snit last year when my medical card had an unreadable number on it, duly rubbed off by the perps in the interim as three months earlier it was just fine (and had no other use). At the time, said bitch also seemed to not know that the magnetic stripe was readable and that she had a magnetic reader slot on the end of her keyboard. And of course I wasn't allowed to know about that detail at that moment as a rebuttal to her over dramatized complaining about my medical card's legibility. So what is this game about then, putting the nice girl next to the bitch, and having me glance their way for a second or two on the way out of the office? It is absurd as it is contrived. Or is it more games about placing the one with the Favored aura next to the Unfavored aura? This would be similar to the long running perp's game of putting the (Unfavored) dudes next to the Favored babes, and too, putting dudes and other Unfavored specimens next to the Favored attractive blonde babe. The difference this time is that the bitch "earned" her Unfavored status last year, different than the usual gangstalking parade of freaks that appear to have some kind of psychic abreactions generated in the lost years (read recall wiped), when aged 2 to 5 y.o.

And if that wasn't enough of the medical capers, then the Rx capers followed. The perps were having me piss more frequently of late, and that meant I needed to get my Rx refilled. I was holding off on the refill for the reason of avoiding a $70 charge for the Rx (read on). I asked for a partial refill of 10 pills and when I returned, the asshole filled the full Rx. Not only that, the perps controlled me to not complain, and not say anything and take the full $70 hit. Two days later, this same male Rx was doing duty for me to see him there, but he then retreated and I got a sweet young Rx babe in glasses to take my Rx.

I went to the the Good Doctor in Kelowna, this time no forest fires broke out along the way, unlike my last trip there for the same purpose, 6 weeks ago or so. I am going to be starting testosterone supplementation in the next week, and we shall see where this goes.  [later update: Wrong, three forest fires broke out in the Kelowna area during my visit, not two like last visit. The link has only one listed, but I was told by my co-worker it was three. Maybe he rolled these fires together].

After i visit the doctor I see a new skin tag has erupted on my face, making it the fourth one, three in the last two months or so. It is medical wack-a-mole again, solve one problem (I hope) and another erupts too late to get a doctor to deal with it.

Another music/headphone takedown, totally blatant. After listening to a new performer for one song, the headphones, the one remaining working pair, got sabotaged for no music. There was no change in websites, it was simply selecting the next song on the list, and poof, they didn't work. Ditto for a certain rock queen's videos, they don't play when they worked fine last night on the same site. (This was the same rock queen I whose biography I read two weeks ago).

The perps broke my frame-less glasses this morning; I had just got up, reached for them and poof, the temple piece broke. I turned on the light to see what happened, and the assholes broke (looks more like sheared) the titanium hinge-less temple. An hour off to see the optician and the part ($125) will have to be ordered from Montreal, and the custom soldering to put the cable temple on will be done in a lab in Vancouver. Some 8 to 10 days he said. So now I wear my backup pair without the integrated bifocal, hence much lifting of my glasses to see anything close.

And a blood draw at the lab across the street from the optician. The elder-duckie males were on the gangstalk beat; one had to accompany me coming from outside, and the other "happened' to be there on the second floor, now two of them and me in the elevator for a three story building. And lo, if the fuckers didn't go to the lab as well, needing blood draws too. And lo, if there wasn't a profusion of red vehicles after this, and even three same red vehicles in sequence ahead of me at one point. And I had a picture, but somehow it got lost when transferring from the phone to this PC. Funny how that happens.

Everything is going wrong today, and these recall lapses the assholes are putting on me are unsettling to say the least. The they pulled a driving stunt, having me exit a known location I have used before, and then I turned into the oncoming lane, in L hand drive mode for about three seconds until they let me in on the fact I was on the wrong side of the road with a vehicle some 100m away. I haven't had one of these blatant wrong way driving mind control stunts since about 2005 or 2006, when they pulled this one at night. And of course, held off the traffic to avoid a collision, just like this time. Funny how that happens.

I worked for my Saturday employer, as a member of a vineyard labor crew. They all seem to know what to do without instruction with respect to the gangstalking scene. As most of the crew are E. Indian, as is the foreman, and most of the instruction is in their language. More than once I have been lured into going the wrong way, only to find them all working away on an adjacent new block. Then they filter out unseen to move their vehicles closer, and lo, if I don't find this out later and retrive my vehicle at lunch time, two hours later.

And just the regular crew, no Mexicans as they are on the night time picking shift, supporting the grape harvesting that typically begins at 0300h. That is, the dead of the night when the grapes are cool. They may be hand picking after the harvester has been through.

The Penticton Challenge is on today, and my brother participates in regularly, and its predecessor, the Penticton Iron Man. In the case of the latter he would do all three triathlete sports, but the Challenge version allows team relays, so he does the cycling.

In the last thee years he has come for the event he and his family contact me and I hang out with my sister-in-law and niece.  We would try to catch him at the transitions and cheer him on, and especially when he finished. But this year, they never phoned in advance, and only today did I get a call from my sister-in-law, later in the morning, and she indicated that they were going to have a nap in the afternoon. Nothing says "don't bother us" louder when a nap is calling. I was told the brother-athlete would phone me in the afternoon, but he didn't. He and his family scuttled off without so much as phone call after the event..

My brother and family pulled this same stunt back in 2005 or 2006, when I lived in Victoria. They came from out of town to visit for the weekend and never called me when there. It is fucking rude, but in keeping with the harassment prominent hassle I get from every direction. This is just the First Feral Family version. Maybe he doesn't want to front for the speakers he stole from my belongings that I discovered last Christmas, though I doubt whether he gives a shit as to his thieving victims.But what I would like to know is who told that the speakers were there in the crawl space, and how did he manage to find the right box. (Though, it may have been labelled on the outside). But still, the speakers and other boxes had been there unperturbed since 2007, and suddenly he "finds" them (to steal).

Anyhow, I got 5lb of basil rendered into pesto sauce, though only by adding olive oil so it can be frozen in an ice cube tray and then kept as frozen for winter time use. A true pesto sauce would have garlic and nuts added, but I will add them at the time of food preparation instead.. Call it freezer storage pesto, as the perps so like to have things named, And usually, many names to maximize the confusion, aka FUD. And they are also besotted with vegetation being cut, and all the better when in a food processor. It was the last batch, or maybe the one before, when they ran a lawnmower simultaneously from several houses away.

Continued fuckery over being able to read due to my integrated bifocal glasses been taken out two days ago. To see anything close I must take my old pair off  or lift them to my forehead. As always, such fuckery is engineered to the microsecond, and what they get from it I don't know. It has long been apparent that the perps like to arrange for me so see familiar and unfamiliar objects and beings through all kinds of transparent medium; safety glass with the layer of plastic in it, single and double pane window glass, plastic lenses and even through poly plastic. At the farm I was working at in 2008 to 2010, they even had a negro parade though the poly covered greenhouse for crissakes.

And this posting got delayed for three days, as I like to post them on Sunday evening. Then they had my Sunday evenings too busy, and so it slid to Monday. That is yoga night, and so finishing the blog posting didn't happen until Tuesday evening. Now the assholes have made the weekly posting day Wednesday. I often find that the perps like to incrementally change days or expections from the readers' perspective. Just as they like to change prices on items in the store, jacking them up or down, and ensuring that I get to see it. Anyhow, enough trivia, and to get this posted