Sunday, November 27, 2016

Naturopathic Diversion

Saw the naturopath last week over my prostate cancer, and I explained some of my past medical history, but she adroitly cut me off when I was about to explain the 04-2002 apartment invasion by unknown personnel, (and the associated ADD pro-dopaminergic treatment cessation) the opening barrage of this nonstop abuse-athon. Funny how her timing was so impeccable just when the story was getting interesting. Talk about well scripted or well mind controlled (or both).

She said not to worry about dopamine deficiency; here we go again, climbing that wall of  adversity of getting treated for dopamine deficiency. Been there, done that, now 4 for the count this time. (Counting as follows; one walk-in clinic GP stared at me when I mentioned a dopamine deficiency, another GP flat out said "I cannot help you" -no discussion, and the urologist avoided any discourse when I mentioned this. AND I find out recently that dopamine deficiency is implicated in bladder and urological problems). Not forgetting during the 1996-2001 depression and dysfunction years, three shrinks and one neurologist (count=4 again) blew me off about not having ADD, a dopamine deficiency problem by definition. And too, I had had done prior homework by studying the clinical text and told them exactly the symptoms I had that supported my determination. So here we go again; climb that dopamine deficiency research wall and get blown off by supposed medical professionals. When does this insane bullshit ever end? Though I suppose when one paints the larger picture of worldwide street/addiction drug abuse there sits behind it dopamine deficiency problems. And one can be sure the perps are fully aware of this rich research (as they see it) field.

The naturopath also got onto the topic of "not feeling like I am being maligned or singled out for adverse experiences", all without me telling her anything about the ongoing harassment. More ridiculous farce at times. Added to that, she had never heard of paw-paw, my present #1 herbal that seems to be helping to reduce my prostate cancer if PSA numbers can be relied upon.

The perps kept me awake for most of the night last night. As usual, no sleep deprivation effects, a new "feature" since the assholes rounded on me in 04-2002

I see my employer of the last year is changing things up; hiring a full time vineyard manager to run the show and the owners stepping back. Where I fit in is up in the air should the ideal candidate be found. I don't have experience running tractors so I don't count; I am just the manual labor, replaceable by foreign import workers. That is my lot in life since about 2008 when the perps finally allowed me to do farm labor, as who else doesn't care about a six year (perp created) hole in one's resume?

I see my fleece toque (hat) disappeared between here and the sun tanning salon. And what is it about hats that the perps need to attack (hat-attacks)? Since all this harassment started in 04-2002 they constantly move my hat on my head, have it blow off, get knocked off etc. Even the stalker's hats move all by themselves; e.g. slowly slipping down the head of bus passengers for example.

A stop at the convenience store on the way home from the winery. A strange act at the counter, back facing me. A small framed person in blue overalls (same blue as my rain pants that I had been wearing earlier today) with dayglo and reflective strips, a silver fleck motorcycle helmet on and straight blonde hair some 20" below the helmet. In the mind controlled state I took this to be a woman, and lo, once the person turned around, a man. Score another for the perps as they so like to mix male and female imagery and features and have me "get it wrong". Said individual did the loiter at the counter act to slow me up to getting where the Aero bars are, and lo, if he didn't purchase the same item as I did, said the fellow behind the counter. Another copy cat act, this time over a chocolate bar for crissakes. I presume he was the driver of the silver colored motor scooter that was parked outside.

Wednesday, the last week of this odious winery gig, with the perps threatening to make it worse in some way. More planted confusion, fuckups, misperceptions perhaps. Keeping me in the F of FUD for sure. I have been cleaning the grape processing equipment now for three days, and some more tomorrow.

The New Zealand girl's last day is tomorrow, so perhaps Friday I will be carrying her load and that will be a disaster as she knows her stuff and has been doing so competently for the last 6 weeks. As for me, the perps won't let me run a pump or hook up a hose without fucking up; either the fittings don't fit or I hook up the wrong tank etc. Obviously winery work isn't for me when the perps severely downgrade one's abilities when working at a new winery.

Then this perverse after work vineyard visit; a dingy dusk visit (at 1600h) that then became dark. Then a quasi-tasting in the vineyard office. Some drama added when one of my work colleagues drove off the road to investigate a low oil light problem and hung her car up on a deep ditch edge. Two of the winery staff went out later and pulled her vehicle out of danger with a pickup truck and drove it to where were gathered. I assume someone else gave her a ride to the office, though that part wasn't explained. Anyhow, this apres-work red wine tasting continued in this small room in the vineyard building until 1800h, when I had finished work at 1530h. It wasn't until 1900h until I got home. Nice wine my employer makes though, as it was the first I have tasted.

I suppose in hindsight, the above vineyard visit and drinking of the wine from that same vineyard must of been some kind of energetic testing between the two; that is the soil that grew the grapes and the wine that was made from it. The wine consumption at the very location the harvest party was scheduled two days later for all the vineyard pickers and the winery workers, save me. That is to say, it seems the "vibe" between the soil, grapes (weeks of prior processing and handling), and the derived wine from the 2013 vintage was being tested on me in advance of all the others who were (or are) part of this whole harvest. And at this very location. And I suppose, to attempt to replicate said "vibe" from this nonconsensual subject (me) and detect it in others at the harvest party in two days time. Speculation of course, but as "earth energies" seem to be so important to the perps, vis a vis food and beverages, they appear to want to expand their discoveries about me to a larger cohort, and ultimately, the entire animal population IMHO. As to what the objective is I don't know, but would entertain what others suggest.

Thursday, my second to last day of work at this winery, and not unexpected as I was hired as a harvest hand, aka, harvest cellar worker. It was expected to be a 6 to 8 week gig, and this is week 8. Why I had to tell the boss man that I was done last week is beyond me, as why didn't he tell me what would be going on since the end of harvest last week is beyond me. (I start a two week gig next week). A harvest party at the above mentioned vineyard office tomorrow, but I won't go. Too far and stuck in the dark in the vineyard with either the French speaking co-workers I know, and the picking crew whom I don't know, just doesn't grab me. And I am feeling disenfranchised all round anyhow, and these early dusk onsets of winter just dull me out and make me want to crawl into bed.

More grape processing equipment cleaning today, then barrel batonnage, the stirring of the lees (sediment) in the barrels with a special tool that has chain on it that disturbs the sediment. Easier said than done, as the barrels are on racks, five high, and getting the tool in from the side when there is another barrel beside and above it without dragging the tool or its chain onto icky surfaces like the barrel racks (paint lifting off the steel) or the ladder (14' platform) takes some doing. And of course, my ever loathsome real-time obstructors make sure the tool hangs up and that it is much more difficult to deal with than otherwise. Plus they screw with my finger control and especially like to freeze my thumb just when I want to use it. All to increase awkwardness and to serve as a ongoing source of infuriation. (Not loudly expressed of course, co-workers and all). The perps went all out after lunch, which fits their normal schedule of pissing me off all the more after food consumption. All those digestion changes to body energy I suppose, not to mention food colors and composition. And of course, the extra and nominal visits by other work colleagues for trivial or silly reasons.

And what is it about working on wine barrels that interests the perps so much? Over the past three weeks they pulled two all-facility fire alarms both within a few minutes of me starting on barrel battonage work.

Last day at the winery, and the perps had me in fear it was going to be another day of hell, now that the New Zealand girl has gone. It didn't turn out that way thankfully, and they brought in one of the vineyard guys to do winery work. I worked on barrel battonage (stirring the lees) some 12' up a step ladder (five barrels high), then onto open barrel pilage, then power washing in the winery on the tanks which were grimy behind. That took care of the day, and I didn't go to the harvest party afterward and so I had an evening to myself.

That meant getting the laundry done, or so I thought. It was mostly done, save the three items that got white grease marks on them, another perp touch I have come to find.

Saturday, and a day of incremental fuckery; they were all over me after I cashed my last paycheck  today, and then kept it up by heavy gangstalking for the two places I visited afterwards.

They screwed me into a late start in the day, having me get up at 1000h for a 11 hour sleep. I didn't need any more than 8 hours, but someone decided otherwise. This strange pattern of getting up late on weekends just pisses me off as of course by the time I get out and about it is at least 1100h, and every place is choked thick with gangstalking action. I want to do my shopping early or late, and they know that, and do their best to screw me out of that useful habit.

Then to deal with the grease marked clothing; the varsol took three store visits to find. Then getting the varsol smell out became a problem, as it defied a washing machine. Then hand washing the garments with dish detergent, and then rinsing in the sink. Then an ersatz clothesline in the fiberglass shower stall to have them drip dry. Who knows what that was all about, but in the least, it was more variations on their senseless and relentless laundry fuckery. A little late in the year to be hauling fibreglass boats around, but fibreglass covered campers are still about.

And what is it about coordinated email non-responses? On Tuesday I sent two emails to different parties on widely different subjects. One to the doctor that once promised a dopamine test and I wanted to follow up. Another to my daughter to borrow a certain CD from the Vancouver library and bring it over at Christmas where we are to meet in Victoria. (So I can copy the files as Amazon wants over $700 for this CD for crissakes). Both haven't replied in three business days, and now four in the case of my daughter. Or at least, it seems coordinated to me, and all the more when it seems that not even a gnat moves in my proximity without perp authorization. Yes, I know that sounds totally paranoiac, but I didn't come to these conclusions all by myself. And the minute I refuse to believe in this, why, some stunt erupts to then confirm just what I didn't want to believe. Thanks a bunch; I cannot be left alone in my beliefs, or even in belief avoidance.

Sunday, and a whole day off of doing reading. First a biography of DVR, the Mayor McDougal Street, an entertaining life of living in the Village of NYC in the 1950-1960's. Then today I was allowed to finally read Non-Motor Symptoms of Parkinson's Disease, edited with separate authors for the 31 chapters. Another perp interest is attempting to derive the "vibe" or whatever it is (psychic transference or connection?) from a  book, in this case, comparing a single author biography to a multi-author (and) edited book. All getting back to their epistemology objectives, as to where information comes from and is it "tagged" with some kind of quantum information properties they are attempting to remotely detect. All speculation again of course, but they have a considerable interest in where I get my information from and take great pains to elicit this from me at select moments in the select context of where and in association with whom.

[updated this paragraph 06-12-2016]
An idle web browse turned up this PoS from the NY Times, ("United States of Paranoia: They See Gangs of Stalkers", detailing Timothy Trespas' TI travails) by Mike McPhate. (Why didn't they just dust off the 11-12-2008 hit piece, "Sharing their Demons on the Web", by Sarah Kershaw, who interviewed me for an hour?)  Objectivity in the mainstream press? Forget it. And if thousands of TI's have similar stories from all walks of life, including practicing medical physicians, how on earth can this be considered delusional? And to insinuate that the internet contributes to the "problem" is preposterous; and they call that journalism for crissakes. It is the shrinks, and amateur shrinks (aka psychologists) and other denial-detritus that they quote, that have the problem, to the extent they should be relegated to the Liar's Club. (Or else they are paid-for shills). And the NY (Some) Times can be assigned as the NY Hit Piece Times as far as I am concerned. Or perhaps more broadly, the NY Status Quo Post. Speaking of which, the 2008 piece has been re-edited as I don't see any reference to me, not by name, but to the experiences I related to the author.

And for the record, two shrinks say I am being harassed, as I do. And furthermore, delusional's stories begin to logically break down and don't make any sense. Not to mention become conflated with other notions of military research, aliens (both possible), NWO, and the larger doomer perspective. (And I refuse to use the "conspiracist" term, misleading in the extreme). I am not trashing these larger perspectives just to be clear, as they may well be correct in the main. All I am saying is that day-day harassment (in all its conventional and unconventional forms), targeted abuse and gangstalking is the reality of TI's. As to who, why, and how it is delivered we do not know, and it is speculation. And of course the NY Times conflates the speculative elements to add a more discrediting flavor to their article (aka hit piece). Stick to objective journalism, and I might buy your rag sometimes.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Buzzing Around Me Like Flies

Raining today, and no picking. I didn't know for sure at first so I was cleaning the grape processing equipment anyhow, which I routinely do every before each day. The winemaker boss man didn't say anything, so I assumed I was doing the right thing. As it "happened" four bins came in, and on top of the 2 bins we had, it was sufficient.

The Quebequois couple I regularly work with didn't come in, by arrangement with the winemaker, so it was all up to me to get the conveyor, de-stemmer, crusher and must pump sanitized and ready. (Normally, they do the latter two, and I clean the former two devices). Once done, and in consultation with the to-be manager in 2017, I was to sanitize a particular tank. I installed the spray ball on top when on the catwalk and noted that there was a thin layer of wine on the bottom of the tank. Once back down I cracked the valve a little, but there was no wine flow. I began to open the man-way and some wine came out. I closed it up, though confused as to why anyone would leave a skiff of wine in a tank. I asked around, and was told it was OK to drain it. I began to do so, but some one else came and phoned the winemaker for advice. He conveyed that it was good wine but since it had already been let out, just to leave it run. I thought this was inexplicable at the time, but I followed his instruction, and proceeded to sanitize the tank.

Once the winemaker came back I caught shit for letting the small amount of wine out of the tank. Like WTF; it could of been recovered if I had been given the direction to do so. Another WTF; the to-be-manger was on the phone to the winemaker minutes beforehand as to elicit direction to give to me. Another WTF; what was a 1/2" of wine sitting in the 87hL tank (8' diameter) for? (Asking for oxidation, if nothing else). Anyhow, the whole deal seemed like a total set-up to give me shit. This, IMHO, starting with the absence of the Quebequois couple who always looked after prior tank sanitization for the last 5 weeks, and so it goes. And what is it about these "catch shit" set-ups, at least the third of this winery gig of 6 weeks now, that seems so important for the perps?

Anyhow, this dysfunctional day continued until late afternoon when the French guys finally helped out with the fork-lifting of grape bins, and them finding out what the additions were as the tank gets filled. The winemaker isn't into personnel management, and it showed in spades today. Then and there I decided I needed to exit this place ASAP; these "catch shit" set-ups, letting me "spin in the wind" (do-squat) of no work direction or oversight, and the regular chaotic work place.

Co-workers buzzing around me all day at work. what is the deal? Is it that I started at 0800h instead of my usual 1100h? No idea, but when they put on two ambulances (in opposite directions) on the highway as vehicular gangtalking coverage during my 30 min. commute, something big is up. Neither was in an emergency, there were no prior accidents, so both were just cruising around. I don't know what the deal is about their activities, but the inordinate number of ambulances that need to cover me is just ridiculous.

Another semi-deranged behavior by the above mentioned cellar hand that misguided me on the tank cleaning mentioned above. He was running a pump near the grape receiving equipment which needs four electrical outlets, 3x480v and one 600v. Needing these outlets creates problems with coordination with other workers as they need the same outlets for the pumps to do pump-overs of the wine in the tanks. Said cellar hand had his pump running nearby and I didn't perturb it any, and I never do. He grabs the 480v cord I had laid out and  said he needed an outlet for the pump and I said he already had one, which was obvious. I asked him if he needed another outlet and he said he didn't, but continued to wrap up  the power cords that I had laid out minutes previously. I didn't say anything more, as it seemed he didn't want to translate  (or explain) just what he was doing and what for. Anyhow, I got onto a few other things and then later asked him where he put the power cord and he said on the grape receiving equipment, so obviously he didn't need it. I picked up the cord and set up the equipment, still respecting his use of the pump as it was still running. So what was that all about? This guy intervenes and undoes my work, for no seeming reason and no listening to any logic that I provided. I call it semi-deranged, if I don't call it perp obstruction.

Above mentioned cellar hand also pulled this same stunt about two weeks ago; the conveyor was plugged into this panel for cleaning in the morning, and he unplugs it, wraps up the cord and lays it down on the floor and then walks off. (I "happened" to see him do this from the other side of the grape receiving equipment some 25' away).  I assumed he needed the outlet so I got onto something else for five minutes. I later see the cord still sitting on the floor, and plugged it in, and he didn't need the outlet at all. So what is it about plugging in, or out, power cords that so interests the perps that they send in this sabotage artist in twice to unplug my cord? And the latter incident mentioned above, where he seemed impervious to reason?

I don't know, but one can also say ditto to joining hoses together, or to pumps and tanks. And ditto for attaching nuts to bolts and the rest of the fuckery that goes down when I assemble of disassemble objects.

This same guy asks me to hose down some wine lees on the floor as I was nearby with a hose in hand and so I immediately oblige. Some 10 seconds into this, he grabs the hose from my hand and then proceeds to do the hose down, and a shitty job at that as it was incomplete. More semi-deranged behavior from this individual. He must be a perp operative to act so weird and not be concerned as to how is is cumulatively perceived. Not to mention the ridiculous top-knot (not quite a man bun) hair style he wears.

A leg wax scheduled tomorrow, but no prior notice of appointment when they routinely do so all the time. Have we not encountered appointment games before? Wrong times, wrong week written into diary and then "detected" in time, placing an appointment sticker from the doctor's office in my diary and lo, if they don't change the date on me so I have this obstructing (and useless) sticker covering up the date, etc. So what is it about perp fuckery that they need to piss with appointments, save the content/exchange, in all its myriad trivia? Don't know, but it has long been noted, and accelerated fuckery since the perp sickos went berserk/overt on me in 04-2002.

Worked 15 hours yesterday to see the last of the grape harvest through; that is, attend to the "receiving" of de-stemming, crushing and pumping to the tank. Plus all the prior and subsequent equipment cleaning. Next week will be different, but after 11-16-2016 per above, when there was screw all to do because of no (or limited) picking that day, I am not too optimistic. The perps like to have me "spin in the wind" and have no-work periods at work while everyone else has their heads down doing other things and the boss man is functionally AWOL.

Anyhow, I have a new short term job starting next week; even if only for two weeks it gives me the excuse to get out from the harassment and deranged co-worker behavior over winery work. That would additional to perp harassment when they scramble my head over operating equipment I know how to operate, pumps, fork lifts (when I was allowed), and anything else. Not to mention a few set ups like the one mentioned above.

The wonderful Quebequois couple I worked with for the last 6 weeks had their last work day. And lo, sometime around 2200h, another Quebequois couple "arrives" who seem to be their replacements. Tres bizarre (en francais) to say the least; there wasn't any legit work for them to do as we were in deep on the grape processing, and it seems awfully strange to have a couple replace a couple as work crew and start in the last hours of a very late Friday. The Quebequois component isn't too odd in that the winery is owned by a French company and the personnel are nearly all French speaking. And the three French (from France) young vineyard guys will be now freed up too.

I gave the option for the boss man if he wanted me for next week and he said yes, so I am mystified as to how all this is going down. Perhaps they want me for "exposure" to the new couple as they settle into their new job. I get "shopped out" as mentioned, aka, "victim touring" in my parlance. Or perhaps a final week of hell to convince me that working in commercial wineries is not in the cards and that I am to stick with vineyards.

Speaking of victim touring, they put on a 250+lb fat man in coveralls wandering into view while I was on the conveyor and grape sorting. Said man was doing his regular duty as a building facilities technician, but he sure got my attention as I was deep into grape processing. (The building section is leased to the owner of the much larger facility, so their staff do regular service inspections). There is no question as part of the Unfavored freakshow that the perps like to put fat folk on or around me, but this time I seemed to have a small startled reaction. All to elicit my abreaction responses I assume, from the days they may have abused me aged 2 to 5 when they deleted my recall somehow. As mentioned many times on this blog, I was forming long term memories at aged two, and suddenly only at age 5, with some minor exceptions. Certainly no abusive episodes are recalled, but not recalling where I lived for those years is mighty peculiar to say the least.

Speaking of service inspections, the asshole who moved the ladder I was on (a wheeled version that was in locked down position) last week also "happened" to cruise by and mentioned that he might of not apologized for moving the ladder. I gave him a lame "thanks", when I should of reamed his ass. He didn't apologize at the time, but just hung around avoiding my intense stare. Why he didn't apologize then for such an egregious safety intrusion I have no idea, let alone senselessly loitering afterward can only be attributed to this nonstop perp perversity managed abuse-athon that I live in (IMHO). As it turned out, the ladder moving culprit was a negro, something I didn't detect until today for all the hair and beard netting wear the building lessor staff wear.

Sunday, and in typical perp fuckery for a day off, they had me sleep into 1000h all to punch a hole in my day. This constant battle with them over getting up early to have more free time is yet another distinguishing feature of this micro managed fuckery. Even when starting work at 1100h they would have me get up at 0830h over the past 6 weeks or so all to minimize my free time before setting off to work at 1030h.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

Ladder Larks

Sunday, a day off, and in the new format of not putting down jottings during the week, here I go. That is, the perps have decided to manage me in exquisite detail, more than micro-manage even, and screw any routine of mine no matter how small. Especially those routines that work reasonably well.

An example would be keeping track of my revenues and expenses in Quicken, and looking at the monthly reports. Often which would prod me into action to spend less on such and such, and guide my financial behavior. And too, reconciling it and keeping track of my bank account. Now, all that has devolved since 10-2015, and I don't keep on this any more, which just pisses me off. I do look at my bank account monthly to pay bills, but it would seem that I am not allowed to keep on top of the details of where money comes and goes. Any sudden behavior changes are automatically ascribed to the perps who I have come to find can remotely influence all neural activity. As strange and invasive at it seems, it is a reality for me in these imposed circumstances. Not unlike other TI's, marginalized desperadoes of no choice.

And what is the ongoing and utterly ridiculous obsession of the perps over ladders of all description? This was immediately apparent in the year they went berserk/overt on me 04-2002, when they made their presence loud and clear in an opening apartment invasion of considerable unconventional methods. And I have been run and ruined since, not to mention constantly abused and harassed. Infuriating me is their first and best move it seems.

Back to ladders; since they went berserk/overt they have paraded ladders on pickup trucks and vans, aka, the Ladder Patrol, around me everywhere in traffic. Sometimes running three or four vehicles in succession, often with different ladder orientations; on pickup truck racks where the ladder is horizontal, propped up the the forward rack (and wedged where the tailgate meets the box bed), at a 30 degree angle or so to the road surface, and the inevitable stacks of ladders on trades vans. I have never seen so many ladders in motion all my life in those heavy vehicular gangstalking years, 2002 to mid-2006 until they financial screwed me out of me owning a vehicle. Mind you, the Ladder Patrol didn't give up, it is just that they needed less of them as I was walking mostly, save public transit trips. In the latter case, the on board freak show rotation caught my attention more than what was outside.

So it was last week when at work in the winery when I was up a particular kind of ladder that has steps with side rails, and is mobile with four wheels and a mechanism to lift two of the wheels at the entry to stabilize it so one can climb the steps. So here was I up 14' on the top step attending to barrel stirring, and this building maintenance schmo release the wheels and starts moving the ladder. Like WTF; I yelled down below to tell him that I was on it, and he resets the wheels down and doesn't bother with an apology, or even look up as to what damage he may have done. (Or anything that may be coming down on him; I had a small bucket of cleaning solution up there). So, I called down, why did you move the ladder? And he says, he wanted to access the air conditioner that was behind, it, and I said, "and without looking?". Still he doesn't make eye contact, or in any way appear to atone for this utterly irresponsible safety violation (IMHO).

After this, and still up the ladder, he still hangs around, even though he wasn't part of the regular winery crew. The boss man comes up the ladder, looking sideways curiously (who does that normally), and when at at the top he asks me if everything was OK. I say it is now, but not when the mofo below was moving the ladder. He appears to understand and I tell him that I am finishing up, and he goes back down. As do I in a few minutes. The ladder moving mofo is still hanging around and finally gets to his air conditioner, and still does nothing to atone for his outrageous safety violation. Like WTF; what was normal about any of anyone else's behavior in all of this?

I use a 7' step ladder each day at the winery, about 2x per day to attend to cleaning of the taller equipment that we use. There is no end of buzzing around me before, during and returning the ladder so say the least. Why, they even keep the door open for me when I pack it out. How civil.

Moving on from ladders, there the matter of hose fittings that is a huge deal for the perps. Not only do they often not fit when they should, but the perps constantly scramble me as to which way to turn them, being DIN threaded fittings. Of course I know which way to turn a nut or threaded object, close to 55 years now, and lo, if the assholes don't dither me when undertaking this basic winery function of joining hoses, some 2" ID. And of course I deal with water hoses too, 1" diameter or so. And too, there are some fittings that adapt between the two of them. In the aid of this situation, I ordered a part from the destemmer manufacturer to adapt a European tapered fitting to the North American NPT, as the winemaker wasn't too engaged in getting the part. And lo, two days ago, two independent delivery personnel arrive together through the door, and I was 30' away. One was was bearing a new 1" hose line (100' or so) that the winemaker ordered, and the other was the Fedex guy delivering the destemmer adapter part in a 8"x6" envelope. Once I later got the adapter fitting on the destemmer, it was that same water hose that I connected to it, as it has an internal sprinkler cleaning system. What an astonishing coincidence; both these new connectable items arriving in the hands of two independent individuals who arrived in the building at the same time. Hats off to ECCO, the Earth Coincidence Control Organization, though the obviousness was over the top IMHO.

A solid morning of imposed mental fuckery this morning (e.g fittings that don't fit) all over setting up a pump, sanitizing the hoses and doing barrel filling. And a few of these in front of the boss man, though he fucked me up in his ever hyper "helping", though he did apologize for it. OK; I get it, straight from the perps- full time commercial winery work is not in my vocational future. Back to the vineyard as soon as I can, but that won't be for a few months, and isn't an entirely fuck-up free activity as I have come to know all too well. All I have to do is gracefully exit from this winery job, and hopefully in a week or so when the harvest is done.

Enough for a post I figure, and to keep my Sunday posting routine. (And which was screwed up due to being out of town last week and then harvest party Sunday night).

Friday, November 11, 2016

Pit Lamping Redux

And what is it about pit-lamping, (shining lights in the face of the victim), that is so important of late? Not to mention the increased (3x pre-04-2002 normal) "stray" reflections that find their into my face.

And I suppose, driving at night as I do for the duration of this winery job for 6 weeks is just the thing, though I suppose this wouldn't be "pit-lamping" as such as there is the excuse it is a public roadway. But most often the oncoming vehicles of differing headlight types, come in in threes. And at the same location several days in succession, e.g. at road bends, two lane merges into a single lane.

And then pit-lamping me twice in two days while eating lunch in my car at work. Ditto for making said lunch while in my residence and then a pickup truck "happens" to have arrived outside and parks to ensure their headlights are pointed through the chain link gate, through my window and onto me in the kitchen area. Also two days in succession. And quickly dealt with by going to the window and closing the venetian blinds.

An additional stunt is when I arrive at my residence after a 30 minute night time drive, (again, pit lamping of a kind with the oncoming road traffic), the assholes extend this lunacy by having me fumble my keys at the locked gate, and with my key fob LED flashlight, they make sure to extend my egress and too, ensure that the flashlight also gets fumbled and flashes into my face.

A visit to the wretched urologist. Though, the PSA test is trending the right direction, as I am now 4.3 when below 4.5 is normal. (in the US and other places, 4.0 or less is normal). The test is trending the right way, as I was 5.9 in 05-2016. Still, it is unlikely to be the end of my cancer, so on with more expensive supplements, and upping the ante with various cleanses etc.

Said urologist doesn't make any mention that my supplements might actually be working, citing "normal fluctuation". And of course he doesn't ask what supplements I might be taking, and if I feel they are working etc. He just doesn't want to know.

And more on the doesn't-want-to-know (or help) front; I mentioned the urination urgency problem came back in 09-2016, and he doesn't ask about it or even offer any advice. How ridiculous is that? Almost as ridiculous at the time he had his secretary phone me after two of his Rx medications didn't solve the urination urgency problem in early 2015, and she said (on his behalf) to go to my GP. As in (an all time) WTF; I present with an urology problem and the urologist sends me to my GP.

Said urologist further distinguished himself today after I asked for a referral to the Cancer Treatment center in Kelowna, by saying that he encouraged it "along the lines of what we talked about last visit". What utter bullshit; we did not have any conversation about this, and I only subsequently found out this option about this from elsewhere. Elsewhere was the Okanagan Prostate Support Group in Kelowna, something else the wretched urologist "happened" not to tell me about.

Another interesting moment with the urologist was when somehow the topic got onto me saying that conventional medicine is at a dead end in thinking that cancer is a somatic cell mutation problem. I got the intimidative, "You mean to say that the medical community in all the hundreds of millions of dollars of research a year (in Canada) has got it wrong?" I mentioned that Royal Rife had cancer beaten in the 1930's, and all 44 of the associated doctors who worked with his equipment and methods had a banquet to celebrate the end of cancer. A year later, the AMA beat up on Royal Rife and threatened the supporting doctors and that was the end of that. An incremental world atrocity, right here in America. Anyhow, the upshot was that the urologist isn't much of an actor, and there were all manner of tells to roundly indicate this whole skit was either rehearsed ahead of time or that he knew he was bare-faced lying. Same difference.

A flight at 0645h from Kelowna, non stop to Victoria. Which meant getting up at 0330h and driving there. The airport security confiscated my keychain which had a 1" knife blade on it that I entirely "forgot" about it. Funny, they missed it before. But, they allow 6" scissors, so what it the deal, and any schmo can modify scissor blades to make them lethal and because the metal is overlapped when closed, the security folks would not pick this up on their scanner anyhow. Go figure. (And of course the timing was such that I didn't have sufficient time to take the keychain penknife back to my vehicle).

A half full Q400 flight, maybe an 80 place aircraft. But why this cluster (of 20) around me in the rear of the aircraft, save the seat beside me and the seat opposite? And in keeping with the ongoing multiracial gangstalking show, they put the obligatory negro stalker, one seat ahead and on the opposite side. Then a negro aircraft person when we landed. The last flight I took they put on a negro flight attendant.

A major piss off stunt from two years ago was when my perp-abetting mother and ex took me to the airport and because there was extra time, they offered me some breakfast. And lo, 20 minutes later there was a horrendous line up at security. I had to jump the line to get to the front and get to the gate, and have my baggage put back on (the gate attendant said).

A group funeral at the care home, my father included in the those that died in October. I was the only one wearing a suit of some 20 males of 40 people. I find that strange, but perhaps dress codes have accelerated downwards, though it would be my first funeral in 15 years or so.

A First Feral Family visit a nearby Marks store after the funeral, as my brother owns two in another city, and my mother was chasing a sale item. And lo, if there wasn't a two fire truck "event" at the supermarket in the Broadmead Plaza (40 stores or so) with all the staff mustered near where we needed to park. That means, flashing red emergency lights etc.

My out-of-town (Victoria) brother, sister-in-law and niece took the same airline and flight (and same embarkation city) as I did, offset by a day, arriving and leaving a day earlier than I did. Which might mean something in this whole coincidence controlled world that I inhabit, and not out of choice.

I met up with the farm worker friend at MacDo's, and lo, if there wasn't some negro she knew but didn't explain. I hadn't visited one for a decade or more, since my young daughter's infatuation with the place.

No emailed boarding pass that the airline routinely does, and did for my outbound flight, so I phone and they say it is the time change; how lame is that, so I log onto the airline's web site and get my boarding pass. This constant game of fuckery as to where and how I obtain information, and this is just one more. In the some 9 or so return flights I made over the last four years, this is the first time they somehow "screwed up" in their normally efficient operations.

A flight back, negro couple two across the aisle and one seat ahead; And it was a negro couple, with her hair bun perched just above the seat back. To get into lead-ahead gangstalking position after exiting the aircraft they dogged me at the exit ramp doing a dip shit confusion routine so they could precede me. Then when I can, I bail out the exit outside, and lo, if they didn't do the same thing 120', paralleling me through the building.
Don't ask me what the deal is about the perps putting on female (mostly) hair buns, save what they allowed me to know, was that at alien sites (apparently), the bun wearing females are considered to be the "breeders". Yes, there is an alien motif component to all this, recessed chins and skin headed males also predominantly featuring in the Unfavored stalker features demographic. I haven't consigned hair buns, except on males, to the Unfavored categories, but it is interesting that this hair feature keeps getting prominence in this gangstalking show.

And if it wasn't enough from this 3 day visit to the First Feral Family to eat too much dairy, glutenous and sugared foods, why, they add more for my return flight. I was given 5lb of pine mushrooms (said to be contraindicated for cancer), and a 1lb ball of cheese my mother bought in Amsterdam. She "happened" to be on a week long junket in Europe when my father died; another piece of artful perp timing, though to what end I have no idea, but they definitely wanted her elsewhere for the termination (IMHO) event. And all the more curious that she didn't visit her sister in the UK, and in fact, didn't go there at all, only continental Europe.

Sunday that I returned, a harvest party; many more things I should not eat or drink; alcohol, doughnuts etc. All was well, and I met up with my vineyard employers of the last two years. As far as i know, I am to return to work there, but she wasn't committal like last year when she had me lined up to return at the end of the season in September. She doesn't leave anything to chance, especially vineyard labor. I wonder what is up.

And more memory fuck games while there, and too, imbalancing games in the guise of being drunk, which I wasn't. Incautious alcohol consumption tho', another anomalous behavior trait.

And the clocks return to standard time; and what is it about time changes that invokes predictable hassle over this again; the manual has gone missing again, and I cannot get the time reset via online manuals. This same shit went on year after year, when I had the manual but "somehow" it didn't work. I took it to the watchmaker each time, and he did the same thing I did, except it worked for him. Back to these electronic devices fuckery again. watches seem to be a particular "problem" for the perps, killing two steel mesh metal banded watches early in the harassment onset of 2002. They just did not want me to have a steel mesh banded watch. Now, it is a rubber banded watch, a digital one at that. Just one more insane pissing match with the assholes who run/ruin my existence.

Anyhow, I am five days late getting this out due to late work days and the usual forced late sleeps in the morning with added errands as well.