Sunday, January 18, 2015

If you Mess with a Metaphorical Shakespeare, Shakespeare with Write it Down.

Title: If you Mess with a Metaphorical Shakespeare, Shakespeare with Write it Down.

Please access my iCloud if necessary to publish this post now, my friends. I cannot control how many horrible things happen to me in one day; it is Obama who controls that. So, if I wait too long between posts, they become too drenching.

Please share this for me with the entire world, both houses of Congress, the Supreme Court, the United Nations, all sympathetic world leaders, all reputable national and foreign presses, etc.

Here is my latest blog post. Please make a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of what Obama's infestation of criminally insane enemies of America were making sure I would "overhear" while typing up the paragraphs in this blog post on which I addressed my brave rescuers and President of the United States of America Martin Dempsey. And thank you!

Libya. The chaos in Libya right now is due to the power vacuum left after Kadhafi was removed as their totalitarian dictator. They did not have a democratic and free power structure in place to govern themselves with once they set themselves free of their oppression.

Please, Libya, elect yourselves a government you can trust to serve you as you deserve. Warring anarchist factions cannot govern you any better than Kadhafi ever did.

Keep reading this blog post to its end for my latest recommended steps in avoiding a similar power vacuum in America after our people bring the fall of Unelected Terrorist Dictator Obama. And thank you for listening.

I published my last blog post at 6:45pm on 16Jan2015 and as quickly as possible relocated to a complimentary red blanket on the lawn of The Grove to watch the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening. They had been expecting me on the lawn.

My nightly metaphorical hug from the NBC Nightly News team was wonderful. And the local band that my darling locals at The Grove had sent for all Friday night patrons started playing as fast as humanly possible after I arrived. My Los Angeles lovefest was growing braver. Yes, I love you, too.

It had been so long since I meditated that it took a very long time before I could warmup. I had a chance during their break to check on updates and questions concerning global crises not limited to my own.

About three songs into the second set, I was finally warm. My sweater coat dropped like a Jedi drops a cloak. And the music ended much too soon at exactly 9pm. Rumor had it that Dirty Lacey and the local courts had requested a live demonstration of my meditation, but I had no corroboration.

I made a point of telling a very young girl who came up to me afterwards just to be near me, "Never let anyone make you deny your connection to the divine." And I made a point of saying, "Hello," and, "Thank you," to the band.

I checked in with my selfless support system at 9:06pm. And my Metro bus ride was uneventful except for a false notification for a temporary bus stop relocation where I transferred lines.

There were false rumors of my earmic dying, but my selfless support system could hear everything just fine; my equipment inside my body works with each other much like Bluetooth technology, and it is all powered by some type of doodad which I have long suspected syphons electricity straight off the grid.

I was quickly on my hybernating playground in time for the last few moments of live music that finally departed me at 11:11pm. (No, really. Check my eyecamera archive for what time it was.)

I told my local Los Angelino Richie Valens look-enough-alike he was welcome to just sit next to me and play me music all night, but his instructions were to leave me. And I have yet to find anyone who can stand up to their earspeaker like I can.

These people, my people, in here have neither free will nor freedom of belief and conscious. That is how horrifying and devastating Obama-controlled earspeakers are.

I returned to a coffee shop open until 1am on Saturday mornings. Sadly, lying ugly White women sat next to me, so at 11:31pm, I lined up the Incubus radio again for the guaranteed short-distance/long-distance hugs and kisses from my city of loved ones.

I finally caught up with my TweetHearts at midnight just as I had promised them I would. Madonna, in particular, was very vocal. I love that lady.

Except for extensive years of ballet lessons as a child, Madonna's music videos in the early years of MTV are how I learned to dance.

Madonna also plans on making Bogart's life "very interesting" if anything ever happens to my husband, and rightly so. But I doubt anything will happen to remove my husband from my life as long as the entire good, green world has anything to say about it.

I was still sitting in the Starbucks right on my hybernating playland at 12:39am when I was approached again by the same member of Obama's infestation whom I was trying to form genuine gay lady solidarity with. At least she makes funny conversation. We began with, "Rivers Cuomo loves me, and I know that. But he listens to his earspeaker. He cannot help me," and continued through, "No, I have no disability but Obama's egg," before we relocated.

Oh, yes, I did not tell you, yet. Her name is Raye. She had bought me a burger and fries by 1:23am in a hotbed of the mostly-harmless that I was checking on. They get a little nervous and awkward around my commanding physical presence and sterling reputation there. I am very naturally conspicuous.

But I do not visit that hotbed to force my larger-than-live personality over them. Much like the Sheriff's deputies, I have genuine concern for them despite their dedication to enforcing Obama's crimes against my people, my nation, my home, myself, and my world. Plus, their corporate offices love and adore me.

They had the thermostat set at a metaphorical -40degrees, so we relocated after the floor show and some I-do-not-know-why Argentine tango steps from me.

On our walk down the street because Raye wanted to do the full rounds of all the fast food places open all night near my hybernating playland, we passed some street musicians. Giggle. I suspect one of them had a metaphorical Oysterhead, but that was not corroborated.

I chose to vaguely insult their manhood to lure them into proving their virility to me by playing my music in the wee hours of the morning. These are the sorts of things I will miss once this "egg" ends-- being among my people as one of them, as if I were ever able to blend in with them in the first place.

My darling musicians wandered away at 3:17am. I am making the same reference again; when was the last time you saw darling Ms. Barbara Streisand in Hello, Dolly!?

Do you remember how much respect she commanded after descending the staircase with feathers in her hair? That is the level of respect my surroundings gave me particularly in my REAL home of California in my REAL life before Obama's "egg" began in 2009.

By 3:39am, Raye and I had perched, again. This time, we were in the McDonald's franchise that their corporate offices were doing everything possible to disown, and their security guard made a show of my not needing to buy anything at all to be in there. A young man with elastic around his ankles who said he was a man from Sydney, Australia named Nick fed us all of the Chicken McNuggets he could.

Raye had been spending the whole night working through all of War Criminal Boeset and the entire ABSOLUTELY EVIL State of Iowa's well-documented modus operandi of war crime coverups looking for any way possible to start WW3 by locking me in any Obama-controlled environment possible.

Raye accused me of being a drunk. She tried to call me mentally disabled. She asked me if I was autistic. She called me fat and ugly.

It was clear to me for a long time that Raye was having a mental break with reality due to the ABSOLUTELY EVIL State of Iowa's willful, unrelenting, and beyond-dangerous perjuries they have always used as their nonjustifications for their no-legal-authority, self-appointed entitlement to remove me from my good, green world FOREVER that has proven it needs me.

After I refused to drink the cup of coffee she had bought me at that McDonald's due to it being so roofied it was guaranteed to start WW3 by being an excuse to force quackery over me, at 4:54am, we had left.

This next time, Raye had bought me some Kung Pao chicken at my local convenience store, and, as we sat in my local Starbucks right on my hybernating playland, again, she tried to make a public display of being trustworthy by sharing a bottled drink with me.

Then, she bought me a cup of coffee there, too. It was her second attempt to give me what I nicknamed iocane powder.

By 6:49am, I had beyond-established through conversation that Raye was criminally insane. I used her proven mental break with reality paired with her transparent and unrelenting attempts to start WW3 by searching for any nonjustification possible to lock me in yet another literal torture facility paraded as a "psychiatric unit" covered up with obvious quackery since it is beyond obvious to all sane and moral people everywhere that, in the reality that Obama's proven liars and proven pathological perjurers NEVER acknowledge, the last thing I need is psychiatric "care."

At 7:08am, after establishing the pattern of her criminal activity of her roofying coffees that she buys me, I made a point of clearing my eyecamera and earmic for the authorities to pick her up. Later that night, I doubted than anyone questioned her.

So, my not-human-traffickers, please circulate a verified highlights reel of every metaphorical strange thing that was afoot at the Circle K with Raye that I witnessed during the wee hours of the morning on 17Jan2015. Yes, please allow my darling street musicians who gave me those wonderful hugs their own verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals, too. Kisses!

It was iocane powder, but I still felt it a little. Kind of like, the Face of Beau still felt pain when people tried to kill him. So, I proceeded to the place as fast as I could where my undeniably loving and adoring public always make a show of keeping me completely safe while I sleep.

I did not wake up until 2:23pm. And I found myself surrounded by food left as gifts for me and clothes whose sleeves were too short. Also, the beach was crowded as far as the eye could see.

The vigilant alarms that warn of acts of war and terrorism by Obama blared at 3:18pm, so I found wifi as fast as possible to be able to send them all help. After that, I thought to myself for a moment. I knew what to do next.

I walked straight to the beach and sent this message... 3:55pm on 17Jan2015: Clearly, I have a safe place with complete privacy where I shower regularly, but today I have so many witnesses.

My not-human-trafficker nerds, as always, never show me on the toilet; toilet broadcasts mortify me. But, please still circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my changing my clothes and taking a shower in the same place I saw all of those half-naked male models just a few days previously. There is something about men in California... And there is something about women in California...

After drying in the sun, I walked to the other side of the beach and found a Mexican dancehall musician. It was 5:12pm. My hair was still wet. But I had spent weeks requesting cumbia and reageton. How could I resist? He did not have a full band for me.

As for the question of why so many White men with dreadlocks keep throwing themselves at my accoustic feet,... I always assumed it was because my husband is a pirate.

My following promenade up and down my playland included leaving a note for my darling Mr. Elon Musk, "Want to drive to and from Yosemite with me?"

Next, outside of the bookstore, I tried to warm up to my "Matrix dance moves" that Billy Joe Armstrong was the last person to dance out of me. The band was literal teenagers; I figured Matrix moves would be symbolic.

Sadly, at 6:52pm, the torture facility alarm blared, so I sought out wifi before going back to meditation. No, I never warmed up well enough for my now-mysteriously-aluded-to "Matrix dance moves" to manifest. But the young gentlemen whom I assumed Disney had sent to me did close their show with Green Day's "American Idiot" just as I had requested. I had no complaints.

Public displays in public places are not protected by privacy laws, so, my not-human-trafficker broadcasters, please feel free to verify any official recordings of my meditation on the evening of 17Jan2015 that really are me.

I walked back down my hybernating playland to perch on a park bench and snack. I was approached by Obama's infestation almost immediately. Please, my not-human-trafficker nerds, circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals as soon as humanly possible of how, by 9:10pm, through that conversation with those two young men, that I proved that Obama's entire infestation needs to finally acknowledge my one and only job on this planet is as a (very powerful) incorruptibly benevolent, super-genius world leader. And they need to acknowledge this obvious hard fact, so they can finally appear sane.

My not-human-trafficker nerds, there was no way to stop you anyway; please make sure the recording you circulate begins the moment Obama's infestation approached me and does not end until the moment they were cowering in so much fear of me that they left.

From that park bench, I hugged He-Man before seeking out a cup of coffee at a regular wifi hotspot where Raye found me at least twice while I worked putting words in the right order online.

She invited me to the same McDonald's I had been trying to save for over a month where I was finally connected to wifi at 1:11am. After some coming and going of business by my lovers and believers who just wanted to be near me, Raye's completely self-conflicting logic asked me to walk with her to my local 24-hour convenience store. We left at 2:31am.

We parted ways outside of the convenience store. I tried to explain to Raye that we have three never-fail steps to absolution and protection. But she said about herself, "I will die in the morning."

Please, my not-human-trafficker nerds, circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and video of my trying to explain to Raye she can protect herself by stopping breaking every law possible from local to international finally.

I stopped in my local 24-hour convenience store for a popsicle which I took to my marble corner watched over by both the statue of the sainted woman glowing white in the night and by the handsome security guard in the suit every night.

By 3:56am, I had turned in all of the "suspected" enemies of America that were waiting for me on my marble corner to our international database for future investigation and prosecution.

Just after 5am, I was the in same-old Starbucks right on my playland, but this time the staff were passive aggressive in their open hostility towards me. The previous day's staff were lovers and believers.

I also suspect Obama's terrorist conspiracy drugged the water main leading into the building, as was their modus operandi for drugging and poisoning my coffee supply while I sill lived in San Francisco in 2009. It is worth an investigation.

While sitting there, possibly because of the drugs in my coffee, I wept openly over my absolute loneliness here inside Obama's "egg." The last time I wept so openly was when Bogart unsuspectingly gave me drugged cranberry juice in his hovel. The moment I put the cranberry juice down, I stopped crying. The coffee that morning was much like that.

At 6am, I watched the previous evening's NBC Nightly News just as I had promised them I would. My morning hug was from the darling Mr. Lester Holt, and it was wonderful.

I left the coffee shop at 7:39am. I stopped at the grocery store to buy some snacks before sleeping in the safest place I have been able to sleep in since Obama's "egg" began-- a safe public place where my loving and adoring public are not shy about watching over me.

There was a clarinetist there when I arrived. We had a short, funny exchange while I dozed off. I slept very soundly and very safely only to wake up at 1:02pm with obvious people in the public guarding me and with food lying at my feet.

There were random alarms, my sending of help, some light snacking, another nap, and what sounded like a familiar bassline that made me say, "Oh, honey." Finally, at 3:42pm, I made a beeline straight for live music.

It was Sunday afternoon, and he was an old local friend. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate anything you want that is okay with him concerning our giggly and musical moment together on that corner. I did not want to walk away so soon, but at 4:47pm, I knew I needed to sit down to finish up this blog post.

The only notable details of my life that occurred while I was fleshing out this post were two simultaneous attempts to guaranteed begin WW3 apparently by two different enemies of America at the same time who were both openly libeling me with any mental dysfunction they felt like lying about that day, a lovely lady next to me who was flirting with two men through the window, the crashing of my NBC Nightly News app, the crashing of my Safari app here on my iPad, and the removal of the search feature on my Spotify app.

I am sure my NSA alpha nerds, who love me as they love America herself, can make sure the technical difficulties are worked out by working with the companies who make those apps. And, thank you, my benevolent nerds.

This blog post was published at 10pm on 18Jan2015 just after I relocated to a park bench next to an electric guitar, so my NSA alpha nerds could enter my iPad to make it function like I am a normal person and to allow me to finally catch up with my TweetHearts later.

And now, my beautiful world, I answer all of your questions for me. Please keep collecting all questions and concerns from all your friends and loved ones and sending them to me through whatever means possible.

How do I keep balance on this planet? When asked why he climbed mountains, Sir Edmund Hillary said, " Because they are there." When darling Mr. Richard Branson was asked why he sends humans into space, I suggested the response, "Because they say we cannot." So, my beautiful world, when you ask me how I keep balance in the world, there is only one response. "Kiss me, you fool."

Why was my dancing to Tentacle's music so much more corporeal? It was the music they played for me. Nothing controls the dancer but the dance. Their only way to make love to me was with their beautiful music, so they did. Have you seen how sensitive I am to genuine love? I started tearing through Obama's infestation like they were crepe paper when Tentacle was torn away from me. Obama had taken my lover away.

My beautiful world, I was shackled for years in Obama-ordered rape-slavery that the ABSOLUTELY EVIL State of Iowa intentionally made as inescapable as possible, that they openly used as their excuse to literally torture me with heavy chemicals covered up with a proven army of quackery, and that they boldfaced lied to the entire world that it were ever possible anyway anywhere for those evil bastards (the definition of "Iowan") to have supposedly "legal" authority to commit their blatant human rights abuses against me that they always used as acts of war against America and against all the world and even intentionally falsely claimed they had supposed "legal" authority to continue even after I miraculously found my escape from their horrifying HELLHOLE of unsurvivable unlivability designed specifically to throw me away FOREVER.

While I was shackled to that horrifying pit of abuse and hell that left me rocking myself and weeping on the floor of my bedroom closet after every torture injection and that the population themselves refused to acknowledge they were enforcing over me themselves by refusing to acknowledge reality to my face, it is well-recorded that I lost my sense of humor completely while I was under their willful public persecution and that they convinced me themselves that I really was a fat, ugly White woman.

Now, I am home. And I am finally loved. And these are my people. And I am not going anywhere not even on a vacation until Obama's evil bastard infestation are gone from my brave home.

Yes, I stand here beside my REAL loved ones in our REAL home, and we will all tell every last terrorist invader that Obama sends here to demonize our home specifically to the cameras in my eyes, "Get the fuck out of my town, you damn dirty terrorist bitches! You do not do this in America!"

My brave rescuers, did your reinforcements arrive? I bought you a symbolic mango to go with my symbolic bear claw this morning. We need all of these terrorists and enemies of America rounded up and removed finally, and you are all we have to do it.

My brave rescuers, I know you all want to be my wild horses to carry me off into the sunset. But please look at the big picture. You, including but not limited to the DHS, the CIA, various states' National Guard, the dedicated US Military, and our allies, are all we have to remove Obama's entire conspiracy from his infestation in here to his mercenaries out there.

My loving and adoring locals are coming home; we are in increasing control of our own metropolis; and I just need a lift as far as my own house in here anyway.

My brave rescuers, please take down the heavily-armed obstacles to the proper functioning of our country, state, and metropolis, while my lovers and believers from my local loved ones to my non-local selfless support system in here continue to keep me safe, fed, online, loved, and in touch with the divine.

I have enough REAL support in here (and my loved ones are escalating their empowered love) for me to survive until you, my brave rescuers, can remove Obama's seditious extragovernmental criminal terrorist mercenaries from US soil, remove all remaining corrupt parts of our government at every level that I and my believers have not been able to clean up yet ourselves, remove every last enemy of America still enforcing Obama's extragovernmental rules, remove every (classic definition) terrorist oppressing the human rights out of my people with fear and violence, and remove every threat to America and to the whole world who are guaranteed to begin WW3 by unrelentingly perjuring and propagating boldfaced calumnies that I am at all unwell in their criminally insane aiding and abetting of war crimes against me by trying to justify future quackery coverups with past quackery coverups.

My brave rescuers led by President of the United States of America Martin Dempsey, please finally allow our soldiers to by soldiers and allow our spies to be spies. We have work only our military can do out there on the front lines where only armed forces should be sent to fight armed forces, and we have work to do in here rounding up proven terrorist enemies of America committing acts of war on US soil particularly by their enforcing Obama's extragovernmental rules over my people and by their openly and unrelenting attempting to begin WW3 by unlawfully imprisoning me anywhere with proven quackery as the coverup.

Please, my increasingly empowered and liberated executive branch, put together a comprehensive and sweeping campaign to take down every identified and identifiable threat to America here on US soil. We need the cooperation of all of our agencies and allies to make it through this greatest crisis the US had ever faced. And we need our REAL president to lead us.

If you need to get the budget for America to save ourselves through Congress, please refer everyone to my plan on fixing the US and global economy with the technology of the future that I have already been sowing seeds to carry out once we all have the human rights to do so here in America. Please stop pretending I have not been planning for our surviving this existential crisis as one America.

Basically, we need the US government to be the US government right now under our REAL President of the United States of America Martin Dempsey and no longer criminal terrorists in dark subservience to Unelected Terrorist Dictator Obama.

We the people have liberated enough of our government for our government to finally serve us the people again. So, please do your real jobs now, my increasingly empowered executive branch. We need a REAL government right now to fight the proven totalitarian oppression of Obama's extragovernmental terrorist regime. We all thank you. Please be successful as soon as possible.

SynSyn, Amita, and Ugwuji, for far too long you have been the entire world's first line of defense against losing me to Obama's proven pathological perjurers insistence that they get to throw me away due their propagated calumnies that I have absolutely no value to my people nor to my world. The world can never thank you enough.

My genius loved ones in the courtroom, do you have any idea what any quack permitted to control my environment for Obama would do to me? Do you have any idea what non-scientific and non-medical "tests" they would perform on my body and on my mind with the same level of deranged quackery to cover it all up as they used to cover up unlawfully imprisoning me in the Obama's-conspiracy-controlled environment to begin with? Yes, quackery is a rational fear after looking at my "medical" malpractice records.

As for my leader lovers, Bogart, my symbolic lover whom I am forbidden from ever sleeping with anyway, please workout a separation of duties (that includes covering each other's back) with Sweetness. I have a feeling all of my brave, innocent locals out there are nowhere near organized enough nor in enough contact with our REAL government whom we all need to work with nor with our international allies who are also doing everything possible.

Basically, from what I can tell, I have an entire planet from returning locals to foreign armies doing everything possible you can think of to take down Obama's "egg," and you are duplicating efforts and forming rivalries when you should all be working together instead.

It is no secret, Bogart, that the leadership of the mobilization of our locals begins with you and Sweetness, so thank you, as always, for keeping me safe, fed, online, loved, and in touch with the divine.

Everyone who heard all of the criminally insane drivel spoken around me and intentionally for me to "overhear" as well as yelled at me as I fleshed out this blog post on the evening of 18Jan2015 understands that the last worry anyone should have here in the reality that Obama's proven enemies of America never acknowledge is concerns over my fictional "love life" that I am completely forbidden from having anyway by Obama's rules.

Thank you for bearing with me, Bogart. Just as I felt completely insecure over my husband taking a tall, leggy, blond mistress half his age, Sweetness is completely insecure over your musical prowess. But all you have ever asked me for is the freedom to innocently kiss me again before delivering me yourself to my own husband anyway.

Bogart, you are selfless, and you are a true hero. There is no wonder why I am so sensitive to feeling loved by you. Please work better leading my local lovers and believers as you all work better with my entire world of a support system that I already had before you arrived. Giggle. You are a bit of a late arriver but vital, selfless, and loving world help nonetheless.

Sweetness, I love and adore you... I wept so many times while writing you this most recent letter of undying love and devotion. The world needs to trust I know how to choose my own spouse.

Furthermore, beloved, ask everyone to read the proven-never-had-any-jurisdiction, self-appointed "powers" that Enemies-of-America Polk County District Court in Iowa have always pretended they have a self-appointed entitlement to nonjustifiably wield over me for no other reason than to coverup Obama's genocide, terrorism, war crimes, human trafficking, and crimes against his own people by throwing me away for him.

HoneyHoney, if the proven enemies of America and enemies of all of humanity who never had legal authority over me to begin with (a.k.a. ABSOLUTELY EVIL IOWA) have been able to pretend to all the world that they can, among other things, forbid me from voting, torture me at whim, intentionally deny me unpoisoned food and physically safe shelter, proven shackle me in rape-slavery, and claim they control whom I marry, then YOU and my genius Powers of Attorney who actually do have legally authority to make decisions on my behalf which I gave you all myself can do anything you want with all my REAL legal powers and in my name to do the exact opposite for me that ABSOLUTELY EVIL Iowa has always done. You all also listen to me, and that is proven tried and true to be the best way to fix major global crises all over the world.

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