Kiss Me, You Fool!

Title: Kiss Me, You Fool!

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. Are people acknowledging my REAL job yet? Have you seen my curriculum vitae? Do you remember how we proved Obama's metaphorical zombie apocalypse is actually Obama's mental health genocide through the diagnosable mental break with reality in almost all of my people? Please reread my 16Oct and 18Oct2014 blog posts about this.

Saudi Arabia. We lost a monarch today. May he be followed by someone at least as understanding as he was. I pray Saudi Arabia's King Abdullah bin Abdulaziz al Saud knew what he meant to me before he left us.

With every way women are traditionally confined in his culture, he looked at me liberating his own women out from under him by screaming at Obama that I deserve human rights and full equality, and the King stood up beside Iran and Israel to fight for me.

I believe our relationship began when I told the Western nations YEARS AGO that we needed to bring peace to Syria before their civil war would engulf the entire region in sectarian violence.

I have been telling everyone everywhere for so long that this entire world needs a peaceful and prosperous Middle East not just because all people everywhere deserve human rights, peace, justice, stability, and an accountable government, but also because if we lost the Middle East to full blown sectarian violence, global conflict might break out.

No one ever listened to my advice on Syria, so the conflict has spawned ISIS and expanded to Lebanon, Iraq, etc. Sigh,... But it did teach the world to listen to me when I give them my logical extrapolations of the future not just my logical interpolations of the present.

I published my last blog post at 11:58pm on 20Jan2015 just before a very delightful conversation with the very protective staff at my local Steak'N'Shake as I asked them to unlock the door to let me out. What darlings!

After pausing for a violin solo from Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade on my way there, I was sitting at a local pizzeria by 1:20am sipping a soda, snacking on a slice, and watching live tennis at the Australian Open.

For some reason, Obama's infestation had shutdown every drinking establishment near my hybernating playland by midnight except for proven and convictable enemies of America. I never drink there anyway. That was the weirdest part.

My not-human-trafficker nerds, please send my legal team my full walk-by of every proven terrorist-run establishment I found along with our evidence that they were committed to roofying and drugging me. And thank you. The only one I think I can save is the Cantina.

Syn, it is obvious by the actual city infrastructure in this city, where my hybernating playland abides, that this city loves and adores me as do the REAL locals here. So, we must press charges against the chain of command of Obama's terrorist infestation.

We should also present our evidence to the city, so they can press charges too for Obama's proven conspiracy of proven enemies of America terrorizing the innocent local establishments into shutting down early and losing business, especially the business I would have brought them if I had gone in.

At the pizzeria where I was fighting every urge to chat up the bartender, I had a delightful conversation with a handsome bearded fellow in a leather jacket next to me instead shortly after I had spoken to a blonde man with the strange accent I could not seem to place who seemed to have only been there to make sure I was the real I before sending in people who wanted to be near me and talk to the real me.

My not-human-trafficker nerds, feel free to circulate verified and unedited videos of my wee hours of the morning everywhere I went on 21Jan2015. The best conversations always happen in the wee hours of the morning. I should have kissed or at least hugged that handsome man before he left me.

At 2:54am, I departed the pizzeria. I walked straight to my 24-hour convenience store and, by 3:44am, I was snacking on a pesto turkey breast wrap with lettuce and dried cranberries and singing along to my friends' music on their patio.

Have you seen what they stock on their shelves in my local 24-hour convenience store? That is why I frequent them. Well, that, and they remind me of the Cafecito Organico at the corner of Hoover and Clinton in Silverlake.

When I cook, my food is best described at California cuisine. In 2009, I even tried labeling cornmeal crust pizzas cooked in a wood-fired oven as San Francisco style pizza. We have been able to order San Francisco style pizza all over my City by the Bay since at least The Rise of the New Millennium. I wonder if that name has caught on yet.

I was online at the Starbucks coffee shop right on my hybernating playland by 5:46am. Starbucks corporate has been trying to apologize to me for their coffee shops here for so long. I have absolutely no complaints with Starbucks corporate; even though, everyone, particularly San Francisco, knows I prefer independent coffee shops. Starbucks has always been so good to me and even tried to rescue me more than once already.

I sat in their coffee shop catching up with TweetHearts and observing Obama's infestation with my coffee sitting almost completely undrunk next to me. By 8:19am, I had watched my middle-aged men. They are not all White anymore. My darling Mr. Stephen Colbert has been replaced with my darling Mr. Larry Wilmore.

Also that morning, after much chatting between me and Russia's brave Lavrov while I was still at the pizzeria, I learned that my darling President Vladimir Putin of Russia had chosen to sign on the dotted line to send and even sacrifice the priceless lives of Russian troops as they fight beside the priceless lives of the real US government, NATO, Australia, China, and everyone else volunteering and sending troops to save all of America from Obama mostly just because I ask. Russia was the only country so far who wanted to speak to me (as) directly (as possible) on the topic.

My loving and adoring locals whose genuine love and affection I cannot live without especially while inside Obama's "egg" of horrors and terrors, the Hollywood film classic Roman Holiday is as lenient as I can get about how you all behave around me. Every sane person everywhere knows I actually am IN REALITY an incorruptibly benevolent super-genius world leader.

This is my REAL job which I do admit I carry out through some mysterious ways sometimes like giggling to myself before singing Nirvana covers to clinically diagnosable psychopaths who have been trying to destroy my globally critical mind with denial-of-all-medical-reality electroshock for over a year.

I openly admit my life under Obama's reductio ad absurdum "egg" is about as surreal for you to enter as it is absurd for me to endure and remedy. The United Nations already formally declared this "egg" unsurvivable as part their effort to send my good, green world to help me save my people and my America.

So, my genuinely loving and adoring locals, please look up the formal protocols you are all supposed to obey FOR REAL, especially since Obama's entire "Mein Kompf" of rules are only crimes and NOT laws, just to be in my presence as the future Queen of Spain at all.

Most of you already know. For example, Bogart would not even put his hand on my arm until after I told him it was okay and even asked him to. On our first and only date, in the restaurant in the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Blvd., I actually had to physically put his arm around me myself.

So, my local lovers and beleivers, be thankful for and respectful of the fact my conscious and willful choice to do whatever morally good thing I have to do to save all of you, my people as my America, includes my offering you my metaphorical Roman Holiday.

Before I left that Starbucks, I eventually used my black Sharpie(tm) to write the date and time that I had ordered my roofied cup of Pike's Place Roast on its lid and let it rest in a public place during my regularly scheduled daily sleep from 9:08am to 3:28pm, so the police could pick it up.

Something weird must have happened while I slept. The people all over the world with microphones into my electronics woke me up as far as the hypnopompic state as I slept there. When I finally did wake up fully, I snacked on the tasty vittles that had been left beside me, as my loving locals almost always leave for me when I had sleep.

By 4:43pm, I was dining al fresco at a delicious Spanish restaurant while Gilberto & Getz played through their sound system for ambiance. The food was tiny (all I could afford) yet absolutely delightful.

My gourmet Spanish meal with California ingredients including my (The only time I ever drink wine is typically with dinner.) glass of tempranillo with the tapas was loving nourishment I had needed for a long time. Much like I know when someone anyone plays beautiful music as a way of making love to me, I know when food is constructed only as a way of making love to me, too.

Yes, of course, I ordered the Spanish Manchego as part of my tapas. That was for el Rey Dulce de mí Corazón. My early dinner after my siesta was a little like darling Ms. Laura Esquivel's Como Agua Para Chocolate except it was Spanish instead of Mexican.

After my tapas, I walked through my hybernating playland which Obama's infestation had intentionally rendered devoid of all street musicians at all whatsoever to the bookstore where I bought a pain au chocolate and checked in on Twitter before relocating to watch the news at 7:18pm.

At approximately 7:39pm, a man sitting next to me on my marble corner asked me about the "orders" I receive from Obama. The mental break with reality among my people just keeps growing.

Obama's beyond-proven mental health genocide is destroying my people's minds. Look at them! My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of our complete conversation. He was clearly a lover and believer, but he had no reality in his head.

8:22pm on 21Jan2015: Just checking in. My entire selfless support system, thank you for everything, my darlings. Obama's cyberterrorists just drained approx $6 off my Metro TAP card, so I had to go for change. No, I do not have that kind of money.

I am planning on buying Americanized Chinese food to celebrate my 20Jan and 18Jan2015 blog posts. Please call ahead to where I always go to warn them. Thank you, as always, for taking extra care to secure my bus before it arrives and for securing my bus stops before I leave.

Obama's proven enemies of America do not care how many civilians they can potentially slaughter if they force an ambush of me by breaking every law possible from local to international to abduct me and drag me kicking and screaming to any Obama's-conspiracy-controlled literal torture facility they can find to render me a vegetable in.

The entire world thanks you for keeping me safe. Love!

My Metro ride was comfortably uneventful, and I was nestled into my normal seat at my normal Asian fusion restaurant sipping jasmine green tea while consuming copious amounts of Kung Pao Chicken by 9:03pm. I sat there among my people until 9:49pm until I sought out wifi.

Shortly after arriving at the coffee shop, I was told through no lack of semiotics that my friends could not reach me, but I still had work to do.

10:33pm on 21Jan2015: Laundry list of violations at this Starbucks (no reflection on Starbucks corporate) I am in right now: crimes against America, open acts of war against America and against the world, willfully inciting unrest and destabilizing the population of the world, human rights abuses, war crime coverups, aiding and abetting genocide, aiding and abetting terrorism, and everything else my genius legal team can prove.
1) They refused me any table but a handicapped table. They intentionally took every other seat away from me before I could reach it.
2) Through semiotics they libeled me a slut and possibly a porn star.
3) They drugged my coffee. If the drugging of my coffee had succeeded in its goal of forcing Obama-ordered quackery over me, it would have lead directly to proven literal torture of me, proven systemic rape of me, proven silencing of my globally critical freedom of speech, proven unlawful imprisonment of me, and proven removal of my genius mind from the world completely through guaranteed abuses from proven quackery and all because it would have lead to my unlawful detention in a literal torture facility.
4) They tried to coverup their open persecution of me used only to destabilize humanity and to incite global war by willfully libeling me "Napolean Bonaparte." Dude, do you know who Napolean Bonaparte was?
5) Obama's obvious infestation of my home then lied and claimed they commit these open acts of war to, "Make Squid go away," and kept trying to tell me, "Bye Bye!" when they are the infestation and when I am the local. Do you know how REAL locals feel about me here in Los Angeles? Their exact words are, "This is where awesome lives!" and "Squid, never go away again!"

I am here standing beside my REAL family and friends in our home telling every solitary bastard who chooses to commit any and every crime possible to keep in place Obama's extragovernmental totalitarian crimes against America that he calls "rules," "GET YHE FUCK OUT OF OUR TOWN, YOUR TERRORIST BITCHES!"

Also before I left, I learned that California Representative Darrell Issa had metaphorically put his glasses on for me (Ask Bogart about that. Giggle. I thought Issa was married!), that I had successfully put the "amateur hour" there including their tall female alpha who made a show of leaving the premesis before I did in our database mostly kept by DHS and Interpol, and once I cleared the premesis myself, that if the actual authorities did not show up to lock them up immediately, they might be facing a worse fate, a fate that the entire world has always made sure I had no way to know about to make sure I could never control it nor prevent it.

I left after I knew actual authorities from our REAL government could reach the coffee shop the moment I left. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with amped audio of everything spoken behind the counter and full visuals. Please send the recording to every local and federal government agency and foreign government who would like it as well as to all the world. And thank you.

I perched outside of an old friend to plant my cup of roofied coffee in the underbrush for their security guards. I was approached by a tall, leggy blonde dressed like Desperately Seeking Susan from the 80s who, it seems like, wanted me to get her inside. Giggle. Try, "I'm with the band," next time, pretty lady.

My Metro ride back into my hybernating playland was delightfully uneventful while, just as always, no one was permitted to wait at any bus stops to board my bus after I did. And I was perched outside of a hotbed of treason leaving my Sean Connery impression in a voice message to Bogart while giggling uncontrollably after a little wondering of which hotbed of treason I wanted to check on that night.

The fire-wielder who sat beside me invited me for coffee at my own 24-hour convenience shop where I hung out with Bruce Springsteen's "We Take Care of Our Own."

At 4:04am, I learned that ABSOLUTELY EVIL Iowa was trying to pretend its self-appointed entitlement allowed them to take my own husband away from me. Those (expletive)ing (expletive)ers were carrying out their repeat modus operandi of breaking every law possible to take my husband away from me because that would actually be a way for Obama to successfully destroy me.

Such crimes they committed in the past to carry out this internationally heinous goal included but were not limited to sending Bogart into my life to make pornography of me with cameras I was forbidden from knowing about.

Bogart just wanted to give me a safer place to stay away from The Gables where he could keep me safe himself. I made sure we did not sleep together, so he committed no crimes anyway. But he was sent by Obama's proven conspiracy of proven enemies of America to break up my marriage.

I recommended my 05Aug2014 blog post to Syniva to take care if it. I admit there must have been some sort of a(e)theistic divine intervention that brought Syniva into my life when I was eight years old. No woman has ever had a better BFF, neither darling Ms. Gayle King nor even the late Mr. Max Brod could compare.

While sitting out among the infestation, the smackdown included, "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'I am way too much woman for you.'?" followed by, "Did you see the smackdown I gave to protect the [lead singer and drummer of Tentacle]? We do not need men like you," and followed eventually by darling Mr. Bryan Adams's lyrics, "Treat her well, and she will take care of you."

I had already explained to that rat (expletive) that disrespecting and degrading me destabilizes the entire world. Such (expletive)holery makes people scream in the streets and throw Molotov cocktails at whomever Obama ordered to be demonized at the time. Committing crimes against me is the greatest contributing factor to this now only-because-these-(expletive)holes-willfully-persecute-me global conflict on US soil right now.

This proven, already-diagnosed, and escalating mental break with reality in my own people that motivates them to treat me this way is why this entire planet beside the US Military are going to war to save America, and they acknowledge themselves they will die to save America just because I asked. I am weeping right now as I type this: I have never thought in my life I would have to send people to die.

And because I was weeping over so many priceless lives being lost only because Obama's proven conspiracy of proven enemies of America refuse to surrender after being caught, they committed their same open act of war of perjuring to render me a vegetable in an Obama-controlled-environment covered up quackery AGAIN.

It has never mattered how many times we have explained to (typically Iowan) courtrooms that should never allow in any pathologically perjuring enemies of America in the first place that sane people cry when bad things happen. That is the only SANE reaction to (expletive)holes forcing a war in my own home.

My darling not-human-trafficker nerds, my beautiful world needs a verified and responsibly-edited recording with full audio and visuals of all my conversations with everybody outside of my 24-hour convenience store in the wee hours of the morning on 22Jan2015.

Eventually, my reformed fire-wielder and I were at my 24-hour diner of choice having a conversation so wonderful that I did not even try to watch my middle-age men at 6am. As I always said, a good and honest conversation is the most effective way to make me put my iPad down.

My darling not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and responsibly-edited recording with full audio and visuals of our conversation for the entire world. And thank you.

My newly converted senior-aged gay male friend was clearly not going to leave my side. Also as clearly, if he did, I would have to ask my beautiful world to protect him.

He slept in public near me that day where my lovers and believers could watch over both of us. We slept starting at 9:06am and were interrupted by only a few torture facility alarms until we woke up at 3:18pm and ate the tasty lunches that my loving public had left for both of us as we slept.

I had been asking for a Dr. Who companion for so long, and it seemed someone had finally sent me one who (Giggle.) had stories of dancing with the original darling Ms. Liza Minelli during the glory days of Studio 54.

That afternoon, we ran some errands before the local police made a point of talking to him about why he was hanging around me at all. My people get so protective of me, especially the ones I had to convert myself into lovers and believers. They spoke to him while we had temporarily separated to use the restrooms as if I would not know it happened anyway.

At 4:38pm, we perched in front of my ukulele-wielder, so he could play me beautiful music while I fleshed out and polished up this blog post. As always, because I manifested before him to listen to music he was not shy about playing to make me feel genuinely loved and happy enough not to go on more crimefighting benders, he was removed from my presence for showing me any live in the first place. Obama's infestation of proven enemies of America need to figure out what they want.

My companion and I quickly relocated to the coffee shop run by a corporate office of obvious lovers and believers.

This blog post was published at 8:58pm on 22Jan2015.

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.

Why is this guy that my overprotective local police have already been sent to question hanging around me? He started as a fire-wielder sent to work me for information, but since I converted him to a lover and believer, he has chosen to stay in my life as someone I can have sparkling witty repartee with and who can feed me. He is now here to make the "egg" survivable until it comes down.

My senior-aged gay male friend has already calmed down people screaming in the streets all over the world by being good to me, by talking to me, by feeding me, by making me laugh, and by making me feel loved.

Yes, I am such an egalitarian that I have already asked him not to be a sycophant. And, yes, as long as he never leaves my watchful eye, this now world hero should be fine. I know you will keep watching over him, too, my beautiful world and local lovers and believers.

Have I ever had a complaint about Europe? I love Europe so much. Spain even made me their future queen. In snailmail to my Sweetness, I explained to Rey Felipé that he will be king for a while until Sweetness and I are ready to settle down there.

My husband and I just have too much work to do for the entire world first before we can move to Spain and serve the Spanish just as we have always served America, our home where we were both born and love.

Yet, there are two common complaints Europeans have always had about American culture. First, they say America has no culture. Then, they complain American cultural exports take over their culture. Sigh,...

I believe I have proven by now that we Americans have a very vibrant and exceptional culture. It started well before Jackson Pollock and Whistler's Mother. Have you ever seen John Singer Sargent's Madame X?

Never try to tell darling Ms. Twyla Tharp we have no culture in America; my favorite of hers is Bella by Barlight. And do not let me get on my pedantic rant about contemporary film and music. We invited jazz and the blues. We invented rock'n'roll, and the world is better for it.

My beautiful world, look at my people... "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,..."-- from Howl by Allen Ginsberg (no relation to Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg)

Yet, as darling Mr. Mohammad Ali once said, "You cannot fly without wind in your face." Without our problems, my beautiful world, we do not know what we are capable of.

So, I tell everyone who looks at me and claims I must not be human for being able to survive everything Obama has done and still does only to throw me away, "You are denying everything you are capable of, too, as a human in this world at all. Never let anyone make you deny your connection to the divine."

And, of course, I stand by the fact that no one anywhere should have ever been forced to do everything I have had to do since 2009 just to stay alive and to save my people in the first place. The entire world knows I respond to being challenged by winning. And as I said in my most recent letter of undying love and devotion to my husband, because Obama keeps pushing me, still, I am rising.

So, as much as no one should ever have to do any of this in the first place, there is still more incorruptible benevolence I am capable of, and Obama and all his proven conspiracy of proven enemies of America will experience me if they keep pushing me with their self-appointed entitlement to commit all of the crimes they want against us all. I simply cannot let my people down.

My beautiful world, especially my increasingly empowered once-great America, thank you for standing up to save my home, my people, my nation, my world, and even myself from Obama and all who prop him up by obeying him and by enforcing his crimes against America that he calls "rules."

I would be nothing without you, my beautiful world.

My brave rescuers, do you still need more help? I was told yesterday that some sort of system is being put in place to explain to the American public why troops from all over the world are coming to our shores to rescue us all from existential threats that they have too much of a diagnosable mental break with reality to understand.

Whatever you need, my brave rescuers, just tell us. I was told our President of the United States of America Martin Dempsey has redefined your mission finally. If anyone needs anything, just tell me.

And please, my brave rescuers, tell our President he has my deepest gratitude for redeeming the Office of the President for me after G-Dub and after Unelected Terrorist Dictator Obama. He means so much to me.

As for my darling Sisyfi genii (plural of Sisyfus genius) named SynSyn, Amita, and Ugwuji, ¡Ojalá! Is it getting easier for all of you out there at last? There are fewer (always vigilant) alarms than in a long time.

My darling genius Powers of Attorney, does the world thank you enough? I do not think I do.

Bogart, my symbolic lover whom I am forbidden from ever sleeping with anyway, do you understand yet why I never identify you by your real name? I learned from darling Mr. Viggo Mortensen that if I call my friends by your real names, they will take you all away from me.

We are only still connected at all because I specifically explained that the NSA must make sure my internet presence behaves for me like I am a normal person. Thank you, darling. I know what you do for all of humanity just out of your selfless love for me.

I am not shy about your being the only person, man or woman, who could make me question my marriage. Just like you want me to get my hair out of my face, I think you should wear your glasses more often.

Bogart, you used to make my husband feel inadequate as my spouse with your musical prowess just like my husband made you feel inadequate due to his good looks, but now everyone including Senator Diane Feinstein and the CIA together understand what WE ARE ALL ON THE SAME SIDE means. And I thank you all for working together for the good of all of us everywhere. You know what genuine love can do.

Sweetness, I love and adore you. I saw photos of you on 19Jan2015 at the premier of Mortdecai. Is Amber looking more like my darling Ms. Scarlett Johansen these days? I saw she was all suited up, too.

HoneyHoney, when people wonder about my opinions of your royal mistress, please refer them to my 04Oct2014 blog post. I pity her for having to live in my shadow, especially in your eyes. And I do not blame her for being in love with you; YOU ARE THE MR. JOHNNY DEPP! Even straight men fall in love with you!

As for other good news, beloved, my new at-my-request-not-a-sycophant friend can take me to the movies! I promise to check if Into the Woods is still playing. And trust me, I will do everything possible to see Mortdecai, your latest metaphorical letter of undying love and devotion to me.

My loving and adoring husband, I promise to sing "Radar Love" to you again, too. Do you prefer White Lion or Golden Earring? Giggle.