Stop Calling me a Metaphorical Gypsy if You are the People Refusing to Allow me to Live in my Own Home.

Title: Stop Calling me a Metaphorical Gypsy if You are the People Refusing to Allow me to Live in my Own Home.

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. Yes, just like all Brown people everywhere from Saphartic Jews and Latina women to Gujaratis and Bengalis, even the Roma have always welcomed me as one of their own and even tried to claim me as their own. Just as my husband is an honorary Comanche warrior, by virtue of overcoming my slave history even Black Americans claim me as their own.

We are one world. We are one people. Your racist reasons for calling me a Gypsy have never insulted me, but you are the enemies of America who have always refused to allow me to live in my own home on which me and my legally-recognized husband have paid joint taxes since 2013, the same year Obama was impeached and the same year I won the Nobel Peace Prize for my irrefutable work history of creating peaceful solutions to major global crises while simultaneously suffering (understatement) abusive rape-slavery that Iowa had made as inescapable as possible for me.

France. There was no representation of America's leadership at the march of global unity in Paris over the weekend. There has been a lot said about this. Personally, I wish President of the United States of America Martin Dempsey had been there.

I have been asking him to "man up" and be the president in the world's eyes for months now. I am just an NGO. We all need REAL help in here from our REAL president. But, of course, I understand that my friend Dempsey wants and enjoys the role and responsibilities of presidency about as much as I similarly never want them.

But just like him, when my people need and ask, I also do every morally good thing necessary for my nation. Just like Martin Dempsey before me, if my brave rescuers desire me to be a President of the United States of America, I will do anything for them, too.

Please revisit my 18Oct2014 blog post, my beautiful world, if you need the refresher on how Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff constitutionally became out president anyway.

Also about the march in Paris, my similarly die-hard supporter Secretary of State John Kerry was probably too busy trying to rescue me to attend. We diplomats, we know our own. Giggle.

Ask Bruce Springsteen sometime about what his song "We Take Care of Our Own" means to every profession that claims me as their own as I do every morally good thing I have to do, whether or not I have been trained for it, to save my people and my world from Obama's "egg."

I published my last blog post at 7:07pm on 10Jan2015 after I had relocated from the Getty Center nested in the hills above Los Angeles to a place with much better bandwidth, but by 7:17pm, I had learned that there was no NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening requiring that bandwidth. I was going to have to go without my evening metaphorical hug.

I was still perched outside of my wifi hotspot at 7:28pm when a vigilant alarm for Obama's latest acts of terrorism and war against America blared by. I immediately asked my beautiful world to send all help possible to them.

Almost immediately afterwards, at 7:35pm, I received a (promised by my City of Angels to no longer be so rare) show of human compassion for me, a woman standing in the rain trying to use wifi provided to our community for free. The security for the building I was standing outside of invited me inside out if the rain and cold and told me to make myself comfortable just for being a human in need in their presence. I was beyond grateful.

While seated in the window, I reported a torture facility threat to all of humanity by threatening me at 7:56pm. While Ugwuji expertly took care of it, I caught up with my TweetHearts and Facebook friends.

I was told I and my beautiful world lost over 2000 brave rescuers in the attack that I had just sent my beautiful world to help them with. Does anyone understand yet how much I hate when brave heroes die?

I knew I needed to ground myself before the systematic ass-kicking I was guaranteed to give Obama's conspiracy of proven enemies of America over the following days. I never used to get so angry. That is one of the signs that my intolerable suffering actually has affected me.

Just so I could exorcise from my body my anger over losing so many of all the world's brave heroes as rescuers of my people in America, I began planning my next crime-fighting bender. Most offices would not be open until Monday. In the meantime, I asked my dear local friend (rumored to be born and raised in Westchester) if he could sneak me into his show that night.

The latest torture facility threat to all of humanity by threatening me was still circling at 8:41pm, and at 9:11pm, alas, my rock drummer friend Johnny Haro told me through silent ways that it would not be safe for me at his show that night, as much as I would have loved to have seen The Dreaming again.

As I continued working online, there were more alarms at 9:38pm. I asked my beautiful world to check on everyone, and I wondered if it was Wingman; my darling Mr. Jared Leto, my favorite of all my "celebrity stalkers," had just earned his nickname.

Though I was right about Wingman, at 9:39pm, I learned it was a full-blown torture facility alarm. The same threat blared a few more times that night before never-fail Ugwuji had it completely mitigated.

With no questions, my 10Jan2015 blog post had made a difference. At 9:50pm, I was told by the security where I was to just make myself comfortable. It was raining hard outside, and they had no intentions of making anyone go out in the weather like King Lear shunned by his daughters.

But my crosstown friends had already proven they could not reach me there and were planning on breaching the walls around Troy the same time as I was about to enter them myself.

So, as promised, at 10pm I left for the Metro.

In transit, I learned I was right about Wingman. He, as well as a few others were stopped trying to make their way inside our walled Troy while I had the border down by traveling across it myself.

10:25pm on 10Jan2015: Just checking in. My beautiful world, please call the Steak'N'Shake. They always invite me in to get me out of the cold and rain, especially the very humanly compassionate managers. Please tell them yourselves you are sending a local already inside this walled Troy to buy me dinner and please also send someone to buy me that dinner. Wake up Steak'N'Shake corporate to protect them if necessary and provide everyone with my #10Jan2015BlogPost if needed. Thx! I will press full charges against EVERY enemy of America I find there, especially if they commit any open acts of war by persecuting me, so warn them all before I arrive. This particular Steak'N'Shake closes at 12mid on Saturday night/Sunday mornings. Stick with my #SquidStream in case of emergency. #LOVE!

And as promised, at 10:35pm, I was perched in my fast food chain of and for lovers and believers that always invited me in out of the rain every time in the past. And because they are stupid, at 10:42pm, members of Obama's terrorism and war machine had entered, tried to command the staff to throw me out, and had even gotten in my face. I believe I even caught them extorting money from some other completely innocent customer.

So, to keep the world as safe as possible from their openly hostile warmongering, I kept my eye and ear on them both until 10:45pm when they fled my act of collecting hard evidence against them.

By 11:24pm, the Steak'N'Shake was filling with business just because I was there. To love me or to hate me, I am why people show up and spend their money. I turned in a "couple" by the door for trying to control and command the establishment through fear. Controlling people and removing our human rights through fear not just through violence is still the very definition of terrorism.

At 11:57pm, I left my perch that closed at 12mid. I noticed that I had been irrationally demonized to my 24-hour convenience store again. And next, I was approached by a long string of menfolk trying to tell me they had blankets. THERE IS VERY LITTLE REALITY INSIDE THE WALLED TROY!

I realized I had dozed off in an internationally secured place due to either a roofie or my caffeine withdrawal from my not having my normal one caffeinated drink for the day when the police woke me up at 6:46am on 11Jan2015 to remind me to go pick up my wallet at the place that had made a public statement I had accidentally left it in their restroom on the morning of 09Jan2015.

I arrived at that Starbucks a distance from my playland by 7:04am that had made the public record the previous morning of having laid possession to my wallet, but they still did not return my wallet to me including my keys, driver's license, medical insurance card, debit card, etc.

On the upside, with Obama forbidding me my own ID, no one could pretend I was my own real self instead of the doppelgänger they always insist on treating me as all of the time, so NO ONE COULD PUT ME IN ANY LITERAL TORTURE FACILITY EVER AGAIN or at least until I found $28 somewhere without my wallet to pay for a replacement drivers license at the local California DMV.

All I would have to say if stopped would be, "Don't be silly; I just look like her." Or, Obama's conspiracy could just give me my wallet back which they have already admitted to willfully stealing from me themselves by ordering would-be good people not to let me have it.

I walked to the local library to see what time it opened on Sundays. They had recently changed their hours. I was greeted outside by a number of mustachioed men too young for me all with long blond hair and guitars as if they wanted to be a 90s rock star in my life. I realized the pattern of strange menfolk telling me they all had blankets finally. Does no one read my blog?

First of all, no people inside the walled Troy are sane but the actual locals. So, I will be as blunt about this as possible. Go back and reread my 02Jan and 04Jan2015 blog posts please.

I spent my New Years Eve, as I had requested, with ghosts of my brave rescuers. MI6, as their thank you for my Christmas Eve at Disneyland, sent me an angel I could easily identify, and if you read the diary of St. Theresa herself, her ecstasy only occurs when her heart is pierced by the sword of an angel.

It was the closest I will ever be to an embrace by my long lost Throrbald for whom I will always give my Viking battlecry and who died years ago as a rumored one-man war machine trying to rescue me from as-inescapable-as-Iowa-could-make-it rape slavery that Iowa still believes it has a self-appointed entitlement to enforce over me again.

What did I say about Thorbald on 25Nov2012?

The Legend of Thorbald

Was Thorbald more mouse or more ninja? As the verbose woman with the shackled wings sipped her coffee in the chocolate shop, he guarded her from the underbrush where none could see him but her right eye. He alone could slink past the nefarious to keep her safe. Some say even light falls not upon him should he not desire it so.

Some day he will be close enough she can embrace him in gratitude. Until then, she feels the safety of his watchful eye and must find comfort in that alone. To her he is a mouse, but to the rest of the world who must feel the cold steel of his wrath should anything harm her, he is nothing but ninja.

And did you see the message I had left for Cuddlebunny to make sure my good friends who fight so hard yet so invisibly to keep me physically safe here inside Obama's "egg" would know where to find me on New Years Eve?

1:11pm on 31Dec2014: Sorry for the change of plans, darling. I have no way to leave my barricades until Friday, assuming I finally receive my gift cards from my mother that day. I am just going to have to find someone with irresistible animal magnetism inside this walled Troy to kiss tonight instead of a 90s rock star. Hm....

Yes, I admit I left a note on a napkin at the faux Irish pub named Jameson's in Hollywood this last Wednesday night, 07Jan2015, with a kissy mark on a yin yang symbol as my way to tell them I wanted Tao back in my life, the (I think) Delta Force operative who also cuddled me on New Years Eve, the one who stayed for one more day with me and who gave me the romantic yet-no-making-love night on the movie-set-quality lifeguard station.

But that was my open statement of appreciation and love for America's REAL heroes who fight battles worse than Fallujah EVERY DAY and EVERY NIGHT while (expletive)holes here inside Obama's "egg" are committing open acts of war against all of the world by willfully persecuting me.

Again, please read my 02Jan and 04Jan2015 blog posts about all of this. This is also further proof that my knowledge about everything that goes on for REAL,comes from living through it and among it all.

I let those mustachioed wannabes know myself that since it was just after 8am and since the library was not going to open until 1pm, I was going to go to my counterterrorism "office" that I used to visit every day in September, October, etc. in late 2014 to keep the infrastructure of my home as capable of serving my people as possible.

Yes, I decided to check on my favorite local transit hub again. Feel free to read my 28Sep2014 blog post about my counterterrorism "office" any time you like.

At a connecting bus stop, I was approached by a man in a beat up, yellow, Mustang convertible. I was suspicious at first, but since he was honest when he promised me absolutely no romantic overtures just conversation, I accepted his ride to my counterterrorism "office."

Eventually, because I had quickly converted him from being an (amateur) agent of Obama sent to collect information he could use against me and against my selfless support system to a true lover and believer, he was ordered not to take me into my "office" but to deposit me someplace outside instead.

We worked around those orders together, so he could still be a friend to me without disobeying who sent him. He was an old Motown musician who looked like Bill Cosby and who told me his name was "Billy." What converted him was the hard evidence that I do not order people to kill people; why else are Unelected Terrorist Dictator Obama and War Criminal Boeset still alive? The conversation was fabulous.

At 11:07am, I was sipping a Rock Star energy drink as he gassed up "his friend's car" at a gas station. By 11:41am, he had bought me a double-double with onions at an In-N-Out Burger. By 1:23pm, we were walking down the Santa Monica Pier together to look at the ocean. And by 4:17pm, we were done eating pupusas together in Hollywood.

The conversation was spectacular. I have already requested the verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals from my not-human-trafficker nerds be delivered in digestible bites to my entire world as fast as humanly possible. He did not leave me until after his earspeaker had demonized me to him.

Basically, I need to choose myself whom I sleep with. That is the only way I will be able to make love to anyone. There are plenty of men and women in this town I would love to have a physical relationship with, but Obama's proven conspiracy of proven enemies of America forbid me all contact with all of them.

Just like they lie about me as some sort of virgin and pregnant woman and man in a dress all at the same time, Obama's clinically diagnosable psychopaths need to make up their mind on what they are actually demanding when they spread every lie possible and commit every crime possible to satisfy their textbook psychopathic power and control obsession over me, the proven superhuman crimefighter who keeps turning them all in all day every day and all night every night.

I thought about asking my genuine locals (I could tell because they were genuinely respectful and loving of me.) at the taqueria where to find quality cumbia and reageton in my City of Angels, but instead, I left by 5pm.

I sent some friends to check on "Billy" from the yellow Mustang once I left the train station and reached my bus stop. I intentionally took the scenic route to secured wifi by riding a Metro bus a little out of the way through a neighborhood I had been trying to save for a long time to check on everyone.

En route, there were alarms, alarms, and alarms! Please check my REAL Twitter account for all of my daily play-by-play. Amita and Ugwuji were heroes as always. I am trying not to take their genius for granted.

I also told my mother to give up my only phone number I have had since 2001, since it will never work again anyway. Good bye, 415.577.1249! I know you will never be reassigned anyway.

Before I perched to watch the NBC Nightly News from earlier in the evening at 7pm like clockwork, I learned that A LOT of my friends were at the 2015 Golden Globes that night, possibly even my loving and adoring husband. I know for sure that my adult-adoptive father was there.

The NBC Nightly News was delightful and gave me my nightly metaphorical hug. Afterwards, the security of the building I was perched outside of invited me inside until they closed at 11pm to keep me from shivering in the cold.

Yes, my City of Angels was slowly setting itself free from its orders to single me out for worse treatment than anyone else would ever receive from them and were starting to treat me as another human in their presence again. The snowball of love was rolling down the mountain with all of us inside.

I checked in with my selfless support system just before I left for the Metro. Previously, at approximately 4pm that afternoon, my rock drummer friend Johnny Haro had made sure he told me that he was at the Hinano Café on Venice Beach playing rock classics again to make up for the previous night.

The last time I was at the Hinano, it took a metaphorical dance of legal language for me to protect the venue after member's of Obama's infestation had made a show of pushing me around on the dance floor then telling me to my face that they had a right to abuse me like that.

While in transit to the darling Hinano on Venice Beach with its long history with the late darling Mr. Jim Morrison, at 10:22pm, I sent a rescue to my crosstown loved one while in transit. Rumor had it Bogart was trying to show up to kiss me and watch me meditate.

There was also some rumored brouhaha over our catching Obama's enemies of America violating their own rules that they kill people to enforce through their pretending they could know what is in my personal emails that were not addressed to those enemies of America.

The trip to Venice Beach looked fruitless at first. The doorman told me the band had already stopped playing at 9pm, and the crowd looked like a bunch of frat boys claiming insincerely they were metaphorically orange.

Yet, as even a surprise to me, by 11:17pm, I had caught one of Obama's original enemies of America in the area, the (expletive) who had physically pushed me around on the dance floor thereby destabilizing humanity and committing open acts of war against America and against the world the last time I was there.

She was just as ugly as ever, and she also seemed to have trouble keeping men in her life. There was a completely different mob of ugly White men with her than the previous time I had seen her.

By 12:04am, I was chatting with two homeless men under the awning of an international perfumery while the site of the most famous dance macabre ever kept screaming, "They told us she died!" Yes, it seemed to be a karaoke macabre inside that once-British-pub-for-expats that night.

If you want a kick out of how blisteringly dumb and scathingly malevolent people have to be to openly hate someone as proven incorruptibly benevolent as I am, subpoena the security footage from inside that once-pub from the wee hours of the morning on 12Jan2015.

Walking down the street towards my playland, I assessed the identity of and invited along my lost puppy for the morning, the ghost of Jim Morrison. I brought him along as I charged my iPad battery and checked for questions from the world at all hours of the night.

One of the best ways to convince me to put my iPad down is to have witty conversation with me, but the conversation was horrible that morning. But I knew who he was.

Because he has already been extracted out from under my protective wing, it is okay for me to say this. He was sent to be my new Tao but had to investigate my superhuman powers for Obama to have permission from Obama's conspiracy to stay by my side. At one point, I even told him he did not need to keep pretending he was creepy, he could just ask me the questions he needed answers to.

At 5:29am, there were new torture facility alarms that never-fail Amita was on shift to mitigate.

The whole morning, I could not tell if my new ghost was actually doing drugs or not. His pipe always looked empty, but he kept blowing real smoke. But when he went into what looked withdrawal symptoms after buying me a feast of a breakfast, he might have hard evidence of my energy healing him. I know there was a lot of surveillance of us by whom he was investigating me for, and they most likely included heat cameras.

I could not tell if he actually was in withdrawal, but I could tell he could feel it. His words to my face afterwards were, "Teach me." Was that hard evidence of my not-really-superhuman-a-lot-people-can-energy-heal ability why he was so quickly collected and removed while I was in the restroom after breakfast to keep him safe?

I slept very soundly and safely watched by my loving public from 7:52am to 1:40pm on 12Jan2015. There were no alarms to wake me, but I knew it would be another Monday.

At 2:31pm, I checked my bank balance, and yes, I had already received my normal Monday deposit from ABSOLUTELY EVIL Iowa of the $50 for the entire week which is the only money under any circumstances that Obama will ever let me live on inside of his "egg."

So, I proceeded to my local Wells Fargo Bank branch which I had already made a show of protecting from both Obama's infestation and from the crimes against America and against the world that their corporate offices propagate by refusing to acknowledge I am married, a willful obedience to crimes against America and against the world that I am still wishing Wells Fargo corporate will take the three never-fail steps to absolution and protection and give up.

I knew they had already received their instructions from Obama's proven conspiracy of proven enemies of America in case I showed up when they opened that morning. I helped them just as they helped me obey their restrictions on their own services while also making sure they could carry out the humane act of allowing me my own money to live on.

While there, I was also able to establish that my loving and adoring public will always know I am the real me if their earspeakers are active no matter what their earspeakers tell them. Yes, that bank branch was wonderful.

Next, at 3:36pm, I sent my selfless support system ahead of me to a predictable hotbed of treason and war crimes that was expecting me that Monday, 12Jan2015, just in case anyone anywhere needed further evidence that everyone on the planet everywhere is safer if Obama's proven enemies of America cannot predict me. It was my new adventure with the California DMV.

4:28pm on 12Jan2015: Syn, thank you. Obama's infestation where I am right now already committed the crimes against America and open acts of war against America and against the world, etc. of aiding and abetting proven and well-documented war crimes against me that always also destabilize all of humanity by planning an abduction here.

By doing this they also proved conspiracy with Proven War Criminal Boeset, with proven enemies of America called the State of Iowa, with the self-proven torture facility they want to proven torture me in and proven unlawfully imprison me in with proven-with-years-of-well-documented-evidence-called-irrefutable-"medical"-malpractice-records quackery as their proven coverup for all of these proven war crimes.

This is their way to enforce all of their other heinous crimes including but not limited to proven mental health genocide and proven human rights abuses enforced with fear and violence over of all of America that are Obama's rules and "egg."

The blond maintenance man in light blue and the self-admitted international criminals with "Inter-Con" on their arms are the beginning of the infestation here. I already caught one of these false "security guards" boldfaced lying to the public that I my job in this world is "serious masturbation."

Syn, we cannot arrest anyone nor press charges against anyone until a REAL crime is committed, and with what is happening in the courtrooms with never-fail Amita right now, we have proven that this infestation in here in conspiracy with Obama's already-proven war criminals out there have already aided and abetted war crimes against me as their open acts of war and willful crimes against America and against the world, etc.

Please make sure these self-proven domestic war criminals and international criminals are all arrested and removed, or at least castrated, before they can carry out their unconscionable and proven plan they already put in action before I arrived here to proven begin WW3 on US soil by abducting me from this location as soon as I give my thumbprint today.

After seating myself at the California DMV right next to one of Obama's enemies of America and after collecting my hard evidence and reporting their crimes including our charges against everyone involved through my locked down SquidStream, at 4:59pm, I was told, "Stephanie is speechless."

Why the hell does anyone care what Proven War Criminal Stephanie's opinion is of anything? She is proven to be too dangerous to all of humanity everywhere due to her criminal insanity.

Furthermore, Proven War Criminal Stephanie's criminal insanity was already proven because every time she is permitted (And she should NOT be permitted any longer.) to say any delusion as well as any proven pathological lie she wants about me on any public record, she honestly believes she has a self-appointed entitlement to never face justice for destabilizing all of humanity for willfully propagating those dangerous untruths about me in the first place.

Lying about me and irrationally demonizing all of us heroes (Obama's proven pathological libelists and proven dirty prosecutors demonizing us are our proof we are all REAL heroes.) are two the most dangerous parts of this entire "egg." The other dangerous parts are committing crimes against any and all of us everywhere by willfully obeying Obama's orders to commit the proven only-crimes Obama calls his rules in the first place.

Shortly before 5:30pm, I just walked out of the DMV with my replacement license in my computer bag and caught the Metro into Los Angeles for my normal Monday night activities. I checked in with my selfless support system at 5:28pm while I was already on the bus.

At 7:09pm, I was at my normal late night haunt for coffee and wifi. The first thing I did was open my arms for my evening hug from the NBC Nightly News at 7:20pm. Sadly, I was twenty minutes delayed from my regular daily activity.

Next, I fleshed out and polished up this blog post before catching up with my TweetHearts.

While generating my commentary for my daily activities since my last blog post, at 9:06pm, I had to ask "WTF?" I had heard rumors of new "espionage" charges against me because I tell really obvious and really predictable hotbeds of treason before I show up there that I will turn them in for any and all crimes they commit there after I arrive there and then live tweet and live blog everything that happens inside.

There is absolutely nothing "undercover" about me. I tell people I will investigate them before I even show up. Health inspectors do not even do that. I thought Obama's proven enemies of America could not get dumber.

My proven crimefighting benders are proven counterterrorism activities that the DHS has already said I just need to pick up my badge over, and if people can call live-tweeting and live-blogging anything undercover at all, it is undercover journalism.

My REAL job and my REAL life is often-thankless and completely-libeled service to my people 24/7. Please everyone everywhere, stop pretending I would ever not make public records of every crime ever committed where I can detect it.

The Obama-obedient enemies of America are the dumb ones committing crimes in front of my eyecamera and earmic that everyone on this planet are required to know I have specifically by Obama's rules themselves, so everyone can deny they are there when I tell them I have them.

This blog post was published at 11:33pm on 12Jan2015.

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.

Am I an example of human evolution? If we exist on the planet Earth at the same time, we have all been evolving for the same amount of time. For example, humans are not descendants of monkeys of we are all here at the same time, but have all descended from the same monkey-like creatures from centuries ago.

"Be fruitful and multiply" is exactly how Darwinism works. Every genus and species naturally mutates and evolves as time goes on. But, also according to Darwinism, I am a failure of evolution if I cannot have children.

"One more time, please, Squid, tell us whether or not this is the Rapture since most of the US is Christian." I hate repeating myself, but okay.

Much like the story of Noah can similarly be explained by historic geography and historic natural disasters as the metaphor for the flooding of the Black Sea after the breaching of the Dardanelles after the melting of the last Ice Age, I believe the Book of Revelations is a metaphor for Global Climate Change including where we all are in human history right now.

Fires. Floods. Earthquakes. A rise of a prince of the people. The music of trumpets. Rising into the sky. Awaiting judgement. I call this metaphor through global conscience.

What is my cultural significance to America beyond my proven religious gravitas? Well, in the British culture I am a TimeLady who saves humanity with no money every time I show up. To the Japanese, I am anime-- a huge-eyed, long-haired, giggling, and hyper-effeminate girly girl with otherworldly power.

Here in the US, I am the Statue of Liberty. I have also been similarly as accurately called the blindfolded Lady Justice, but Syniva, Amita, and Ugwuji do more of that work than I do.

My beautiful world, thank you for all of the public displays of love and unity with my and my people's plight under Obama's "egg" of heinous human rights abuses enforced with fear, terrorism, and violence. Just knowing people care while I am in here where Obama has forbidden me all genuine love and affection for so long is so wonderful. Thank you.

Thank you, also, for being a good, green world who will save America in our own time of need, even if, you will only do so because I ask.

My brave rescuers, GIGGLE! You keep braving Obama's followers berserker lunacy to come in here just to feed me and keep me safe! We all know your battles as horrifying as Fallujah are less traumatizing to you than life inside Obama's "egg" with me, but you keep trying to be with me. Please stop asking me how I know I who you are. I know love when I feel love.

Much more importantly, my brave rescuers, please stop dying. As much as my natural reaction to your senseless deaths in mass numbers drive my crimefighting benders that keep cleaning up my home, to help you stop dying, I am asking my entire beautiful world to help you.

You know my reaction to losing he whom I named Thorbald, and now I have lost almost 10,000 Thorbalds. I am pretty good with words, but I will never find the words that can convey how much you mean to me.

My brave rescuers, I never asked you to fight and die for me and my people; you just chose to show up because taking Obama's conspiracy down is the only sane reaction to the reality of Obama's rules and "egg." I have tried to take responsibility for you and keeping you alive ever since. Sincerely, thank you.

As for my powerful womenfolk, SynSyn, Amita, and Ugwuji, thank you for always keeping up and never failing with our increasingly less Sisyphian legal battles including but not limited to everything Obama's proven enemies of America do in courtrooms out there where I am forbidden from knowing about what threatens all the world by threatening me but also with every criminal I catch in here and with every brave soul I meet in here that we need to keep safe, too.

Do we have our own section and categories of Lexus Nexus yet?

Now, Bogart, my symbolic lover whom I am forbidden from ever sleeping with anyway, ack! As I already said about everyone who loves me and whom I love, if Obama ever genuinely ever wanted his cameras which I am forbidden from knowing about to "secretly" record my ever making love to anyone ever again, he needs to let my choose whom I sleep with.

Bogie, did you hear what I told "Billy" about Jared Clark from Des Moines? Obama never circulated the real recordings of our having sex because they prove what a war criminals and slaver-owners Obama and all his conspiracy really are for forcing me never with a choice of my own to survive this "egg" of rape and torture only in living conditions that are infested with cameras and mics that I am forbidden from knowing about and forbidden from ever escaping no matter where I go and no matter what I do about it.

The actual human-trafficking-only recordings of the real me in any of my Obama-controlled living conditions have always only ever been hard evidence of my completely innocent and wholesome REAL life and REAL survival by the skin of my teeth.

Darling, if there ever were a REAL recording of my making love to anyone, it would be hard evidence of how beautiful and innocent true acts of love are, in case you ever wonder why my assertion of, "Let's do this. I have things to prove," really meant. The hard truth about me always speaks for itself. And thank you.

Sweetness, I love and adore you. Are you really back in our own real home in the Hollywood Hills holding onto the world's faith in me that I can find a way at last to finally come home to you there? You are so breathtakingly romantic. I understand why you cannot bare being as far away from me as your much safer life in France was.

Beloved, please be much more careful than you used to be here in our home that I wanted to have cleaned up for you before you came home. You know what happened to me after I lost Thorbald. What would happen to me if I lost you?

HoneyHoney, the only thing I have ever forbidden you from on this good, green Earth or above is dying before I do. Living away from you for all these years has been a unbearable enough. Please never make me live without you.