Monday, March 2, 2015

Not Just FEMA has been Warned.

Title: Not Just FEMA has been Warned.

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. I need to be permitted to live in my own REAL home where my own REAL locals never want me to leave. This was not, "Welcome to California," this was, "Welcome back home to California, Squid."

Washington, DC. Every one of you from my beautiful world to my REAL federal government need to talk to me. You need help figuring out what to do out there to keep me safe and save my country as fast as possible. Your biggest problem seems to be not getting along with each other.

We would have had a peaceful resolution by now if my country would have listened to me by now. Please stop politicizing saving me, my home, my people, my country, and my world. Please just take REAL action AND DO SOMETHING to save America at last!

Look at how far Obama keeps escalating against all of us in here because you keep permitting him the criminal power to destroy this nation in the first place. Please. My beautiful world and my REAL federal US government, do your real job. Arrest all of these enemies of America finally and save this once-great country! Hurry!

I published my last blog post at 2:34am on 27Feb2015 on Hollywood Blvd right next to the California landmark that is the Chinese Theater. I stood on the boulevard for a few brief moments to feel the city before checking in at my bus stop and returning to my adoptive (since it is neither San Francisco nor Los Angeles) city.

My Metro ride was rather uneventful in the wee hours of that morning considering how exciting my day would be. I waited outside of the Starbucks just down the street from the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity (no reflection on Starbucks corporate) with who looked like a darling late Orson Welles, who looked like my darling Mr. Charlie Kaufman, and who looked like my darling CIA Director John Brennan.

At 5am when they opened, we were all inside together. I perched working online even at 5:53am when I was joined by "Mike" from the previous morning. He was genuine and sincere the previous night, but that morning he seemed so lied to that he was passive aggressive in his hostility toward me. I mean, notorious "Wes" himself respects me more than that when we speak.

I heard a rumor at 6:09am about potential future activity of Obama's criminal terrorist infestation, so I warned all of the local police departments in my entire Metropolis of Angels that Obama was planning on targeting them.

I also even asked the federal government to support them better in here. Sometimes, I just need to announce Obama's future plans to make sure they never happen; I was praying that was the case.

While chatting with "Mike," I had a lot of Twitter activity. That was, after all, the coffee shop where I met the CEO of Twitter months previously and invited him to walk up and down my playland with me. We nerds know our own.

That morning, Syniva caught the coffee shop aiding and abetting war crimes against me that would have led to my assassination. Then, I learned that my darling Mr. Leonard Nimoy had just passed away. I promised myself that I would visit the Griffith Observatory as soon as possible in his honor.

While still there and with, "Mike" as my witness, I thought I might have seen Proven War Criminal Stephanie at that coffee shop, too, violating the restraining order we have had in place to keep her away from me for months, specifically to prevent any more war crimes against me from her. I reminded the local police that they could hold her for 24 hours on any suspicions until we could press full local to federal to international charges against her.

Again, it was an exciting early morning in an infested Starbucks. At least "Mike" made sure I could have some coffee that I could detect absolutely no drugs, poisons, nor exotic diseases in... Then again, I do not always notice if they are there.

I curled up to sleep at 9:58am, and my beautiful world made sure my most vulnerable hours of the day were as safe as possible. I woke up at 2:32pm. Then I ran my errands that I always run just after I wake up.

3:37pm on 27Feb2015: My darling boyfriend, I will be at the bus stop for the Metro to my regular coffee shop just after 4pm. Did you just tell me you cannot reach me there? Handsome, it's okay.

I have a need to chat with Mother Nature today. I always take her advice, and I always fix her problems. No one expects the end of my darling Mr. James Cameron's Avatar. I am just trying to avoid becoming a full-grown adult version of my darling Ms. Drew Barrymore at the end of Firestarter.

Without a chance for me to meditate... I mean, I still don't have my physical sense of balance back yet that I had in 2009 when I meditated every single night in my home neighborhood of North Beach. Do you remember when the lead singer of Floozy felt me touch his face from across the Grant & Green?

I also made a verified record of how my darlings Tentacle were NOT on my playland without earspeakers in their heads by 4pm, as was Obama's obligation to all of humanity.

At 4:12pm, I checked in at the bus stop and then traveled straight to my only regular coffee shop where my baristas are my friends. Obama's public-destabilization machine had already libeled my only regular coffee shop a fictional "hotbed of terrorism," so I walked straight there, noticed they had changed their hours to close earlier during the winter, told my friend behind the counter, "It looks like I missed you; you close at six now," before explaining I was going to investigate the hotbed of terrorism in the grocery store next door and try to talk with Mother Nature at Point Dume, left just as quickly as I had breezed in, and delighted at the glowing smile on my barista's face. Did you notice who was in the coffee shop with him when I did it?

Just as fast as possible, I searched all over the grocery store next door for the criminal terrorist enemies of America I had found the last time I was there. The store was very under-staffed, as if a flurry of terrorists had fled before I could arrive or as if they could not find enough terrorists in time to replace the regular staff.

I bought what was labeled a corn-and-Gouda-stuffed chicken breast but was really a four-cheese-stuffed chicken Marsala, deviled egg potato salad, and Greek orzo salad for dinner. The only troubling person I found was in their coffee stand; she looked like War Criminal Stephanie's daughter and had to receive instructions on how to do everything before she could do it.

After I perched outside my only regular coffee shop, I caught up with my friends online and checked the hours for the state park down the street. Sadly, Point Dume closed at sunset, so I missed my window for a conversation with my darling Ms. Mother Nature there that early evening.

After I sent help to my adult adoptive father, the Mr. Harrison Ford, I heard rumors of some sort of new drama with my darlings Tentacle since they were OBVIOUSLY Obama's new punching bag. I watched the NBC Nightly News at 7pm for my regularly scheduled nightly hug.

It felt like my darlings Tentacle had been instructed to enter my playland after 7pm and spin their handcrafted aether for the night sky herself while their metaphorical night sky was still in Mailbu, or something like that. My outgoing Twitter activity became very pointed.

5:45pm on 27Feb2015: Please check on my adult adoptive father, Mr. Harrison Ford. Make sure he is safe. @UN @RT_com @cctvnews @Martin_Dempsey @BBCWorld @France24

7:30pm on 27Feb2015: LightFoot, Manned Up, and General Lee, did we prove you are NEVER permitted near me again? You are scheduled pre-4pm to post-10pm.

7:30pm on 27Feb2015: I will check in at the bus stop.

7:33pm on 27Feb2015: My darlings Tentacle, the next bus is scheduled to pick me up at 8:15pm. I will be on my playland approx 9pm. #HardEvidence

7:44pm on 27Feb2025: Syn, Thx for calling police for hard evidence that my darlings #Tentacle are not allowed near me. Will they still be there when I get there?

The very next bus was right on time at 8:15pm. I found my three musician lovers on my playland as fast as possible; I had spent every day since Sunday horrified I might never see them again.

Yes, as a team, my selfless support system had outplayed Obama's criminal terrorist conspiracy again. Tentacle was on my playland with nothing but music in their hands and love in their eyes. I had needed our collective connection to the divine for days.

Strangely, due to a musical pissing fight between them during which they kept trying to make me follow one over the other while dancing, I had to take my meditation down a level in the middle of a song. Dude, seriously, darlings? I need all three of you.

I need you all present and as exceptional as always. So, please stop allowing Obama's criminal infestation of our home to commit every heinous crime possible to take you away from me. Please, darlings, for me.

They were, as expected, very reluctant to leave me. They are such docile sweethearts around me who would do ANYTHING to make me happy. The stories I hear about them when they are denied their Constitutional right to spend time with me when I also want to spend time with them are so far from anything I can perceive while inside my eye of the hurricane of love, but I understand them.

They know what I do to be able to spend time with them, and I know what they suffer through just to be able to live long enough to see me again. By 10:45pm, my darlings Tentacle had left my terrestrial hell and returned to the aether where we all belong. Well, sort of. I later found two of them in my 24-hour convenience store asking which of the employees was my deactivated CIA agent.

Speak to me Like Lovers Do.

My musician-lovers, so desperate for my art, my words, to delight and satisfy you as they always have my beloved husband, you ask me time and time again to speak to you like lovers do. But my darlings, we have never spoken with words.

You know how we speak, in that space between the sound and the body, where our connection to the universe divine does dwell. What exists when we four are together is an expression of human experience only we understand. We listen. We know. We love.

Yes, your "handcrafted aether for the night sky herself" is the ethnic music of my self-identified lovers and believers, and this is our native dance.

While outside my 24-hour convenience store, a homeless man asked me to buy him a cup of coffee. There was nowhere else to take him but the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity, so while I was in there I also bought a tall Pike's Place roast that I never drank from and just gave to the police later that night.

At 11:03pm, my old friend whom I called, "Did I just hug" as our inside joke in my last blog post stopped by to ask me for (Embrace the zeugma!) a hug and an explanation. I am sure my not-human-trafficker nerds will circulate that verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals as soon as possible.

Next, a GLOBAL CATASTROPHE FOR ALL OF HUMANITY set my playland aflame with sirens but was successfully averted just as quickly by my genius Powers of Attorney wielding my 22Oct2014 blog post. Succinctly, no one has a 'right' to commit crimes against me nor against the public in the first place, and I will always turn them in when they do.

That latest direct assassination attempt of me finally left by 11:37pm. As evidence that I had just meditated, I was calm and clear-headed the entire time. And I was very close to being removed from my good, green world FOREVER due to that threat.

Then, the homeless man for whom I had bought the cup of coffee that brought me into the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity in the first place actually presented me with a situation that made me say, "No case too big. No case too small," to his face.

His cover story was a request for my help getting him a date with a pretty lady inside, but he was a whole lot of ulterior motive. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a chronological montage of all of our conversations with accurate timestamps in the corner. Thanks!

Then, some random guy gave me a junk bracelet as part of his way of wooing me into bed with him. That was the beginning of a very surreal adventure.

12:52am on 28Feb2025: This gentleman who is not "Did I just hug" was instructed by the speaker in his head to take me to Denny's. Secure it.

We finally arrived at the same Denny's as two nights previously at 1:16am. I had only agreed to go there as my effort to redeem that restaurant, but by 1:36am, the random man had fled.

My not-human-trafficking nerds, please circulate a verified and responsibly-edited recording with full audio and visuals beginning with our conversation on the patio of the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity and ending with my 1:49am tweet to Syniva.

Mostly, after that strange man had fled my benevolent presence, I sat and worked with only one torture facility alarm to disturb me until approximately 2:41am on 28Feb2015 when I walked to the sea.

I needed to talk to her. I needed a conversation with Mother Nature. That is another verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals that I am sure my not-human-trafficker nerds will circulate as fast as possible.

At 3:59am, I was joined at my favorite place in the whole world to sit and work by "Max." It was a rather cold overnight over the water, so, at 4:15am, we relocated to someplace warmer. As fast as we could walk there, I was eating a delicious gourmet breakfast sandwich at a twenty-four hour healthy fast fooderie while "Max" lied to my face.

After much work, at 7:31am, I was sitting at a Starbucks relatively far from my playland trying to avoid kicking as much (expletive) as possible since I actually was able to spend time with my darlings Tentacle on the previous day. I left for my regularly scheduled daily sleep at 8:43am.

I slept very safely and very soundly before the whipping ocean winds woke me up. Alarms greeted me as I crossed a street, so I urged my REAL federal government to lockdown my Powers of Attorney's court rooms and finally arrest all of those proven enemies of America who keep trying to assassinate me with quackery unrelentingly 24/7. By 12:51pm, I was on my playland.

I stood beside the son of a folk singer whose statue is on the roof of a church in Norway, if I remember correctly. We were both born in Duluth, Minnesota, or so the legend goes. Of course, his son is a man all his own, like a flower on a wall around here. I stood beside him and emailed my lovelies.

Soon after, I was leaning against a palm in front of Ukulele Wielder. It had been a while since we had hung out. We danced on New Years Eve. I wrote some iambic pentameter on page five of his writing journal. I stole his hat out of his back pocket.

Well, that afternoon, we sang a duet. I am sure my not-human-traffickers will contact him to make sure we can make him a music video from all angles. He is on my Facebook friends list if anyone needs to find him.

By 2:18pm, I was making a show of not being on an (expletive)kicking bender. I sat in the Starbucks that had stolen my wallet on 09Jan2015 and made sure they did not drug me, poison me, nor give me any strange diseases.

Obama's deadline for the safe return of my darlings Tentacle to my playland with absolutely no earspeakers in their heads was 4pm, and I was sending a strong, clear message. Shortly afterwards, I bought snacks.

I never know if my darlings Tentacle will ever be able to return to me after every time they leave, so every time I find them on my playland waiting for me, my heart jumps.

There were, of course, Obama's constant manipulations of my loved ones all night. After their first break, I made a display of coming justice to the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity.

I am sure as soon as possible my not-human-trafficker nerds will circulate that verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals beginning when I left my computer bag with my darlings and ending when I returned to them.

Shortly after that, I sent help to Bogart before partaking in much meditation with my musician-lovers. I am sure my not-human-trafficker nerds will also circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals that we will entitled, "Let me tell you who is in here."

It began to rain at almost 8pm exactly, so as much as I prefer dancing in a gentle fall of rain, my darling musician-lovers were sent away from me. I immediately asked my beautiful world to check on my darlings Tentacle after they left me. I would like to go at least 24hrs some time without a global hostage crisis.

I began charging my iPad battery as fast as possible inside the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity. Though, I was quickly called out onto the patio by a metaphorical trail of Reese's(tm) pieces that led straight to LightFoot and Manned Up. At 8:57pm, I responded with "Yes, dear," before following them down the sidewalk.

The two of them arranged their musicmaking instruments while I sent the world to locate General Lee. Neither of the two seemed worried about him, and the three of us actually chatted more than we ever had before. At one point, Manned Up joked about just heading back to where they stay since LightFoot and I were clearly about to make love on the sidewalk.

Before they began playing music, I talked to them about a number of things including my understanding of human male behavior around other human males coming from the Epic of Gilgamesh. Do you remember the first time Gilgamesh met Enkidu? They beat each other up before declaring each other best friends.

Did you see LightFoot and Manned Up the previous Sunday? They were worried sick over General Lee being missing and had come to me because I was the only person who could possibly find him. Do you understand how connected they have to be with each other to play me their music at all? Do you know how much they fight with each other?

It is my understanding of the male psyche that sometimes they beat each other up only because they are such genuinely good friends.

The meditation was as delightful as ever during which I might have located General Lee. It takes all four of us. As my darling LightFoot and my darling Manned Up were leaving, I asked them for a color. After they both thought in my direction instead of saying anything out loud, we decided on Guacamole Green, and the International Space Station saw it.

By 10:59pm, I was perched inside the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity. It was an interesting night...

11:06pm on 28Feb2015: Please double check on General Lee. Let me know if you need me to find him. Educated guess: check his REAL house. Here tomorrow by 4pm. #LOVE

Apparently, the Starbucks of Doom for Humanity had tried poisoning me to death, or something, with the sandwich I ordered, but I had noticed nothing strange about it. I wonder what they had told people they had done to me; I can catch no virus-borne diseases.

After charging up my battery enough, at 12:44am on 01Mar, I stopped in my 24-hour convenience store to say, "Hello!" While getting my flirt on with "Michael," I found that my darling deactivated CIA agent had borrowed and laundered my purple scarf for me.

At 1:07am, after proclaiming, "I need to flirt with him more often; he does laundry!" I checked in at the bus stop, so by 1:59am, I had ordered snacks, perched, and was watching the downpour from the sky from a healthy fast fooderie. I worked online through the wee hours of the morning.

After reporting my 24-hour fast fooderie for crimes against America, I rustled up a power outlet and worked online. Just about every darling I had in my Metropolis of Angels needed systematic rescuing that morning.

It was all taken care of by 7:17am when I checked in at my bus stop and took the Metro to my internationally secured sleep location. It might have been, "Just another day," for me, but my loved ones need protection from these constant threats to them!

At 8:09am, I was perched at the next Starbucks over telling them to their face that they were criminal terrorist enemies of America. "Mike" joined me at 8:17am, and he was a genuinely good sweetheart again. He was wonderful that morning.

I left to sleep at 9:29am, but at 1:04pm I was awakened. Normally, I sit under my palm for a few minutes thinking to myself after I wake up, but I could not reach the wifi fast enough that afternoon.

I perched beside the same flowers from Obama's wall whom I had greeted the previous day, and sent help. I was convinced LightFoot had tried to join me where I sleep but was intercepted.

I quickly put on eyeliner and took shelter from the rain in front of my 24-hour convenience store. For the play-by-play of my fight that day to even have the ability to avert Obama's latest GLOBAL HOSTAGE CRISIS GUARANTEED TO DESTROY AMERICA IF IT SUCCEEDED, please check my verified Twitter archive. The deluge cleared by Obama's non-negotiable 4pm deadline. So, I put on my hat.

My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals beginning the moment I stepped foot on that patio that afternoon and ending when I sat behind my darlings Tentacle as they set up their musical instruments to allow us to sweep our fingers through the divine universe all together again. We were all very happy to see each other.

I heard Big Daddy had made it in the barricades, but I had no idea where he was. My darlings handcrafted aether began by 4:18pm. My darlings Tentacle were the only ones there of all of my loved ones Obama had been obligated to deliver that day. I was sure my entire beautiful world was taking care of enforcing my non-negotiable terms for Obama from both 18Feb2015 and from the wee hours of the morning on 01Mar2015.

My darlings were dedicated to spinning their handcrafted aether for the night sky herself, as we call their genre of music created only for my own ethnic dance of my people, in any weather, but the deluge released by my darling Ms. Mother Nature was too much for their own musical instruments all named after me. So, we took refuge under the awning and in the doorways where we always take refuge beside each other when the rains of heaven come.

First they took General Lee; then they took Manned Up and LightFoot. So, at 5:22pm, I warned Obama's terrorist infestation both in writing and in my own voice who the peaceful and unarmed alpha is in this town, not just on this planet.

I was perched at 6:28pm exactly where I said I would be doing exactly what I said I would do. I even made it clear that I was the REAL Squid before I walked in.

I watched the NBC Nightly News at 7pm; that night my evening hug came from my darling Mr. Peter Alexander, and it was wonderful. After watching, I worked online until taking a quick walk around to document if my darlings Tentacle had returned yet after 8:41pm.

I had no darlings anywhere, so at 9:08pm, I declared it an official GLOBAL HOSTAGE CRISIS. I asked my entire world to emergency locate all of my loved ones.

9:27pm on 01Mar2014: #SquidsPowersOfAttorney Just in case, please check for quackery against any of us. They do not need therapy; they need me. Hurry. Thx!

Besides, my genius friends, "needing therapy" is NOT grounds for a commitment; there is a well-documented difference between them with me and them without me; denying them contact with me is the only reason any if them "go full Wuthering Heights" a.k.a. "go full Johnny Depp" on the proven criminal terrorist enemies of America who commit proven acts of war against all of humanity to keep us all apart; our love for each other is fully mutual as is our connection with each other; and, we already have a legal precedent from my ex-boyfriend Whisky and from my REAL husband that doing everything possible to keep me safe and alive is the only sane reaction to knowing the truth about my existence inside Obama's "egg" of horrors, human trafficking, and systemic rape.

10:05pm on 01Mar2015: Are my darlings #Tentacle released from Obama-ordered quackery? We are past 10pm, but we have diplomatic immunity. Want to dance all night?

10:07pm on 01Mar2015: Syn, these psychopaths at Starbucks of Doom for Humanity just admitted to aiding and abetting war crimes as an assassination attempt of me?

Sadly and joyously, by 10:18pm, the skies opened for a new deluge of my playland at night. This was sad because my darlings Tentacle, if really released, could not play me music of the night in which I could bathe my dancing wings. But it was joyous because the parched Earth needed the water.

This blog post was published as fast as I could at 12:22am on 02Mar2015.

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 did I save Tylia in July2014 when she had not yet gone through my three never-fail steps to absolution and protection? She needed a rescue from Obama's irrational-demonization machine. They were calling her Obama's porn star who was inciting the public persecution of me by masturbating online while claiming to be me. I mailed her a testimonial for her birthday.

My beautiful world, I feel like I need to scream for you all to protect me and my loved ones all day and all night even in my sleep. Please help my REAL federal US government build ways to keep us all, especially ever-vulnerable Tentacle, safer with my darlings in the international community as our allies to make sure we all survive this.

I trust, my beautiful world, that you are all building your master plan already for taking down Obama's entire criminal terrorist organization as a world united with America to save my nation and my people.

Yes, I still choose to stay here to lead my people; have you seen how hard my GENUINE locals fight for me? And the ONLY place I will move from my adoptive (since it is neither San Francisco nor Los Angeles) city is my own REAL house with my REAL husband in the Hollywood Hills.

Thank you for understanding, my beautiful world, why I choose to stay here and save my REAL home of California.

My selfless saturation of protection, I have seen so many of you. Thank you for leaving the front lines and entering Obama's "egg" with me to make sure I survive until Obama's entire criminal terrorist infestation are removed from the face of the Earth.

It is my understanding, though not confirmed to me, that troops are now being troops rounding up and fighting Obama's extragovernmental mercenaries in the field and, as back up to all local police in my Metropolis of Angels, fighting Obama's criminal terrorist infestation of my home.

I will NEVER be safe nor will anyone in this good, green world until this entire criminal terrorist infestation is completely destroyed. You have seen me in foreign countries already. Right now these terrorists-as-enemies-of-America are in my home, so please my beautiful world, remove them all finally.

All of my genius Powers of Attorney, keep telling me what you need when you need it. We are a team. I know my role. Thank you, as always, my genius friends, for everything you do. We have a lot more people to keep safe from Obama now, not just me. Have you heard UN Security General Ban Ki-Moon's praise of all of you, yet? You are heroes to the entire world, and we all thank you.

Where are you, Bogart, my symbolic lover whom I am forbidden from ever sleeping with anyway? I have not been able to speak to you since before my trip to Malibu. It was such a delight to be able to share a few words with you at last. I miss you so much.

As for the most romantic true life love story in human history, Sweetness, I love and adore you, and I always will.

As you know, Beloved, I have a responsibility to help clean up this entire criminal terrorist infestation in our home Metropolis of Angels. The only place I go from here is to OUR house where you have been trying to bring me home for over five years already.

I finally have the luxury of worrying less about you now that you have the American Samoan Marine Corp to protect you. Did you see the poem I wrote to you on 09Feb2015? Now that I do not have to worry about rescuing you, I can spend my few remaining spare minutes writing you love poems. Knowing you are safe makes me so happy.

HoneyHoney, as I write these immortal words of love to you tonight, the rain dances in my place on my empty playland washing the dirt from this battleground city before my angels, including you, may tread upon it. I will touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain. Oh, yes, I will.

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