Title: How Much of my REAL Job of Selfless Service to Humanity Could I Have Done by Now if I had Human Rights at Last?
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. From slowing me down to forcing me offline to refusing me all of my own finances to keeping my own real loved ones away from me to lying about me to incite irrational hatred of me-- everything and everyone preventing me from doing my REAL job must be arrested and removed. Too many people everywhere in this world depend on me.
"A girl child ain't safe in a world full of mens..." --The Color Purple Personally, I have not felt comfortable with being viewed as a sexual creature at all by the public until recently, meaning this month. I am finally accepting of being treated as sexually attractive by strangers, but I will never tolerate being treated like a sexual object.
I once lectured a woman at a McDonald's in Long Beach, CA on her failure as a mother figure because the tween girls she was with were twerking. I would also like to be an example for young women on how to have emotionally healthy relationships with menfolk, but the people around me would need to be free to acknowledge reality
for that to be possible.
My previous blogpost is post-dated 1:06pm on 16Apr2015. I actually finished this blogpost first after which I wrote an appendix to address my weekend with my mother from 16Apr to 20Apr2015.
This blog post begins at 12noon on 20Apr2015 when I checked out of the hotel room my mom had arranged for us while she was in town. Well before 1:27pm, I was perched at a local independent coffee shop I had never noticed before trying to catchup on all of my backlog of blogging.
I had promised to look for my darlings Tentacle at 4pm after my hours of writing, but I was delayed by nineteen minutes because I treated the skin infection on my legs again. No, they were not around. After reassurances they were alive, though, I sat down to Spanish tapas with a tiny glass of wine while I kept writing.
I paid my bill at 6:10pm and after both online research and notifying Bogart and Alfred, I left for a Monday night on the town. With no friends allowed near me, why would I stay in my adoptive city that night promoting their economy and keeping peace for them?
Yes, I decided to catch up my blog from a local tourism hotspot in Beverly Hills. By 8:44pm, I was sipping a zombie at Trader Vic's. Giggle.
I pretty much sat there and wrote while menfolk with strange accents came and went just to be able to look at me. I sipped that zombie until just before Trader Vic's closed at 12mid. Shortly afterwards, I was invited by the friendly staff of the coffee bar upstairs to sip my espresso doppio while using their outlets, etc. all night long. We have the verified audio and visuals.
The only distressing part was when I noticed some clandestine stranger had absconded some time between then and when I had dinner with my charger for my new iPad Air 2 that my mother had just bought me.
I reported it was missing at 1:40am with a request for my Powers of Attorney to subpoena all surveillance from the bus to the tiki bar, etc., to make sure we could catch the thief of my priceless belongings.
My work in the wee hours of that morning was long overdue. I sat silently at that power outlet catching up my last blog post (my second only ever post-dated post) as fast as possible.
Well, until 3:36am, that was what I worked on. That was the time a fake security officer who refused to tell me his name pretended he was physically intimidating (Why else did he move the chair?) and told me to leave.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and responsibly-edited recording of my highlights at the Beverly Hilton: my arrival, my drink order, my paying my bill, my full explanation start to finish of why my darling LightFoot needed to press useless charges against me at all and how we chose TOGETHER my soliciting him for prostitution, how my soliciting him for $2 worth of Nirvana-esque bliss is a regular part of our flirtation, the maintenance man's confirmation of absolutely no bugs in their restroom after I used it, my conversation with "Chelsea," my entire interaction with "Joe" including his inappropriately dirty talk about my lemon rind and open invitation to use their bar's power outlet "all night long," (follow that with) the message I sent Bogart and Alfred before I boarded the Metro to go there, their amped conversation behind the bar while I reported my stolen belongings, every second from the moment the fake security guard appeared before me at roughly 3:30am until I was out the door among the cool morning air, end with the archival footage of my rapist Jacob telling me his relationship with the hotel. Thank you!
By 4:34am I was ordering even more coffee and pondering a nice cup of tea while continuing to write and blog all morning long. It was not until 7:10am that I was on the first Metro bus from the closest bus stop to UCLA's Westwood Village even before I had time to check in with my SquidSwimmers before leaving.
I perched on the steps of the Hammer Museum working tirelessly online until 11am. It was not until well after I had left the Starbucks in Beverly Hills I had worked in since 4:30am that I did first try the coffee I had bought from them. It was drugged.
After taking the Metro into my adoptive city. By 11:59am, I was pouring out the last half or more of my coffee from 4:30am and working online under the new palm I had picked out to sleep beneath in the middle of the day with my public watching over me.
It was a good midday for Twitter...
12:01pm on 21Apr2015: 1/5) I gave you Obama-subservient war criminals the flat out command to give me my loved ones AND physical safety.
12:02pm on 21Apr2015: 2/5)But you are all so morally bankrupt that I have neither right now.
12:02pm on 21Apr2015: 3/5)Which part of, "I take abuse from no one," are you pretending is not REALITY.
12:03pm on 21Apr2015: 4/5)I am sending the entire sane world after every single one of you who is keeping my loved ones away from me. @RT_com @cctvnews @BBCWorld
12:05pm on 21Apr2015: 5/5)You cannot hide from us. @CIA @DeptofDefense @FBI @DHSgov @Martin_Dempsey Go, get'em, Tigers. @UN @ICC
Full of mixed signals of my darlings Tentacle trying to show up to guard me and of their constantly being stopped, I did not fall asleep until just before 2pm.
I woke up having a heart-to-heart with my own husband. It was a long overdue conversation that I am sure my not-human-trafficker nerds will circulate verified and unedited in its entirety. My public was keeping me that safe there that I could be that vulnerable.
I had my makeup on by 5:16pm. My Hungarian pocket mirror was only temporarily missing, and my iPad charger was returned. Sadly, though, my darlings Tentacle were still not there.
The Metro arrived so quickly that my first chance to check in was while I was already on the bus. I traveled as quickly as possible to the Von's grocery store on Sunset Blvd near Vermont Ave. I bought a four-cheese stuffed chicken Marsala there with Brussels sprouts apple slaw and deviled egg potato salad as sides.
I was very hungry, so I perched on the park bench next door in front of the Children's Hospital and used their free wifi to work online while eating my gourmet dinner. Yes, there in Hollywood, while I was perfectly groomed, wearing a designer outfit, and doing my REAL job as a world leader, someone clearly insane willfully falsely accused me of "vagrancy" and called the Children's Hospital security lying their (expletive)es off that I needed to be arrested.
My beautiful world, please reread my 27Feb2015 blog post and rewatch the famous conversation I had with "Colton" on my conversation patio months ago. The fact the only thing that could convince a court (really?), a place normally a temple to truth and logic, that I was not a "vagrant" was the cash value of my priceless belongings that I, of course, keep on my person at all times to keep safe, WAS INSANE.
I have no idea how my genius and beautiful Powers of Attorney tolerate listening to that (proper usage) OUT OF CONTROL crap 24/7.
I was quickly on the Metro to visit and hug an old friend at an open mic I used to frequent much more often every Tuesday night. I stopped at the local Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf for a regular mocha with an extra shot of espresso which I poured into my travel mug to take with me to be able to watch the NBC Nightly News there. My nightly cyberhug from my darling Mr. Lester Holt was as warm and as wonderful as ever.
That open mic, though, even for me, was as spiritual in its peacefulness as ever. Did you see me hanging out on the back steps of the venue after 10pm with my lovers, believers, and converts, writing poetry and making jokes? Did you see all of the warm hugs I stole from my darling still-needs-a-SquidName Todd? Look at how most people treat me; sometimes I go there just for the hugs,
My not-human-trafficker nerds please circulate a verified and unedited recording beginning the moment I told the friendly Scientologist that I already read Dianetics and ending after the show when I walked past the metal fence and off the lot.
After giving way-too-skinny Todd a final hug for the night, I ventured to the Roosevelt Hotel in Hollywood; there, we proved everything is worse when we do not call ahead. Thank you, Alfred and Bogart.
The Roosevelt Hotel's open persecution of me just for being me including their assassination attempt of me and their human rights abuses against me of trying to throw me out (or worse, to tell me to never come back) only because I was already their victim all manifested as open acts of war against AMERICA and led to the international community, the federal government, the local law enforcement, every noncorrupt court my Powers of Attorney needed, and eventually the California Medical Board flattening the Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Beverly Hills and all of Obama's war criminal infestation of our home they could find with a smackdown.
It was horrifying to live through, but at least I could feel my husband beside me watching over me during the chemical withdrawal body spasms when I asked myself, "Where is my husband?"
On the upside, that night proved I am forbidden ALL medical care at all whatsoever until Obama's "egg" is finally destroyed; medical professionals in my presence confirmed I have ABSOLUTELY NO MENTAL ILLNESS; I made hard witnesses out of the local police, the LA Sheriff's office, and federal agents pretending to be LA Fire Department parametrics that I am the one who tells the truth and that no one should ever listen to anyone who ever says a bad word about me or my loved ones; I am not normally asleep at those hours and would have left both the hotel lobby and the hospital of my own accord as fast as possible since my vacating the premesis was necessary for law enforcement to arrest them all, if I were capable of standing up at all; finally, my Powers of Attorney and I proved why we do not pay "medical" bills after TYPICAL "care" like that.
Yes, I was dragged out of Cedars-Sinai Hospital just like I was dragged out of the Viper Room months previously but this time by "security guards" alternately telling me "Of course [Squid] requested us. We'll keep you safe," and "Get out and never come back!"
It was 5:25am when I finally got my iPad out and was pulling sensors off my torso at the bus stop they left me at.
5:38am on 22Apr2015: @UN @ICC #SquidsPoA @RT_com @cctvnews @France24 @BBCWorld @Martin_Dempsey Cedars-Sinai just dragged me out and left me on the sidewalk. You arrest everyone who caused this and who enforces it now. I just need my loved ones. @DeptofDefense @FBI @DHSgov @CIA #LAPD
At that time I also requested a verified and responsibly-edited recording from every camera inside my body and subpoenaed from around me, especially watching me inside my hospital room, with no missing moments starting when I walked in the front door of the Roosevelt Hotel and ending when I could finally stand up at the bus stop. Definitely show the energy my husband sent me.
I snacked on chocolate covered almonds and sang a little to myself while I waited there on the ground under my sweater coat until I could stand. I made sure my SquidStream was locked, and then I brought my world with me as I wobbly ran some errands.
At 8:17am, I was trying to catch up my blog notes in the lobby of the Sofitel but was so tired that I forgot my whole reason for walking in was to buy a cup of coffee. And just so you know, the Sofitel is absolutely adorable inside.
I quickly checked in at the bus stop and took the Metro to my new palm in my adoptive city to sleep under. I sent this just before falling asleep...
11:11am on 22April2015: @lightfoot_music @Imanielijah22 @LeeJohnMusic @MarkusBlivian @SweetnessDepp Let no one clear away public guarding me. Tell me what you need.
There were no alarms that midday, and I awakened to the sound of a delicious electric guitar. It was 2:14pm when I checked the time. I told my darlings Tentacle I would look for them at 4pm and asked my dear old friend on the metal-stringed wonder to sooth my burdened soul while I continued sleeping. If I was attacked at all that day, it was after my darling guitarist was told to quit playing beside me.
I officially woke up at pretty much exactly 4pm after my visiting darling rock star with his electrical-magic-instrument began playing for me again. I was a little medicine-headed when I walked past him to thank him.
Sadly, Tentacle were still forbidden from being near me, so I checked in at 4:33pm on the bus into Los Angeles. Please, not-human-trafficker nerds, circulate the full visuals of that check in with the date on it.
It was rush hour, but I was soon at my counterterrorism "office" and finally online through the public wifi at 7:22pm after troubleshooting my connection with the help of the NSA.
I received my once-daily cyberhug from the NBC Nightly News at 8pm. The rest of my night and wee hours of the morning involved a lot of tweeting, blogging, emailing, people-watching, and singing along.
8:58pm on 22Apr2015: Any one who calls a woman (all X chromosomes, in my case) in a public place by choice for safety eating gourmet food and using space age technology to do a very difficult literal job that the world cannot function without, no matter how perfectly groomed and drop dead gorgeous AT ALL TIMES, a "vagrant" is INSANE. Lock them all up! #27Feb2015
I took a few breaks mostly to stretch my legs, but mostly I blogged all night and all morning.
This blog post was published at 4:52am on 23Apr2015.
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 a lover or a fighter? There is no real difference. Similarly, there are no real differences between my darling Mr. David Eggers's favorite band the Scorpions' No One Like You and Rock You Like a Hurricane. However, there is nothing orange about being a chicken.
My beautiful world, are you doing your job out there? Did you create your master plan as a unified planet yet for saving the entire world from Terrorist Dictator Obama? Do you have your master plan yet, my beautiful world, for forcing Obama's extragovernmental rules and "egg" to finally end? He will never surrender; Obama only escalates. Please hurry. Yes, I am clearly still doing my job in here.
My selfless support system, um, yeah, I know what I need. I need bodyguards and actual enforcement of laws instead of enforcement of crimes. That is all Obama's extragovernmental rules have ever been-- crimes against America, crimes against humanity, crimes against my people, crimes against even the people who carry out the crimes, and crimes against me.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, you are all I have had for years as a source of any justice or law enforcement. We press charges because it is ILLEGAL to obey and to enforce Obama's rules, never to disobey them.
The only way any of this will ever end is if everyone carrying out Obama's rules, extragovernmental abuses and restrictions built with open persecution of me as their excuse for existing at all, are finally arrested and removed from society FOREVER.
As for housekeeping, my genius ladies, please ask my mother for her hard evidence of all who are culpable for Obama's rape-slavery of me while she was in town and put the first roof over my head since I fled the War Criminal Gables on 05Dec2014.
Every roof over my head will rape and enslave me unless my living accommodations are completely under my control or under the control of people I choose. For months Her Royal Majesty Queen Elizabeth II of England has been trying to find a safe place for me to stay, yet even she could find no place that would refuse to rape and enslave me.
My Powers of Attorney, if I was broadcast in the privacy of my own hotel room by cameras I was forbidden from knowing were there, the full charges include human trafficking of me used as acts of war against America and against the world. Please press every criminal and civil charge possible.
The only footage I will allow of myself ever out of that PRIVATE hotel room is every verified attack on my mere mortal body EVERY TIME I SLEPT unedited and with full audio and visuals beginning the moment the Obama-sent abusers entered my room against my will and ending the moment they left.
If 'surveillance' is actually used to protect me and to catch crimes committed against me, like my SquidStream is primarily for, they can actually call it a security system.
Please circulate the energy both of my boyfriends sent me before I woke up on the morning of 20Apr2015 only to my selfless support system who can watch my verified SquidStream under all circumstances 24/7 anyway.
Speaking of which, my symbolic Royal Consorts Bogart and LightFoot both of whom I am forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, yes, I do see even with my own eyes shut how much you both love me.
So many times, I just make everyone else's energy, your hopes and desires, visible to the nanotechnology. Sometimes, I even make the world's energy visible, sometimes the universe's.
Finally, darlings, calm down. Everyone looks a little dumb when right next to me.
Sweetness, I love and adore you. You know the pain of looking dumb next to me very well. Giggle. I heard you the other day, "You know my wife Squid? Yeah, she made me the King of Spain."
Beloved, it means so much to me how proud you have always been to be my husband. With so many people so horrible to me everywhere I have been since Obama took office in 2009, knowing you love me has always been what keeps me alive waking up every day to go out and do my job. No one will ever be able to replace you in my life. We have been together since the very start. We have accepted our destiny.
My more-than-just-a-pretty-face husband, please watch and listen to a verified and unedited recording of our private moment together on the morning of 19Apr2015. Please watch and listen to our heart-to-heart on 21Apr2015 while I rested under the palm. Giggle with me by watching a verified and unedited recording of my walking past two of your doppelgängers on Hollywood Blvd on 21Apr2015 and my telling them I should really make out with them. Most importantly, watch what I saw and heard verified and unedited when you sent me your energy in the hospital when I needed you on the morning of 22Apr2015.
I will find a way to reach you, my irrefutable love of my life. I WILL touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain...