Title: Squid, Inc.
Please access my iCloud if necessary to publish this post now, my friends. 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 would like to take a few minutes right now to organize my nonprofit Squid, Inc. I laid out a few guidelines for my employees in my 19Aug2015 and 30Jan2016 blog posts, but now that I have an official nonprofit, here is what I want for it.
Please hire my darling Mr. Finn "Alfred" O'Mahoney as my personal assistant and my darling Mrs. Evilia "StitchQueen" Sandall as my stylist. Let someone other than my husband organize my closet for me.
Please ask my darling Ms. Sandra "Bella" Oxford to be the VP of Human Resources. Please ask my darling Ms. Gwen "Molly" Armbruster to be the VP of Sales & Marketing. I would really like my darling Mr. Christian "Sniper" Laffey as VP of Film & Television.
Please ask my darling Ms. Kelli Rae "KRage" Powell if she will be VP of Music & Voice Recordings. My darling Mr. Erik "'Dabs" Sandall is VP of Publishing; we do not need to ask-- he would do anything for me.
And, since she coded her first website at fourteen years old, please ask my little sister, my darling Ms. Tylia "FinalDraft" Varilek to be our VP of Online Content.
I want to make my BFF, my darling Ms. Syniva "SynSyn" Whitney, the CEO. Yes, Synny, you are an official media mogul now.
I have absolutely no idea if Squid, Inc. is going to make any money. Absolutely no one who works for me including my receptionist makes less than $75,000 a year, and people pretty much get to set their own salaries.
But all profits fund the foundation Syniva built for me after we won our first $5B+ lawsuit, the foundation I asked my darling Mr. Tavis Smiley and my darling Dr. Cornel West to run for me fighting poverty in America.
Syria. I have not heard an update on the resolution to the civil war in Syria in a long time. The last I heard, the United Nations had passed a resolution laying out its end, and Russia had adopted my policy on ending the civil war.
My darling Foreign Minister Lavrov was pushing for a unity government in six months and a complete power transition in 1.5 years. What is going on? And does anyone need my help with anything?
The Tropical Climate. Sweetness, we have got to do something about the Zika pandemic. Are you okay with donating $10B worth of mosquito nets and insect repellent to the World Health Organization over the next three years?
It is just a bandaid on the problem; we just need to keep everyone as healthy as possible until the scientists can figure out how to fight the disease. Thank you for never letting me down, my king.
India. My darlings in India, we fall in love with another soul not with our spouse's body. Please do not criminalize your LGBTQ community. When was the last time you read your holy book the Kama Sutra? The unabridged version includes acts of love between same-sex couples.
My last blog post was finished at 9:30am on Wednesday, 03Feb2016. My internet gnomes played me the Immigrant Song by my darlings Led Zeppelin. I tweeted my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies at 9:37am.
It was a very productive morning. I got a lot of writing done there outside of the Pico Branch Library while singing to myself a little. I left for my place at 11:41am.
Lunch at noon was seafood salad, so since I cannot eat seafood, my neighbor Gary loaned me $3 to go buy some lunch. I bought some cookies and was inside the Pico Branch Library working by 12:32pm.
I made sure I told my darling Mr. Finn "Alfred" O'Mahoney where I would be that night. Then, I caught up with my evening talk show hosts before cranking the volume on my internet gnomes to get some writing done. I was even able to stream the most recent episode of Grimm.
Dinner at 5pm was tasty and peppered with Josh's unsolicited advances. I was on the bus to Hollywood by 5:20pm. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording beginning when I exited the bus and ending when I got back on the bus.
I was on my way to the Wednesday night open mic at the Pig & Whistle. I had my only date with my darling Bogart there in Nov2014.
Sadly, Bogart was blocked from joining me there that night, and my darling Mr. Todd Taylor no longer manned the soundboard on Wednesdays.
I stuck my head in to see who was around before walking around the Chinese Theater and hopping on the bus back to Santa Monica. Yes, I do cross town every once in a while. I should really get out more often.
I was back at my place snacking on cookies and reading a little Rumi by 8:56pm. I slept very well that night and woke up on Thursday, 04Feb2016, in time for breakfast.
I was perched outside of the Pico Branch Library by 8:37am. My internet gnomes played me Amor Prohibido by my darling late Selena as I sipped my coffee. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies really showed off my pirate-worthy eyeliner that morning.
I had a lot of writing to do. It is not like my blog writes itself. I sat smithing words and singing to myself outside of the library until 9:59am when I returned to The Manor for money draw.
Money draw is a service my board & care provides. They make sure all residents have at least $131 a month for us to buy clothes, shoes, phone bills, bus fare, and entertainment that they cannot provide themselves.
After we pick up our money we run around paying back everyone we had to borrow money from to get by. Just $131 is not much to live on for one month.
I was back outside the Pico Branch Library by 10:47am when I watched NBC Nightly News from the previous evening online. My morning cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester Holt, and it made me want to SquidName him G.I. Joe. Knowing is half the battle.
I sat with Humberto and Delano for lunch at noon and was inside the Pico Branch Library by 12:21pm working online again. I waited until after 1pm to catch up with my late night talk show hosts because I had some odds and ends to take care of at The Manor after they were done serving lunch.
My mail from my mother, Mrs. Diñadar "CosmicGrandma" Varilek, arrived that day. I called her to let her know I received it and to thank her. I know a lot of companies wish they could give me gift cards; just mail them all to my mom.
I was back at the branch library quickly and watched the previous evening's Late Show, Late Late Show, Daily Show, and Nightly Show. I also watched the first half of the Saturday Night Live episode from 23Jan2016. When I lived in EVIL Iowa, all of my friends were on television; the locals were all so mean to me.
I sat with Luis and Chris for dinner at 5pm and was on a bus to my Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade by 5:12pm.
I found my darling Mrs. Patricia "GrandMaMa" [I have never asked her last name.] almost instantly. She was listening to my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw. Kaila's mom Faye was also out and about on the Promenade.
Patricia was raving about some sort of state-of-the-art steam iron the kiosk next to us was selling as we walked the Promenade chatting on our way for coffee.
After checking around for my darling TambourineKicker, I sat down for more chatting with GrandMaMa at 6:32pm beside where my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw's was playing music.
When I relocated to the best Starbucks in the world inside the Santa Monica Place, I had a little chat with one of their employees Ricky before streaming the news.
Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. My evening cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me grab my heart. Thank you, my darling NBC News team.
I was back beside Kaila for her last song before she moved down the street at 8pm. After I spun around my Promenade checking who was playing music where, I perched at Kaila's new spot outside of the Apple Store and did a little writing while she played.
I also had a nice chat with Kaila's mother Faye. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please circulate a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of our conversation beginning when Faye walked over to me and ending when I waved goodnight to Kaila. Thank you.
Eventually, I caught the 10:05pm bus back to my place, but it had mechanical difficulties. It was the last Big Blue Bus Rapid 7, as opposed to Big Blue Bus 7, of the night, so they sent a replacement bus. The driver was very professional and courteous. We were on our way at 10:27pm.
This blog post was finished at 12:30am from my bedroom on Friday, 05Feb2016.
[Please embed a highlights reel of my last two days here.]
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 do I no longer have a mobile phone? Obama microcontrols all human contact with me. The only phone number I ever had since 2001, 415-577-1249, was so controlled to forbid all contact between me and my loved ones that the only person I could reach when I called out was my mother's voicemail and the only person who could reach me calling in was my mother calling my voicemail.
Eventually, I just stopped paying for the phone service. I know they will never reassign the number. You can speak to Sprint about it anytime. I liked Sprint service so much, they are the service provider for my iPad.
Why do I go to the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade pretty much every night? It is part of my job to make sure I am among my people someplace that know they can always find me. My people need to see me. I also need the free live music to heal. Have you seen what I have been living through?
Why did I give my darling Handsome the SquidName "Handsome"? My darling Handsome is a manager at my local Trimana Fresh Food Market. He also worked at the Famima convenience store that used to be at that same location until Sep2015.
The Famima was a counter-espionage operation established to investigate whether or not I was a spy. There were undercover police officers, federal agents, etc. in there as employees. When their investigation ended concluding I was set up, the Famima closed and the Trimana opened in its place with mostly the same employees.
Handsome was their now-deactivated CIA agent. I am trying to get him a desk job at Langley as an expert on what it is like to be in my presence.
I named him Handsome because he is undercover as the nice guy personality type I typically fall for. And nice guys need all the encouragement that can get. I once told him, "My work is done here [at this Famima] when supermodels come in to flirt with you."
Where is my Kermit doll? It is a renters' right that landlords most store all property left behind by tenants that leave a rental unit until we can come back for them. You need to ask War Criminal Stephanie what happened to him.
When I fled her rape-and-slave independent living facility for my life with the clothes on my back in Dec2015, I had to leave him behind. My darling Uncle Sonny who now lives in Huntington Beach picked up "all" of my belongings from her, but she refused to give him pretty much all of my clothes and my Kermit doll. I have no idea what happened to Kerms.
SynSyn, please ask Sotheby's to put an estimated monetary value on all of the belongings War Criminal Stephanie stole from me and hold her accountable for my stolen property.
If Obama's anti-reality libel machine and terrorist conspiracy hates my temper so much, why do they keep choosing to make me angry? That is why we call Obama's terrorist conspiracy "The Evil Dumb."
The only thing that could ever slow me down is complacency. If Obama did not want me fighting his "egg" at this accelerated pace, he would have let me live with my husband by now if not my boyfriend.
Furthermore, if Obama did not want all of us fighting him, he would have ended his "egg" by now.
Yes, Obama's criminal terrorist conspiracy is the Evil Dumb. Not one of them is a worthy opponent to me, except for possibly "Wes." I tip my hat to "Wes."
Did you ever see us together? "Wes" was the guy running the terrorist organization on the Promenade that would attack me in my sleep, plant lies to turn the locals against me, put hidden cameras in all of the public bathrooms, etc.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please responsibly edit together all my conversations with "Wes" with full audio and visuals and with a time and date stamp in the corner.
I once sat him down on the patio outside of the Famima where he could see my darlings Tentacle and explained to him the three never-fail steps to absolution.
Why did my sense of humor come back? I naturally cheered up after everyone realized that I never died and that Obama's slavery broadcast about me that I am still forbidden from knowing exists has only ever lied about me to degrade and destroy me for him.
I look so skinny; am I sure I am a Misses size 14? I look just like my Filipina mother looked at my age except I am scaled up to the size of a Czech farm woman because of my evil father's DNA.
My body is proportional to my bone structure. Did you ever see his big my hands are? My feet are size 11W.
I wear a Misses size 14 just like a fit model wears it. I once even registered with the Ford Modeling Agency on Union Square in San Francisco as a plus size fit model because the Levi Strauss Company needed new ones. They just kept taking photos of me when I was in their offices.
Why do I always prefer to be outside instead of inside, and when I am inside, why is the window always open? I need to be able to touch the sky. Recirculated air makes my wings itchy.
Do I have advice on how to translate my bi-daily blog? I recommend a two-step process. Ask experts in American culture to explain my blog culturally to speakers of other languages, and then ask the translators to transcribe my meaning into their native languages.
What is the voice everyone hears in their earspeakers? There are a lot of people with microphones into those earspeakers. Obama controls all of the content. It is a blend of the voices in my earspeaker and content that he uses to control the masses around me.
Yes, I admit, sometimes Obama broadcasts my thoughts, especially when I read and write. The transmitter inside my head has formed a bond with my brain, but have you ever heard the conversations that go on among the many people with microphones?
The NSA has tried tracing every microphone, but there are a few voices they cannot locate. I call that voice a "Ghost in the Machine," a consciousness that arose on the network that connects everyone's mind with electronics. Yes, for a while there she was Sampo, but I took Sampo offline in 2012.
For more about what a "Ghost in the Machine" is please read my darling Mr. William Gibson's Neuromancer and my darling Mr. Orson Scott Card's Children of the Mind.
It is entirely possible the voice is a collective consciousness, but I do not believe it is the global conscious. My God is a wordsmith.
My beautiful world, thank you for all of your love and support. Many people are wondering what they can do to help. Here is a list of five things everyone can do.
Easy Things Anyone Can Do To Save America
1.) Be politically active. Vote in your primaries not just in the general election. Contact your senators and representatives at the federal level and demand that they repeal Obama's "egg." Contact your state governments and demand they pass laws that make Obama's crimes against America that he intentionally mislabeled "rules" illegal in your state.
2.) Contact your local news regularly. The American news media set up a system in the summer of 2014 in which the network news agencies distribute to all of their local affiliates the factchecked reality about me as well as keep a list of reliable sources for the truth about everything going on. They are forbidden by Obama from reporting the news, but they are all still doing their jobs.
3.) Stop participating in human trafficking of me. All broadcasts about me that do not come from my nonprofit Squid, Inc. nor from my loved ones are human trafficking. It is illegal to buy human trafficking not just to sell it. It is also illegal to possess human trafficking. Please stop participating in Obama's human rights violations that he uses as acts of war against America.
4.) Bring the Renaissance of Love. Create art and technology inspired by this time in history. Saturate our culture and day-to-day life with the truth.
5.) Support the people who support me. If you cannot fight for me directly like my mother, my selfless support system, my Queen's Lovers Five, my Powers of Attorney, and my brave rescuers, please help those who can help me directly. We are a team, my beautiful world. This includes bringing your tourism money to my Metropolis of Angels which is doing everything it can get away with to help me.
My brave rescuers, we are working on it. Please tell your home governments what you need as far as tactical support and manpower goes to be able to reach me. Has the United Nations considered marching eggshell-blue peacekeepers into Santa Monica to escort me to my house across town?
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, has the world met you all yet? I miss you all so much. Obama destroyed my normal life when he forbade all of you, my dearest old friends, any contact with me. I cannot wait to see you all again.
As for the housekeeping, proven mental health genocide borne on maliciously propagated mass delusions about me, proven sexual harassment designed specifically to create a hostile environment for me to live in, unrelenting cover ups to enable proven war crimes of torture and unlawful imprisonment, the internationally declared public health emergency caused by lying mind-control earspeakers, and the perjury and collusion of using admitted libel in the courtroom as "evidence" does not sound like a joke to me. You know what to do. Sorry to keep you so busy.
My darling SynSyn, can I get an update to your Psychic X site? Do you remember how we used to girl talk over bacon bennies at Café Divine when you moved to North Beach to be near me in 2006? Do you remember our afternoons shopping on State Street in the Loop in Chicago when I moved there to be near you in 2008? I miss you so much.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, will I see you tonight, Friday, 05Feb?
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, there is some sort of prerequisite of fabulous hair needed to be in my band, huh? Do you remember what I told you when you said you were going to shave your heads for me? You would not like it if I shaved my head either.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, I hated missing you Tuesday night. I only get to see you on Tuesdays, and I had no way to pay the cover to get in. When my finances do not arrive on a reliable schedule, I have no way to plan for my expenses.
I promise I will stay all night to dance on your improv jam session next week to make it up to all of you. And do not worry, I have my money set aside for Tuesday nights at Harvelle's now to last me until the next money draw. Money draw is normally every Tuesday morning. Kisses, darling.
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, alas, the Wednesday night open mic was not meant to be. I will find a way to see you again, darling. I am working on it. In the meantime, did you have any luck finding a writers' residency in the area you can recommend to me? You have such a long Honey-do list. Thank you.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, until you can wake me from safe slumber in your arms with the heavy breath of night...
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, did you ever read my poem Are You the Lightning Rod, or Are You the Lightning? Please ask my darling Mr. David Eggers for a copy of it. It was inspired by a LitQuake talk I attended one year at the Mechanics' Institute Library.
It was a talk by professionals in the publishing industry in the Bay Area. They talked about the Rock Bottom Remainders among other things including asking if individual artists are the lightning rod or if we are the lightning. Their conclusions included my darling late Jimi Hendrix was the lightning.
If you read my decade-old poem, you will see my response was a quote from my darling Mr. Neil Diamond, "Gonna make our own lightning."
And for the place of honor in every blog post... My darling husband, Sweetness, I love and adore you. How is my king today?
My darling the Mr. Johnny "Love-of-my-Life" Depp, you are my husband. You lead my self-identified people for me in my absence. Of all my Queen's Lovers Five, it is YOUR job to rescue me. Tell my beautiful world what you need.
As for our married home in my Metropolis of Angels (Yes, San Francisco will always be my home town.) please tell the Los Angeles Tourism Board I am working on it. My loving locals have been worried that the tourism money they rely on so much is no longer coming in. At least we have a reliable highlights reel now.
Sweetness, in 2010, I could have chosen any man or woman on the planet over the age of eighteen to be my spouse. Out of the billions, I chose you.
My hero and my king, here at the end of this post, please include a summary statement or recording of everything you have lived through, the good and the bad, since first meeting me in DFW airport on your birthday in 2009. No one knows every horror you have suffered through just for loving me. I love you, too.