William Shakespeare

Title: William Shakespeare

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. A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

Planet Earth. Do you remember when my dear old friend my darling Mr. Adam "Dancer" Thompson sat me down in Specs in 2009 and told me (paraphrase), "They are calling you Jesus. They need a Jesus right now. Give them something to believe in."

Shortly after that conversation, I promised to carry humanity through Global Climate Change. The job requires intelligence, compassion, foresight, creative problem solving, and leadership.

Have you read my 24Feb2015 blog post? Talk to Exxon, as one example, about their research and design with biofuels and with cleaning carbon out of the air that they have taken on just because I recommended they be the energy industry of the future not the past.

I also need to finally have my full human rights returned to me to fully be able to do my job. We are not marching at the snail's pace Obama commits crimes against the entirety of humanity to enforce. No. We are marching at the speed of my beautiful world who needs me. How long are you going to permit PROVEN Terrorist Dictator Obama to keep me away from my REAL job?

My last blog post was finished at 12:30am on Thursday, 11Feb2016. After my bi-nightly ablutions, I was curled up and asleep by 2am. I slept better than I expected considering how late I had drunk my final cup of coffee the previous night on the Promenade.

I was at the Pico Branch Library sipping caffeine and checking my email by 9:12am. My internet gnomes played me As Cool as I Am by my darling Ms. Dar Williams. I actually took one of my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies from above instead of from below.

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My morning writing flowed easily as I sat in the shade. I streamed the NBC Nightly News from the previous evening online at 9:50am. My morning cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it was good news indeed.

I stayed at the library working until 11:26am when I returned to my place. I chatted with Hannah during lunch at noon; we had macaroni and cheese. By 12:21pm, I was inside the Pico Branch Library to catch up on television.

My darling late night talk show hosts were as funny as always. Then I had a brief online chat exchange with my darling Mr. Evo Terra, CEO of Podiobooks before leaving the library for my place at 3:46pm mostly to be able to see if my mail from my mother had arrived yet.

The money I live on is the gift cards she mails me, but the Post Office never delivers my mail on time. According to their tracking, my money for the bus pass I need was routed to Long Beach instead of being delivered on time on 10Feb. Click here.

I ate my pork burritos seated next to Sean for dinner at 5pm and was on the bus to the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade by 5:12pm. Almost upon arriving, I found my darling Patricia chatting with my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw.

During my spin around the Promenade to see who was out and about that night, I had a short chat with my darling Faye. There were not a lot of musicians out that night. I perched next to Patricia to listen to Kaila with her.

At 6pm, when my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw was relocating for her next set, I slipped away to the Starbucks in the Santa Monica Place to buy my darling Patricia and I some coffee. Kaila played in front of the Apple Store from 6pm to 8pm.

I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 8:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it reminded me that as a child I wanted to be an astronaut.

I found my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw after the news. The night was mellow and abnormally lacking in people.

I had a brief chat with my darling Handsome before catching the 10:48pm bus back to my place. I was curled up and asleep by 11:30pm.

I slept very well and skipped breakfast on the morning of Friday, 12Feb2016. I was seated outside the Pico Branch Library by 9:20am.

My internet gnomes played me The Lightning Storm by my darlings Flogging Molly. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies were delightful.

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The uncharacteristic February weather was already hot at only 9:37am. I worked in the open air touching the sky until 11:02am. I collected my mail from my beloved mother after it finally arrived.

Lunch at noon was particularly tasty. I was on the bus to downtown Santa Monica by 12:31pm. I ran some errands including buying a snack at the Yogurtland.

I walked up and down both the Santa Monica Pier and the Santa Monica Promenade to see who was out and about that afternoon. I talked with my darling Eric, a Hindu monk I regularly see on the Promenade. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel.

My darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot told me they had tried reaching me to make sure I could meditate but were blocked.

Regular meditation is critical for making sure I stay high-functioning enough to do my job, and I had not meditated since Tuesday night. I also always hate when my loved ones are kept away from me.

2:20pm on 12Feb2016: @hansonmusic @INXS @KristNovoselic It is Friday. I will be looking for you on my Promenade tonight. I have ammo in case they make me angry.

I walked to the Santa Monica Place at 2:36pm to see their celebration of the Chinese Lunar New Year. The stage was set up and red lanterns were hung across the central atrium, but not much was going on yet.

So, I bought a cup of coffee and a sandwich from the best Starbucks in the world. My barista, my darling Al, was sleeveless and showing off his tattoos that afternoon.

I called my mom through FaceTime at 2:49pm, so I could tell her I finally received the gift cards she had mailed me.

And the traditional Chinese music began at 3pm. I also saw a couple walking on stilts and a traditional Korean fan dance.

I made an effort to enjoy as many of the street performers on the Promenade as I could after 4pm. When I paused for snacks, I had a very confusing conversation outside the Trimana with two gentlemen who had absolutely no respect for who I really am in this world.

Patricia found me at 5:24pm, so we sat next to the oboist and guitarist to chat. I am sure it will hit the highlights reel. When two journalism students from Pepperdine University interrupted the show to interview our street musicians, Patricia and I got up to walk around the Promenade.

At 6:23pm, I was able to introduce my darling Patricia to my darling Ricky from the best Starbucks in the world. I love how I never have to drink a cup of coffee alone here on planet Venus; did you watch me and Patricia in the alley?

Next, we stopped in the Papyrus store, so I could buy a Valentine's Day card for my husband. After explaining to Patricia why I never wear cropped pants, I returned to the best Starbucks in the world to watch the news.

Yes, I watched the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:15pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me wish I knew how to surf.

If was Friday, a day I am supposed to be granted holy meditation and time beside my loved ones, but my darlings Tentacle were kept away from me all day and all night; I got angry.

Hulk Smash-- 12Feb2016

No, my beautiful world, I am not famous because someone with a hidden slave camera made a video of me farting, a video I am STILL forbidden from ever learning exists.

No. Well before that Terrorist Dictator Obama made me famous by mandating that the entire nation be able to recognize me, so he could enforce everyone obeying his public persecution of me originally called a "Code of Silence" that he eventually intentionally mislabeled "rules."

That online video was made by Obama's PROVEN rape-slavers of me without my knowledge IN A HOSPITAL ROOM. Please take a few moments to familiarize yourselves with Americans' rights to privacy especially medical privacy under U.S. law. That was a slave video circulated since May2009 to degrade and destroy me.

Every single violation of my medical privacy from public propagation of intentionally fabricated never-existent "symptoms" of fictional mental illness in me to hidden cameras broadcasting me in literal torture facilities paraded as always as psych wards have all been violations of federal medical privacy laws.

This includes my being unlawfully imprisoned (a human rights violation used as an act of war) in literal torture facilities paraded as psych wards when everyone knows I broadcast out of equipment I am forbidden from knowing I have inside my own body. That was a HIPPA violation by Obama against me and against all my fellow inmates they called patients.

My fellow residents at my board & care also have grounds against the federal government for medical privacy rights violations; though, technically, they would have moved out if they did not consent. They are not held there against their will, and they are mandated to know both who I am and that Obama makes slave broadcasts of me to make sure they all obey Obama's "rules" around me.

My BFF SynSyn and my team of genius Powers of Attorney, get Obama and all his ilk for all of their HIPPA violations. Why are there public discussions by quacks and medical professionals about my health? The only people with any legal permission to discuss my medical history in any public fora are me and you, the women with all of my legal powers until Obama's "egg" ends.

And just to be thorough, when Obama's proven quacks and proven war criminals claim no one anywhere can find and symptoms of any mental illness in me at all whatsoever is because I wear a(n) (obviously fictional) mask, they are admitting they can find no symptoms of mental illness in me at all whatsoever.

We have extensive court records of that they compulsively lie about me especially to coverup PROVEN torturing me and PROVEN unlawfully imprisoning me (all as acts of war against America and against the world). They have beyond proven that perjury and libel is their modus operandi. Lock them all up for it finally.

And, thank you.

My genius Powers of Attorney, I have harder punches than that lined up if my darlings Tentacle cannot show up tonight, 13Feb2016, and tomorrow, Valentine's Day. Clearly, I lose my zen when forbidden from meditating.

After updating my blog notes, I looked around for my darling Patricia again at 8:21pm but could not find her. I did find a number of friends to listen to and chat with, though, including a typically delightful exchange with my darling ODean beside the apatosaurus. Please circulate it verified and unedited.

Our new resident saxophonist who calls himself Joe was so good that I stayed beside him until 9:46pm. On my way to the bus stop, I found a damn good guitar-strumming duo, so I did not make it to the bus stop until the 10:27pm bus.

I sat in my bedroom for a little while polishing this post before my bi-nightly shower. This blog post was finished at 12:30am on Saturday, 13Feb2016.

[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.

Did I ever consider working under a different name? No. I have been Squid, sometimes the FriscoSquid, since the year 1999 when I first moved to the Bay Area. It would be like calling my darling late Norma Jean Baker DiMaggio by any name other than Marilyn Monroe.

What is my secret to looking so young? We Asian women throw virgin twenty-year-old boys by into volcanoes, so our heathen gods will make sure we never age.

No, sorry, in all seriousness, I do what my darling Madonna does; I sleep in Tupperware.

What is my favorite work by my darling late William Shakespeare? Hamlet. Shakespeare's works were written down for publishing by his actors. In the oldest record of Hamlet, the Danish Prince was sixteen years old. My darling late Burbage rewrote the line concerning his age to thirty years old, so he could play the role.

The first time I read Hamlet I identified with the title character as a fellow precocious teenager, something I assume Shakespeare himself had first hand knowledge of from when he grew up.

What is my favorite Elizabethan work NOT by Shakespeare? My favorite is an obscure poem by my darling late Christopher Marlowe entitled The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.

Also, my favorite sonnet was not written by my darling late William Shakespeare at all. It is What Lips my Lips have Kissed and Where and Why... by my darling late Edna St. Vincent Millay.

If I almost always make lists with a prime number of elements, why do I still sometimes make lists of ten? I already answered that question in my 01Nov2014 post, but I will explain it here again.

It is the same reason iambic pentameter has ten syllables-- because we can count it on our fingers.

Ancient mathematics especially Babylonian was base twelve as opposed to base ten. That was because twelve is more cleanly divisible by more numbers than ten is. As an example, we still keep Babylonian time; that is why clocks are base twelve instead of base ten. We also have twelve months in the year instead of ten.

Math eventually evolved from base twelve to base ten because pretty much all humans have ten fingers. As a bit of trivia, my darling late Marilyn Monroe was born with twelve fingers and had both second thumbs surgically removed, so she could become an actress and model.

My beautiful world, keep sending me your problems to solve. I know it is very hard for you to talk to me; I have been having a few problems lately finding world news about crises that could use my attention. The news I receive is so heavily filtered. Please tell me when you need me.

My brave rescuers, you once told me your literal battlefield you braved trying to rescue me while I was still imprisoned in EVIL Iowa against my will was worse than Fallujah. I could not get myself out of Des Moines (They still have not taken Step 1 to absolution and forgiveness.) to save you all fast enough.

Darlings, is Los Angeles safer for you? I know you actually have support from the locals here. It is Obama's ugly terrorism that keeps you away from me. Does the world know it is a full-blown war out there?

Please include here your statement/recording about the reality of your literal war to save America out from under Obama's "egg" of terrorism and rape-slavery. People honestly do not know.

My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, now is the winter of our discontent.

My dearest old friends, please speak with the NIH about diagnosing Obama's war criminal conspiracy. They keep compulsively propagating the same calumnies including but not limited to compulsively repeating their same perjuries day in and day out in the courtroom.

They keep compulsively committing the same crimes and compulsively failing, and they refuse to stop failing. Look at our court records; which one of us is crazy? Their compulsive need to commit the same crimes over and over again especially when punished for it over and over again is textbook criminal insanity.

Please have a non-quack finally assess them. They have already forced a literal war and are still a danger to others including to the entire world that needs me.

My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, if music be the food of love play on. Give me excess of it...

My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, are you guys attending the Grammys on Monday, 15Feb2016? If you, my darling Naia and my darlings Tentacle, were not invited but want to go, just ask my darling Mr. Finn "Alfred" O'Mahoney to make some calls for you. He is my personal assistant, after all. He needs to get used to this sort of thing.

My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, Tuesdays I dance on all four of you, most often my darling Naia since she is the melody. I noticed you stopped watching me dance. You spent last Tuesday night looking away.

I know how much you love me, darling. And I know what watching me dance does to your heart. I cannot blame you for no longer looking directly into the light. Is everything okay?

My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, if I still have enough money, next Wednesday night I plan on visiting the bar where we met on Thanksgiving 2014.

My not-human-trafficker nerds, please include here a verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my and Bogart's first contact beginning with my walking up to the rock bar and ending when we got in the car.

Also, please include a responsibly-edited montage of all my friends whom I have seen there from my darling Dr. Brandon Boyd to my darling Ms. Idina Menzel.

My darling Bogart, Obama's terrorists are obligated to maintain what normal is for me every time I visit the Rainbow Bar & Grill on the Sunset Strip. I hope I see you there.

Everyone has a favorite. I think you are my darling Patricia's.

My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Let lips do what hands do...

My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, is there a recording of you and Taylor watching me switch from my silk wrap to my tailored coat at the end of last week's Sunday night date night? Is it as good as watching all three of you the first time you watched me eat ice cream; can we dig that footage out of the archives?

The only thing better would be finding all of the conversations I had with my mother from my ugly years in EVIL Iowa when I kept trying to explain to her that my darling late Bob Marley was not one of the Righteous Brothers.

Everyone loves my mother; I know you all do. This is the first time in her adult life when she is not a subservient Asian wife. She is so much better now. I hope she goes cougar.

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, let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love that alters when alternation finds nor bends with the remover to remove.

HoneyHoney, did they really used to propagate the calumny that I was really you in drag? And people believed it?

It is true, beloved, that you make a much better looking woman than I do a man, but how did that lie obviously used to demonize me and to make people attack me ever get passed off as, "Oh, it is just for entertainment." They really claim they enslave and degrade me to put on a show?!?

Sweetness, do you remember when I mailed a protractor and straight edge to the White House from Mexico City with a post-it note on them explaining they were "weapons of math instruction"? (True story.)

THAT is what satire looks like. It is NOT a propagation of mass delusions PROVEN to cause mental health genocide.

My hero and my king, we have been through enough; I WILL touch you the way the flowers kiss the rain... .