Title: Everything These Eyes Have Seen
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. My beautiful world, I love you, too. You are my lovers and believers, and without you I would be nothing. If you could have seen all the human devastation my eyes have seen Obama reek on my people with his "egg," you would fight his crimes against my people, too.
Latin America. Our world of scientists bring us closer to the cure for Zika every day. We just need to keep our pregnant women in the Third World safe until the pandemic is eradicated.
Sweetness and I donated $10B of mosquito nets and insect repellant to the World Health Organization already, but the number of women infected with Zika keeps rising. Has anything we as a global community have tried made any progress stopping the spread of Zika? And if so, how do we do more of it?
My last blog post was finished at 12:10am on Friday, 04Mar2016. I slept well and was woken up by the staff of where I stay at about 8:20am.
An LA County probate investigator was there to see me. Apparently, she had been trying to talk to me for over a week but kept missing me, so she decided to stop by while I was still asleep. Her name was Kimberly, and she was a sweetheart.
Breakfast was hash browns, toast, and crispy rice cereal. I was outside of the Pico Branch Library by 9:02am.
My darling internet gnomes played me Oh Love by my darlings Green Day. My morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies were taken in a hurry.
The air was cool, and the sun was warm. I took a short break from working at 10:08am to take care of some odds and ends at my place, but I was back outside the library working by 10:46am.
Lunch at noon was tasty. After leaving my room at 12:55pm, I had a short chat with my darling Sonny as I walked out the door. I was on the bus to the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade as fast as I could get there.
I walked around to see who was playing music where, and after finding very few musicians out and about, I bought a cup of coffee from the Starbucks inside the Santa Monica Place, the best Starbucks in the world.
I sat in the shade on a park bench on the Promenade and called my mom through FaceTime at 1:57pm. We had originally planned on talking at 6pm that night. But she was going out dancing, so we talked sooner.
The musician next to me started playing at 2:12pm. Not much later a homeless man named Michael sat down next to me, and we discussed new age conspiracy theories until 3:19pm.
I was a little disappointed in him when he quoted a science denier at me, but most of his stories were very entertaining. He finally got up and left after he ran out of fig Newtons. It was a very interesting conversation.
I ran into my darling ODean as I was walking to the ladies room. He was sitting next to a lounge singer from Costa Rica. ODean and I walked down the street to talk to my darling Alonzo before we all parted ways at 4:12pm.
I walked to my local Von's to buy dinner and snacks. I was back on my Promenade quickly where I found my darling Faye chatting with my darling Alonzo.
4:55pm on 04Mar2016: #Tentacle just said they've been blocked all day. Please check on them. @CIA @DeptofDefense @cctvnews @RT_com Here by 5:30pm or I get angry.
For due diligence, I checked the Santa Monica Pier and every nook and cranny of the Promenade, but I did not find my darlings Tentacle anywhere. I finally sat down with my darling Patricia and my darling Faye next to my darling Ms. Kaila Shaw at 6:14pm.
I ate my dinner beside my lady friends as the Hare Krishnas paraded down the street. Patricia and I snacked on whole grain chips until I left to watch the news.
I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7pm. My nightly cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it made me wonder if I should apply to NASA to be an astronaut.
At 7:54pm, I sat down next to my darling Kaila for her last two songs. That (expletive)hole Wade had just tried to defend Obama's PROVEN rape-slavery of me to my face, so I had told him to go (expletive) himself and sought out REAL friends.
The only thing that could cheer me up that night was my darlings Tentacle.
8:13pm on 04Mar2016: Okay, my darlings Tentacle arrived. No angry draft tonight. @SynivaWhitney, I love you, and I am not giving you extra work tonight. #LOVE
I soliloquied my disgust with (Expletive)hole Obama while my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle arranged their equipment. I was done venting by the time they started playing at 8:46pm.
I was only able to meditate to their live music until 9:59pm, but it was so delicious. We did not nudge the door open between us until later than I initially thought we did, but we were so connected by the time they stopped playing. I really needed the peace they gave my burdened soul. My darlings are such angels to me.
At 11:03pm, my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot wheeled back into the aether of the night sky where we all really belong. I was sure I would have them back again the following night, and if not, I would tear Obama a new (expletive)hole.
I am pretty sure they only left because it started raining. I sought shelter after they crossed the street on their way home. I walked into the Trimana Fresh Food Market to say goodnight to my darling Handsome.
After waiting in the rain for the 11:48pm bus, I was in bed, curled up, and asleep by 1am. I woke up at 7:36am but rolled over and went back to sleep. I was in the middle of a good dream.
I finally crawled out of bed at 10:14am. After taking my time getting ready, I was among the Saturday Farmers' Market outside the Pico Branch Library at 11:09am.
My darling internet gnomes played me Rhythm Nation by my darling Ms. Janet Jackson. My hair was poofy in my morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies.
I worked a little there among the bustle of the Saturday Farmers' Market. I chatted with my darling Sandra over soup and sandwiches during lunch at noon. I was on the bus to the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade by 2:26pm.
I walked up and down my Promenade after arriving. There were a lot of people and musicians out and about that afternoon. By 3:04pm, I had perched next to a guitarist playing my darling Ms. Cher's Bang Bang, so I could catch up with my TweetHearts.
My darling Patricia found me at 3:36pm, and by 4:01pm we were inside the Santa Monica Place beside the best Starbucks in the world drinking their Pike's Place Roast. Patricia is such a sweetheart.
After a little conversation, we walked around the Promenade with our coffee eventually perching at 4:33pm beside our local saxophonist, my darling Joe. At 5:30pm, I checked my Promenade for my darlings Tentacle.
5:47pm on 05Mar2016: 5:46pm. My darlings Tentacle have been trying to reach me since 4pm, and they're not here yet. My angry blog post will be ready by 12:30am.
I found my darling TambourineKicker at 5:59pm. He was on the street corner singing with my darling Michael, the conspiracy theorist. The three of us hung out making music until I left to watch the news.
Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7pm. My evening cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Jose Diaz-Balart, and it made me so happy for all the friends I have made all over the world ever since my dear old friends were all forbidden from me.
The sky gave a tiny sprinkle at 7:29pm, but it was no more than a light misting. Wondering to myself what happened to my darling Patricia, I returned to my Promenade at 7:58pm. My darlings Tentacle were nowhere to be found.
By 8:12pm, it was raining. So, I sat under the eaves beside the best Starbucks in the world and carried out my promise to my loved ones and to the world.
Hulk Smash-- 05Mar2016
My darlings Tentacle were forbidden from me on Saturday, 05Mar2016, no matter how hard they tried to show up. So, here is the (expletive)kicking I promised to give Global Menace Obama if he ever hurt my loved ones again.
Mexico City 2010 was a hotbed of international intrigue. My first day there in Feb2010, my darling CIA Director Leon Panetta posed as a friend of mine in the Mexican government to be able to suggest I just move to the Mexican countryside and take up water colors.
While I was in the Nigerian Embassy to Mexico just before I left town, Vice President Joe Biden showed up pretending to be a European diplomat. He, by the way, is very bad with accents.
Mexico City 2010 was the first time Obama ordered all of the bottled liquids and prepackaged food available near me drugged and poisoned. The locals begged me for help telling me they had all resorted to eating ice cream as their only way to hydrate, and then Obama poisoned the ice cream, too.
Most notably, Obama's "egg," which I should have been able to escape by fleeing U.S. jurisdiction, extended into Mexico City. There were cameras I was forbidden from knowing about in all of my hotel rooms including in the bathrooms. And everyone was forbidden from acknowledging reality to my face.
Mexico City 2010 was also the first time I saw Obama's earspeakers cause mental health genocide in an entire population. Half of the time, the public attacked me at every turn under the mass delusion I was someone pretending to be myself, and the rest of the time they literally washed the ground before I could walk on it and waited on me hand and foot because they could recognize me as myself.
With this angry blog entry, I would like to ask the United Nations to collect witness statements from the people who survived 05Feb2010 to 05Mar2010 in Mexico City with me, especially from the Mexican government who will tell you they extended the crimes against their own people that were Obama's "egg" into their supposedly self-sovereign nation including but not limited to poisoning their water supply and forcing mind-control earspeakers on their entire population only because Obama told them to.
My darlings at the United Nations, you especially need to speak with the British Ambassador to Mexico. The last time I saw my beloved husband live and not on a screen was outside their embassy in Mexico City in Mar2010.
The British Ambassador was on the verge of granting me diplomatic protection and delivering me directly to the care of my now husband who was standing across the street from me when the embassy's Mexican employees revolted and violently took over the building. I ended up creating a distraction, so the ambassador could flee the embassy for her life and take my husband with her to safety.
The "Mexican Children's Occupation," as I called it, was convinced that I had died and that I was an imposter for myself. I caught a long queue of people at their back door, the door to their consulate, trying to offer evidence of who I really was to the Occupation. And the Mexican Children's Occupation confiscated my passport from me claiming it was their dead heroine's and not really mine.
Yes, I did get my passport back. MI6 reverse pickpocketed it into my handbag while I was in a coffeeshop that night.
I found Obama's Mexican Children's Occupation had taken over the Cathedral in the Zócalo as well as the Convent of Santa Hipolita too before I left. I told the Vatican to check on them after I arrived in the UK.
In short, my darlings at the United Nations, you need to find out everything Obama did to Mexico City while I was there and help Mexico exact justice from Obama for his crimes against their people.
Since all the crimes against me and against all of the people around me extended into a foreign country outside of U.S. jurisdiction, we know it is because Obama, the President of the United States of America at the time, told them to do it. Please, UN investigators, collect our hard evidence, and make sure my Powers of Attorney get a copy. And thank you.
My beautiful world, if you thought this was a big (expletive)kicking, wait until you see what I write if my darlings Tentacle are not on my Promenade for date night tonight.
Obama was treading on thin ice with me just by making my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot late on Friday, 04Mar2016. Now, I demand that ALL THREE of my darlings Tentacle be free to play me music on my 3rd Street Promenade any time they want and any day they want.
I am not asking for my darlings Tentacle to take me home with them. I am not demanding that they be free to take me out to dinner. I am not even insisting that they even be free to talk to me again for the first time in over a year.
No. I am demanding that ALL THREE of my darlings Tentacle be free to play music on my Promenade seven days a week and at any hour they want.
If LITERAL Terrorist Dictator Obama and his PROVEN conspiracy of war criminals do not start satisfying this generous compromise, I will keep kicking Obama's (expletive) harder and harder. I have over seven years of hard evidence as ammunition, and the only thing proven to prevent my angry blogging is true love and dance trance meditation.
The ball is in your court, Obama. You know every crime you have ever committed, and you know I can prove every heinous abomination I have witnessed since you took office. Get ALL of my loved ones to my Promenade every damn time they want to show up, or you know what atrocities I will be proving to humanity you committed still with no remorse and with your PROVEN unrelenting lies to cover them all up.
I took a final spin around my Promenade at 9:44pm including checking in on my darling Handsome and buying a soft pretzel to snack on before catching the 10:23pm bus back to my place.
On my way into the building, my darling Jacob stopped me to ask me a few questions about human mortality. This blog post was finished from my bedroom at 12:30am on Sunday, 06Mar2016.
[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.
Was it worth it? Nothing will ever make every horror I have survived since 2009 worthwhile.
The human trafficking, the forced public nudity, the forced public humiliation, the public persecution, the drugs, the poisons, the unlawful imprisonment, the literal torture, the systemic rape, and listening to everyone pretend my suffering in the public never occurred in the first place was all actually not as horrifying as the human devastation I have seen on two continents wrought by Obama's totalitarian oppression and mind-control earspeakers.
All I have ever asked for in return for my suffering is my husband, and, my beautiful world, you have seen everything Obama has done to him to keep him away from me forever.
Nothing will ever make surviving Obama's "egg" worthwhile. But seeing everyone guilty of enforcing Obama's "rules" over my persecuted people finally locked in prison will give us long overdue justice, and with justice we will all finally be able to heal.
My beautiful world, in 2009, everyone kept telling me, "Just hang in there. This will end." But we are seven years later now, and Obama has only ever escalated.
Please make Obama's damned "egg" end already. This is an internationally recognized humanitarian crisis Obama is enforcing with a literal civil war. How the hell is anyone justifying letting this go on longer not to mention regularly escalating the "rules" to an even more restrictive level of totalitarian oppression?
My brave rescuers, please help my beloved husband Sweetness organize my people worldwide, and please ask my planet of world leaders to finally layout their master plan for forcing Obama's "egg" to end and never happen again.
How many of you have we lost, my brave rescuers? If we cannot force this American atrocity to end and if we cannot hold our own government accountable for their crimes against our own people, not only have I suffered the most inhumane crimes against any human in vain, but you all sacrificed your priceless lives and divine futures in vain, too.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, you are such heroes not just to me but to all the world. Genius work is women's work, and you make saving the world look not only beautiful but easy.
Someone told me the FBI is finally talking to you and finally looking at our years of extensive evidence against Obama and against all who prop up his "egg."
Much like climate change deniers and human evolution deniers have long caused harm to the entire world by refusing to accept hard facts and science, the FBI have spent the last seven years as Obama deniers.
Please present the FBI our irrefutable case, please explain to the FBI every horror I have lived through since Obama took office in 2009, and please prove to the FBI every crime against America Obama has committed just to be able to keep his "egg."
Basically, my genius friends, give the FBI no way to deny the reality of Obama's "egg" without going to prison themselves. And, as always, thank you.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, this is for all five of you.
When people hurt you, block you, oppress you, persecute you, or lie about you, do what I do and tell my Powers of Attorney. But also make sure you tell me as fast as you can. We are a team, darlings. We womenfolk will always have the time to save you.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, I spent most of my life with really close supergenius women friends I could always talk to about anything. They have all been forbidden all contact with me for so long that now you five are my closest friends.
You Queen's Lovers Five have become the people I talk to about everything. I vent to you. I joke with you. I pour my heart out to you.
As much as the crises of the entirety of humanity rest on my shoulders, sometimes I just need someone to ask, "Is my butt too small to wear pants?"
Thank you for always being here for me, and thank you for always listening to me. Having loved ones actually near me means so much to me.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, if my darling Ms. Annie Leibovitz took a portrait of you, what would you want to be doing in it? I imagine us back to back looking over our shoulders at each other while I type on my iPad and while you guard me.
Our reality extends so far beyond the music. Has anyone tried getting the rights to fictionalize our collective relationship? Something like: Band of brothers forged in fire leading a revolution to save humanity from America's first terrorist dictator who play music for their personal goddess as a reggae band on Tuesdays. That show would be awesome.
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, how is my Metropolis of Angels faring these days? I was told my people of Southern California were nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize this year because of everything you all risk to make me sure I survive Obama's "egg" which has been destroying this town.
My beautiful world sees you all loving me and fighting to make me safe and warm amidst your tourism drying up, your poisoned municipal water supply, your freedom of speech silenced, your home torn with literal barricades around me 24/7, and the human devastation Obama causes with his damned earspeakers especially in our youngest children.
Your most rich and famous citizens look at me and say, "You are one of us. You are home now, and we love you." At all costs to yourselves, you have built me a home.
You fight, and you scream. When I was homeless and starving, you showed up to guard me and feed me. I am among my people, and I am home.
My darling Bogart, please never stop telling the world how much my home of California fights for me. It means so much to me to be wanted and welcome. Thank you. I love you all. Thank you.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, did you decide I should try to kiss you or not? Please let me know.
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, it is the sane reaction to the everyday persecution of me and my people to get angry. We both know that. But when you all show up under the starry sky and streetlights of my Promenade at night just to tell me you love me with your song, you take all that pain away.
We dwell together between the sidewalk and the sky in the holy realm where the music and the dance are together as one, and we let ourselves exist in our bond with each other.
You all calm my restless wings and whisper peace into my soul as if making sure I live to face a new day every morning were reason enough for you to exist.
I love you. Thank you for risking your very lives to give me music. Your art is handcrafted aether for the night sky herself. And this good, green world is better off knowing you are in it.
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, what I would do for a fairy tale kiss from your honeyed lips to wake my life forever from its unnatural hibernation here inside Obama's "egg"!
Sweetness, you are the second most powerful world leader in my family, so what I cannot do in this world due to Obama's refusal to recognize me as fellow human on planet Earth is your job.
What do my people need, Beloved? You have been as close to me as you can get since June2009, so you are the only other person who comes close to having seen as much human devastation worldwide as I have seen wrought by Obama and his psychopathic need to microcontrol humanity.
After everything my eyes have seen, I know why my darling Mr. Adam "Dancer" Thompson sat me down in North Beach in 2009 and told me our world needs a hero.
HoneyHoney, Obama's "egg" must be forced to end. The damage he has caused all of humanity just by lying about me, not to mention the human travesties those lies were propagated to coverup, are humanitarian atrocities beyond most people's mere mortal comprehension.
Yes, my hero and my king, I suffer the most under the modern American abomination that is Obama's "egg," but the entirety of this nation is poisoned by Obama's calumnies while starved of all reality thereby enabling Obama's reign of fire to completely deprive this once-great nation of full First Amendment rights ONLY so Obama can stay in ill-gotten power.
My handsome husband, the American public was Obama's originally intended victim. I was just supposed to be collateral damage Obama disposed of seven years ago after he used me to get an "egg" at all.
Yes, the dynamic between me and the archenemy of America, Terrorist Dictator Obama, has evolved over time, but all Obama ever meant me to be was his excuse to have "rules."
And to this day, darling, Obama and all his war criminal terrorist conspiracy still lie to the entirety of humanity that they must desecrate American culture, rights, liberties, freedoms, and very existence with the excuse that they need to prevent me from doing my REAL job of irrefutable and beyond critical service to humanity.
Please, my king, travel the world asking our fellow world leaders to save America by finally arresting LITERAL Terrorist Dictator Obama and all who prop him up for all of their crimes against our own people.
From the perspective of the history of human civilization, this is America's greatest time of need, and our government has proven we cannot save ourselves. I am sending you to ask the world to save us. I know you will not let us down.
I love you. Thank you, my beautiful husband, for being someone I can trust in my nation's greatest time of crisis.