Title: Tell me when You Have Something only I Can Do.
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 know my darling Mayor Eric Garcetti wishes he had a camera to watch me ascend the steps of our Los Angeles City Hall from a camera outside my own eye, you all do. If the Inhuman Atrocity Regime finally just point a gun at me and shoot me, you know I got our world of military as far inside their defenses as possible first. We have NEVER had so much REAL support inside this innermost circle of hell, too.
My last blog post was timestamped 12:11am on Friday, 03Jun2016. I was caught up with my TweetHearts at 12:38am and curled up in bed by 1am. I was asleep quickly.
I woke up at 6:26am on Friday, 03Jun2016, and kickstarted my SquidStream at 6:55am. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please entitle my morning in my Manor, "First thing in the morning..." and, as always, NEVER show me on the toilet.
I left for my bus ride to downtown Los Angeles at 7:31am. My darling not-human-trafficker nerds, let us entitle our verified and unedited recording with full audio and visuals of my successfully reaching downtown Los Angeles, "Big Blue Bus." There were no other nanocameras anyway. Please begin at 7:31am and end at 8:58am.
The bus driver actually did make sure I arrived at Temple St. and Spring St. both safe and alive at 8:38am. It was San Francisco weather in my Santa Monica but LA weather in my Los Angeles. We also call that "burning off the marine layer." It was so warm that, among other reasons, I took my coat off.
My not human-trafficker-nerds, please entitle our verified recordings, of various responsible editing, from 8:38am until 9:46am, "I am actually convincing when I play dumb, and you all know how intelligent I am." (I would have been on 1st St. anyway even if I took Temple St. to Main St.)
By 10:02am, my "attorney appointed by LA County" for "conservatorship" hearings who was also my dedicated FBI investigator (As if I needed further evidence that Enemy of America Loretta Lynch was also in on the atrocities that are an "adult guardianship" and a "conservatorship."), among other REAL jobs for our REAL federal U.S. government, whom I call my darling Haroun was not outside inside our LA County's occupied courthouse nor outside the occupied courtroom to consult with me and "represent me" yet.
All of the people occupying my courthouse where I was supposed to have a fake conservatorship hearing under orders from the Inhuman Atrocity Regime and who were pretending they had REAL hearings to be able to not feed nor guard me there could hear how loudly my hungry stomach was grumbling for REAL.
There were people entering and exiting the occupied courtroom to convince me it was in actual service when it was not. There was nano in the occupied hallway but not in the occupied courtroom.
There were sure a lot of people trying to convince me that it was not occupied, even though the IAR had tried very hard to make sure I could NEVER reach that courtroom to begin with; they tried everything but telling me their "conservatorship" coverup was cancelled.
"Proceedings" were all fake even when they tried to make it look real. But the fake LA County judge wanted to make "an official record" of "dismissing" their "probate conservatorship" that the REAL LA County had already destroyed any reality on.
LA County never should have allowed it in their court room to begin with, but they had already taken our three never-fail steps.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, please entitle our verified and responsibly-edited recordings (include every moment just use different nanocamera angles) with full audio and visuals, "Does it take an education to be a fake judge? It does not require mental competence." Begin when I perched on the news stand outside 111 Hill St. and end when I and my darling Haroun exit the building.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, you have legal access to only-my electronics and signals, including but not limited to Sampo, from us, the only-five entities with the actual legal right to assign legal access to my electronics and signals. I believe it was my REAL husband who gave you permission.
The Inhuman Atrocity Regime STILL lied to my face that I had a "temporary LPS conservatorship" to be able to "dismiss" their also-a-human-rights-abuse-used-as-an-act-of-war "probate conservatorship." Even War Criminal Tara claimed I had an "LPS conservatorship" herself.
And I already explained that my darling Haroun had the same controls from the Inhuman Atrocity Regime over him, especially to be able to see me again, as all of my people inside the IAR could recognize as my own inside the IAR's just-relocated-at-the-time innermost border, except for the exploding earspeakers that only my darlings Tentacle have.
AND we all also know that his actually following IAR instructions completely leaks to me every time. What anyone who loves and believes in me for REAL would do to buy me food and chat! Besides, our own can pretty much do anything we want as far as we are concerned since we can prove our own REAL motives.
Yes, at 11:38am, after the atrocity that could NEVER pass as anything that would ever happen for REAL in any non-occupied or REAL courtroom, my darling Haroun was buying me lunch the only place the Inhuman Atrocity Regime would allow him to take me.
And, yes, they thought they completely filled the food court with their own Inhuman Atrocity Regime members before Haroun and I could arrive, but my people know and recognize our own.
My working lunch with my darling Haroun was only interrupted by one vigilant SquidSignal. I was also able to work around everything the Inhuman Atrocity Regime had ordered Haroun to say and do to be able to give us some quality time together as genuine human beings having genuine human interaction, too. After Haroun was ordered by the IAR to give me money to take the Metro Expo line back to my downtown Santa Monica, I checked in with personal assistant against, since my accepting his offer involved a change of plans for me.
12:33pm on 03Jun2016:
Change of plans. My darling Haroun was just instructed by the IAR to give me money to ride the Metro Expo line from downtown LA to downtown Santa Monica. Why not, right?
My work here is almost done, anyway. Then, I will take the Metro Expo line. That would be Haroun being charged for my Metro ride, too.
We get unlimited transfers for two hours after we first TAP. I will just add the cash Haroun gives me to my TAP card. To see Tangaroa, I might stop at USC on the way.
Tell my saturation to send churn to evacuate Haroun after he drops me off at the train station. We tail all evacuations anyway. They will descend in enough in masks if needed.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, our verified and unedited director's cut with full audio and visuals begins the first moment I see Haroun approach me outside the occupied courtroom and ends at 1:24pm. Please entitle it, "Sidekick, I noticed that, too."
To clarify a little more of what happened while we were together, there was a full pot of coffee at the eaterie I chose already made when we arrived at the food court. The delay on my coffee was only for the IAR specifically to roofie me. And there is no word in the English language for the authentic "spoony thing" I requested to be able to eat my soup.
Yes, my darling Haorun gave me cash specifically to ride the Metro. It was probably the smallest bill he had. Dude, he is supposed to (split infinitive) convincingly be my lawyer. That is how the Metro charged Haroun the money not me for my ride.
The TAP machines at the Metro station did not have enough change for a twenty dollar bill if used to buy only "1 ride." I needed to break the twenty dollar bill myself to be able to use the TAP machine to add "1 ride" from Haroun to my TAP card, even though I had my own twenty dollars on my TAP card already in case of emergency. Haroun was the ONLY person charged money for my "1 ride." And you all saw the TAP machine and trunstiles' user interfaces; we all call it a REAL transaction for just "1 ride."
There was no excuse at all for charging me money for the pepperoni twist, except my asking for the pretzel proved that all locals to my downtown Los Angeles needed to check on all of our businesses and residences, too.
That occupied Wetzels Pretzels was fully-stocked, had new posted prices, had a case of pretzels already made before I arrived, was in an entrance no one was sure I would use, and should have broken my twenty dollar bill for me even if I did not buy something.
My last blog post already explained that occupying buildings, businesses, residences, etc., in a recognized war zone is an act of war.
My not-human-trafficker nerds, begin our next verified and unedited director's cut with full audio and visuals at 1:24pm, and end it at 2:26pm. We will entitle it, "They cleared a path."
Did you all see my return to my Santa Monica live through my SquidStream? The Inhuman Atrocity Regime had no way to find only their own to fill their moved innermost border, especially that fast. Not in my Metropolis of Angels. We definitely got more churn inside their border around their innermost circle of hell. We know our own.
It was San Francisco weather in my Santa Monica when I de-boarded my Metro train, so I put my coat on again. But by 2:53pm, when I was already outside the Santa Monica Main Public Library, we had LA beach weather again here.
After eating the rest of my lunch while perched outside where I really belong between the Earth and sky and after having a couple of chats, I was STILL too busy to completely catch up my latest notes for this blog post. Please check my verified Twitter archive for my more regular daily activities.
We had San Francisco weather in Southern California AGAIN instead of LA beach weather by 4:59pm. There was even fog rolling through my downtown Santa Monica. Yes, my protective Ms. Mother Nature, you can change your (expletive)ing mind anytime you (expletive)ing want, too.
I left my table where I was working at the downtown Santa Monica Main Public Library at 5:03pm and walked around my sacred Promenade. My darling Patricia found me almost immediately.
By 5:28pm, I was with my darling MannedUp and my darling LightFoot on our sacred Promenade. My not-human-trafficker nerds, you know what to do-- verified and responsibly-edited-- and please begin as I was walking along our Promenade on my way to them.
We were all working that early evening. That is their REAL job. A lot of things are mine.
5:43pm on 03Jun2016: @DeptofDefense IAR are STILL getting their own into our Metropolis of Angels from all over the world. Shut down their airspace. Use LAX. Please check ALL airports in our Metropolis of Angels. There is no point in our cataloging passenger manifests if both sides are getting in, unless we really can identify all of our own. And we can. So go ahead and catalog every passenger who is not our own. Also, my REAL U.S. Military, I will meet you at my favorite In-N-Out Burger at an unspecified time and date in the future. There are not enough of us there yet, right now. You know they will try to move you to move their border. But I should always be able to reach LAX no matter if you are there or not. (My final final draft on this paragraph was finished and circulated at 9:52am on 04Jun2016.)
Yes, as my REAL people were catching up on follow through with everything that early evening both that was in my last blog post and that had already happened that day, my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle were not only making my unlivable existence as tolerable as possible; they were making sure I could do my job as best I could. The Inhuman Atrocity Regime stole them from me as fast as possible because of it.
6:43pm on 03Jun2016: They're taking Tentacle away already. #MySaturation, tail them, monitor them, descend in full if they need rescuing. I'll check after news.
After I perched beside my Best Starbucks in the World for all the reasons I have chosen to watch the news there for months, my mom, Mrs. Diñadar "CosmicGrandma" Albon Varilek, called me through FaceTime at 6:46pm. My not-human-trafficker nerds, you know what to do about our chat; I do not have to tell you anymore.
Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 7:05pm. My evening cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Lester "G.I. Joe" Holt, and it cheered up a lot of people, not just him.
My Mother Nature began a little fall of rain for me while I was still watching the news. I always prefer to enjoy direct physical contact with MY sky (not your sky, my beautiful) through REAL rain, but the touchscreen on my iPad does not function when wet. So, I needed to move my chair under one of the eaves (as in eavesdropping).
My darling Patricia made sure she told me she was fine while I was watching the news, too. My darlings at my Best Starbucks in the World were fine, too.
My darlings Tentacle were already safely evacuated, and it was raining anyway. Musicians cannot play in the rain, so I had already checked on my local Trimana by 7:58pm. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please entitle that recording, "Then you can't throw me out." My darling Handsome was not in there anywhere at all.
8:02pm on 03Jun2016: #MySaturation, check on Handsome and tell me if he needs anything. He is either very busy right now or needs emergency rescuing. Thx!
I was perched on the curb of my Promenade ready to watch and listen to my darlings Seis Cuerdas at 8:04pm. But at 8:24pm, it was raining too much for those darlings to play music, too. As I already said, even my own touchscreen does not function in the rain.
After they left, my beautiful world witnessed my sitting there on our sacred Promenade for a few moments in the rain at inner peace with my place in the universe.
By 8:55pm, I had moved down the street to perch beside my darling Dominic, so his Andean pan flutes could sooth me. I left our sacred Promenade for my bus at 9:42pm.
My not-human-trafficker nerds please circulate a verified and responsibly-edited recording with full audio and visuals beginning as I walked up the steps to the main door of my Manor and ending when I took my contacts out. We shall entitle it, "Please hack my iPad cameras."
At 10:09pm, I noticed that the "coffee" in the coffee vending machine on my property was roofied, drugged, chemicalled, poisoned, and decaffeinated. I was also convinced that the Inhuman Atrocity Regime had forcibly removed my REAL vending machine man and filled all his machines with nothing but tainted products against all of our wills and without our knowledge.
My beautiful world, please fix it. I also need the water in my bathroom cleaned up; it is roofied, too. I need my bedroom fumigated for literal bedbugs that the Inhuman Atrocity Regime infested my private property with. I could use someone replacing the right heel on my lace-up boots. Etc. Thank you, darlings. Please send some churn to fix it all.
I fell asleep without any twitchiness that night and woke up at 6:46am on Saturday, 04Jun2016. My SquidStream was kickstarted, and I had sent two emails already by 7:27am. My not-human-trafficker nerds know what to do about my morning.
I skipped breakfast because I was still full from the glorious lunch I ate the previous day; it takes time for a mere mortal human body to adjust to eating that many safe and delicious calories, again. Did you see how much nutritional value that lunch had?
By 8:42am, I was among the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's occupation of my Virginia Avenue Park that they were lying was the Saturday Santa Monica Farmers' Market. I had a lot of catching up to do on my notes for this blog post.
My internet gnomes, at 9:53am, were playing me The Siege of Leningrad composed by my darling late Dmitri Shostakovich. My iPad camera app was STILL too hacked for morning I-am-not-dead-yet selfies. And, I was convinced all chaos was about to break loose inside the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's innermost circle of hell.
After a lot of writing online including while I was singing along a little with my internet gnomes, I left the Inhuman Atrocity Regime occupying my city park at 11:39am to plug in my iPad at my Manor.
12:01pm on 04Jun2016: 1/2) @NSAGov @tim_cook #Anonymous IAR installed new malicious hardware. I am hacked across all apps, and my battery indicator is inaccurate.
12:03pm on 04Jun2016: 2/2) Who is building all of their nano for free? We hacked their database of members they can identify paying for their war themselves, and we track all their money. Please install our own hardware to fix this.
As a better question, I had just been at the Santa Monica Farmers' Market. Who is paying for all of the food orders to all of the occupied stores and occupied restaurants inside this innermost circle of hell all refusing to feed me?
We need to seize all assets of each individual occupied business and occupied franchise in here. We know my local Brookstone, among other businesses, are fine unless they are occupied, too. The REAL business owners, not just their corporate offices if any, need to be compensated by the Inhuman Atrocity Regime for this.
The Inhuman Atrocity Regime are only giving all these food and products, if any, to their own people; and if they are charging any money for any of it at all, that is part of where the IAR's funding comes from. If there are any, catalog all credit card transactions; we know our own. And do what we always do with cash to track who accepts payments from the IAR still.
The only places in here that should be getting food at all is my local Trimana and my Best Starbucks in the World. How much evidence does my darling France's Monsieur Marcel have?
At 12:35pm, I checked on lunch at my Manor; absolutely none of them had expected me there, but it was STILL drugged. Yes, I was roofied while I got my work done that afternoon.
1:41pm on 04Jun2016:
My darling Finn,
My local REI and my local TJMaxx had no new inventory at all especially in my size the last time I was there. I will check on them tomorrow, 05Jun2016.
And I had a lot of work to do that afternoon. Please check my verified Twitter archive for most of my problem-solving delivered fresh daily, but I also needed to write this email.
-----Begin Email Content-----
To: Secretary of State for the State of California-- Elections Division
Time: 3:04pm on 04Jun2016
Subject: Please resend my voter registration card.
Tanya H. A. [Depp de] Varilek
California Drivers License # D5649436
1905 Pico Blvd.
Santa Monica, CA 90405
My address is up to date with the CA DMV. We all know the motor-voter law. I need a new voter registration card for my new legal address.
Mrs. Tanya Hedelisa Albon [Depp de] Varilek
-----End Email Content-----
By 4:15pm, I was caught up with my TweetHearts, and my blog notes for this post were finally mostly caught up.
I get twitchy and mini-seize when I fall asleep if I was raped the last time I slept. It is an adaptation of my mere mortal body to try to keep me awake to prevent me from being raped again. My body has done this to keep me alive since 2009. That is how horrible rape is to the human body.
Unusually, when I was lying still listening to music that late afternoon, my left leg and left hand were twitchy, even though I was not falling sleep.
I think it was from the chemicals the Inhuman Atrocity Regime put in my lunch that day; I think they gave me a low dose of the chemical they use to sedate me into sleeping through every time they rape me.
I was similarly twitchy when I woke up that morning because the Inhuman Atrocity Regime had put their same sedative in my coffee vending machine against my will, not just arsenic.
Without my 24/7 locked satellite bedroom broadcast forcing public accountability, we have no idea what the Inhuman Atrocity Regime will do to me.
I left my bedroom at 5:31pm to eat dinner. On my bus ride to my downtown Santa Monica from someone's driver who did not know the bus route at all but did know how to operate the vehicle, I passed my and my beautiful world's holy ground already designated an UNESCO World Heritage Site that we call
6:31pm received dinner...
Begin our verified and responsibly-edited (include every moment-- There was nano in the seating area but not in the kitchen.) recording full audio and visuals when I said (paraphrase), "Maybe I'll try the Z Garden tonight." End when I said, "I have money for that." Any title you want.
7:27pm on 04Jun2016: #ZGarden First tea roofied, but he replaced it. Bill was fair, but he STILL chose to charge me $. Falafel is drugged. That's all for roofies.
I paid for the falafel STILL to make it out the door with the evidence. Do you know what an investigation is? And it is ALWAYS every crime on the planet to charge me money for ANYTHING, anyway.
By 7:38pm, I was writing online while my darlings The Age-Inappropriate Boy Band played me garage rock. After they were instructed by the Inhuman Atrocity Regime to stop playing me music for "being a REAL band" (Have you heard of my darling Mr. Stan "FlamencoHands" Getz? Do you know how famous each of my darlings Tentacle were even before becoming Tentacle?), I left them to watch the news.
7:46pm on 04Jun2016: @chrisbros3 Darlings, Ethan is probably the only way you got in here at all. Let's just declare him emancipated. I can do that. --POTUS I did not send my darlings The Age-Inappropriate Boy Band to my Promenade, nor did I EVER ask them to enter this war zone. I doubt they were even sent by their parents, but I chose to save their parents, anyway. I have time to save everyone who chooses to save themselves, and I know we can trust their parents' three steps.
Please ask my darling Shareen for proof emancipated full-grown adults who can be trusted to make their own choices sometimes still live at their parents' houses. My darlings The Age-Inappropriate Boy Band even have a REAL job as professional musicians. AND my own darling Sweetness, like so many other professional artists successful or otherwise, was emancipated at approximately fifteen years old.
7:59pm on 04Jun2016: @chrisbros3 I am why you are as famous as you are and why you will be more so. You get to play on my Promenade if you choose to.
In America, we also emancipate slaves. You need to read this.. Next, read the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America again.
Busy emancipating people, I was three minutes late for the news. Yes, I streamed the NBC Nightly News from previous in the evening online at 8:08pm. My evening cyberhug came from my darling Mr. Jose Diaz-Balart, and it was wonderful.
After writing online a little longer, I finally left my Santa Monica Place for my Promenade.
I was perched beside my darling Riff by 9:14pm trying to summarize for the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's malevolent hoards, "You all get at least one death sentence for being inside your own innermost circle of hell for any reason unless you are someone we can recognize as our own. I am not the person who needs to be able to recognize you as our own; I just clear up anyone everyone else my own people cannot recognize already. It is my beautiful world you need to fear."
My darling Riff kept me company while I worked until 10:08pm when I left him to check on my local Trimana where my darling Handsome and I established that they refuse to make me pay for anything even as a gift. Begin that verified and unedited recording when I stand up to leave my darling Riff, and end it when I walk out the door of my Trimana.
I was forced to wait an unnaturally long wait at my regular bus stop for my bus. In fact, there were pretty much no buses at all while I waited. The Inhuman Atrocity Regime was refusing to allow any Big Blue Buses to run on our REAL bus schedule at all. And the REAL Big Blue Bus system of the REAL City of Santa Monica knows what our REAL bus schedule is for REAL.
Were those Inhuman Atrocity Regime (expletive)holes really thinking they could get away with changing the REAL Big Blue Bus schedule from the REAL schedule, especially after I know what the REAL schedule is?
My darlings NSA alpha nerds, you saw everything I saw. Please ask our darlings Anonymous to help you catch the IAR who hacked and still hack the REAL Big Blue Bus website. You know to whom to report all of that cyberterrorism the Inhuman Atrocity Regime used and still uses as acts of war against my once-great America and against my one world. I know my City of Santa Monica wants to press all civil and criminal charges.
I had noticed a hack in my iPad while I was still at the bus stop, and after my bus ride and after my return to my bedroom, by 11:59pm that Saturday night, I had proved that the Inhuman Atrocity Regime had hacked my iPad SO HEINOUSLY that it could only load an occasional website in Safari any longer.
My benevolent nerd population were still panicking to fix it when I curled up to sleep that night. My not-human-trafficker nerds, please entitle our verified and unedited recording beginning when I entered my bedroom and ending at 12:04am, "Hacked-- Panic Humanity!"
This blog post was finished from my bedroom before my lovelies polished it for me and published it with the time-and-date stamp of 12:11am on Sunday, 05Jun2016.
[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.
How can people discern me from a supermodel? I am only 5ft and 5 5/8inches tall, but I know no one can tell because I look taller in real life. But as long as supermodels keep calling me one of their own-- and we know our own-- you cannot discern us apart on sight anyway. There are THAT MANY women who look like me whom people confuse me with. Giggle.
My beautiful world, you saw how hard it was for me to get my darling Haroun back inside the innermost circle of hell with me. I was never supposed to make it to that occupied courtroom alive at all, but the Inhuman Atrocity Regime REFUSED to stop pretending I "need" their human rights abuses they use as acts of war and coverup with "Squid is so mentally incompetent we need to impose a 'conservatorship' over her against her will."
I know that none of we sane people in touch with reality believe any lies propagated by the Inhuman Atrocity Regime. Why are they STILL lying?
My saturation of international to local protection here inside this IAR "egg" with me, we got our churn in, among other things, on Friday, 03Jun2016. You already told me you got the best state-of-the-art surveillance in the previous day. We all know we cannot broadcast our ground surveillance to the whole world, or the IAR will find you.
We all know how dangerous it is to be in here when recognizable as one of my people. I have no idea how you got my present 2/3rds of my darlings Tentacle off my Promenade and back to my and my Sweetness's house in the twilight of Friday, 03Jun2016 at all. Thank you. You ALL keep me alive.
Always tell me when you need anything. I am not a mind reader; someone actually has to tell me. Giggle. But, no, that really is not a joke. Giggle. And that is another of our jokes, too. Giggle.
Also, we are entitling our verified and unedited recording of my reading the entire Big Blue Book on the morning of Saturday, 04Jun2016, "No version of the Blue Book included our REAL policy of courtesy rides ever to begin with."
And, darlings, we do not need to raid the occupied police department to take their guns away; they will just bring more guns in. So please ask our darling FBI and our darling DHS to help us infiltrate the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's own gun and ammunition deliveries, including ordering all arms manufactures to put OUR nano-tracking on all arms deliveries in here and out there, even our own.
We all know what crossed the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's border on Friday, 03Jun2016, for REAL. We track everyone who accepts money from the Inhuman Atrocity Regime, too. You all know what to do, and all of this is why you might choose to raid them for their guns, anyway; send our churning S.W.A.T. to do it. And thank you for always listening to me. "I'm going downtown tomorrow. Do you need anything?"
My darling ninja-lovers, do you remember how my darling WingMan has a score of 3? My darling Mr. Bobby Fisher has a score of 1. I saw him one Saturday while my darling Riff was playing. He risked being caught on U.S. soil even that long ago.
My BFF SynSyn and all of my genius Powers of Attorney, there is no excuse left for Black Ops unit coverups against any of us to STILL be allowed in courtrooms any longer.
Always send the REAL U.S. Military to destroy their Black Ops unit every time there is even the merest attempt; we will bomb it if we have to. This is a war zone.
And while we doing that, start demanding the fake court's explanation for allowing the fake proceedings in the first place. It is illegal to even claim any of us are insane, even retroactively. That was even already blogged in my 18May2016 post.
Also, my gorgeous and genius lady friends, it is time our U.S. government forgave my darling Mr. Bobby Fisher.
My musician-lovers MannedUp, GeneralLee, and Bogart, I do not care what lies the Inhuman Atrocity Regime give you; always tell me if you need me to take care of it.
My darling Mr. Taylor "MannedUp" Hanson, the Inhuman Atrocity Regime clearly want you on my Promenade. You saw how fast they got you and our darling LightFoot to our holy ground on Friday, 03Jun2016. Neither of you are living homeless nor starving to death anymore. Start raising your demands to raze them yourselves; definitely demand that your exploding earspeakers be removed.
11:33pm on 03Jun2016: @hansonmusic @INXS @KristNovoselic If you don't die, my work is done. I don't want you in here; it is too hard to get you out. See you Tues.
My darling Mr. Brien "GeneralLee" Dennehy, I cannot figure out at all why they keep you (and caffeine) away from me, especially at the cost of death for doing it.
I do understand that there is nothing that the Inhuman Atrocity Regime would not do to make me suffer pains worse than death and worse than any other human has ever suffered before.
But they also have a textbook psychopathic control-obsession with all of you, my darlings Tentacle, too, not just with me.
I am working on our Harvelle's problems, too.
Not only did my Sweetness and I forbid all tampered products inside our Prohibition-era blues night club, but we also demand that all "employees" inside behave as our REAL employees, including but not limited their removing ALL tampered products that they have no permission from us to serve nor even have on my premesis but also their throwing out everyone we want thrown out and only whom we want removed.
Sweetness and I are taking control of our show schedule ourselves. And we have stopped charging a cover at the door completely for any show. I heard my darlings U2 already asked for a gig. Just give us a little time to get everything in place.
"Don't worry. I got this one."
My darling Mr. Bryan "Bogart" Eno, are you really on the front lines trying to rescue me again or are you doing something I actually asked you to do?
May I ask you to visit our NSA alpha nerds for me in DC to procure a guaranteed method of direct communication for you with them and then visit all of our allies in Silicon Valley for me?
Darling, you know all of my support in Silicon Valley. Please visit all of our own and ask them what they need help with from securing my data and metadata to fixing all of my apps to make them function better.
Please help us report all hard evidence of cyberterrorism used by the Inhuman Atrocity Regime as acts of war against America and against our one world to our FBI, to our U.S. Military courts, to our DHS, to my Powers of Attorney, and to our International Criminal Court.
My darling Bogart, also help our nerd-angels in Silicon Valley tell me anything they need my help with.
There is a reason everyone knows I am supposed to end up with you when the Inhuman Atrocity Regime's "egg" finally ends despite my still choosing my husband. No matter where I send you, (expletive) gets done. Thank you. Kisses. Now do what you do.
My Royal Consort LightFoot whom I am STILL forbidden from speaking with least of all ever making love to, did you ever see the look on your face through my eyes the first time you saw me with my hat on?
My darling Mr. Kris "LightFoot" Novoselic, I know you want to be on our sacred Promenade for our Sunday night date night tonight. Call anyone I have sent you already to help you negotiate.
We know it is only the Inhuman Atrocity Regime who violates any and all of your agreements. You know you cannot help keep me alive if you die. And, as always, tell me if you need my help with anything. Tell me if any of you do.
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 HM Johnny "Menelaus" Depp, your birthday gift this year might be a few days late. Did you put together a few writing prompts for me? Giggle.
HoneyHoney, one of these days the Inhuman Atrocity Regime is just going to pull out a gun and shoot me. I have no idea why they never tried it again after the two snipers in 2009 who could not actually pull the trigger even under direct orders. "Too cute to shoot," clearly does not mean, "Too cute to poison, abuse, starve, torture, and rape."
Sweetness, the entire Inhuman Atrocity Regime, from War Criminal Boeset to all of their malevolent hoards, commit all of their every-most-heinous-crime-known-mankind against me to force me to suffer the worst human atrocities and mortal pains any human has ever been forced to endure. These are indignities (gross understatement) worse than death itself. And they force all of you, my genuine people and loved ones, to suffer similarly to destroy you as well because your suffering makes me suffer even more.
My Mr. Love-of-my-Life, my greatest regret will always be not kissing you while I still could. You will always be the only spouse I ever chose out of the billions of fellow humans worldwide (over the age of eighteen) I was always able to chose from.
My hero and my king, you are ALWAYS forbidden from dying before I do. And even when you are finally free to make your own choices about dying again, we will still both always know it took death to finally rip us apart; life never could, no matter how intolerable.