WE – DO NOT AGREE!

 BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

 

January 20, 2020

An American who grew up in France from 13 Hours, and remember 13 Hours is all about me, correcting your mistakes, and real friendly, the real friendly, is not Sona, the real friendly is the real Papa.  Already been proven he’s the real friendly.  Not just to his own country, France, to the United States.  He’s a real friendly, and I chose him.

I also, chose HL, and I chose, David.

It goes together with the ex-partner using an employee of The Container Store to “visit” with me in my home, with the use of the CCTV’s and the television camera(s), and the real Louis.  Rather than following orders of protection within my home, you allowed a real UN-friendly, the real Louis, in my house, and these “partners” are also, complicit in a pay-off for it.

It looks like this, you want to get near Cherith (the real Weapons of Mass Destruction, the real Sherlock) or talk with the real Cherith, I’ll take you, for – money.

I don’t see how that is in any way real intelligence work.  It’s a side business by way of real intelligence contacts, using real resources and getting paid money, either in law enforcement or intelligence, and pocketing money, just for people to talk with me.

Again, there is no real reason, I am not allowed to date and have friends for real, other than a group of people using me, as a resource and income, for – meets.  And, videos.

If they then, have a connection between production company(ies) making videos, and having it televised, and real intelligence and intelligence or law enforcement resources are being used in conjunction with the televised and video making, and the meets that have happened from 2013 until, currently, its more than a conflict of interest for both intelligence and the military.

Because the agenda, the goal, the mission, the purpose, is for ratings, and not for the best WIN, or catch, or capture, or kill that is on intelligence “lists”.

Who besides this Sona woman is terrified of me moving, with my family and select friends, out of state?  That’s a real problem.  There is no logical explanation for that either.

You’ve already downgraded me, stopped using me as Washington, DC’s killer by placing me on television and making videos.

You people did that.

So, I have no idea why people are acting surprised, or acting upset, or concerned, or are attempting to get me to want to look as though I am desperate to get back into either military or intelligence work, when YOU PEOPLE HAVE ALREADY LET ME GO, MORE THAN ONCE.

That’s why I don’t trust you people, anymore.

Requested photographs, remember they’ve been edited, can you tell, or can’t you.

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

 

January 20, 2020

Andrew Landry golfing profile with the club and upswing motion is correct of at least one British intelligence officer and agent of being guilty of purposefully, willful, and malfeasance, with intent to override, by-pass, any and all military, specifically military victories, to and for the United States.  And, the only photo that is correct is of the upswing with the club in his hand, with the photo ending at his underarm.  Not his torso, not his middle, not his legs.  What did he do during the Obama Administration?

He would hate America and Americans, and the United States.  It is also, a very incorrect mind-set from which to work as an intelligence officer, let alone an intelligence officer of a foreign country that is an ally.

It is the reason for the Buckingham Palace scene in Sherlock of an American asking Sherlock, do you know who this woman is?  It means, he is not a Sherlock, or a brain-palace-er, or a brain-thinker, and specifically – NOT A FUTURE THINKER.

You’re going to find out he is mentally unwell.

He’s all show, no substance.

He is personally responsible for an attack on an American citizen, my mother, while in the employment of British intelligence while working in cooperation in US intelligence.  He had help because he could not have done it on his own.

Has he used the code word, Mayhem before?  He has.  He is irresponsible.

The Angola allegations read, Meghan Markle is guilty, and what I heard is, she is guilty.  Just like the FBI man’s ex-partner – GUILTY!

Let’s re-cap, a British intelligence officer was allowed to work – with me – on US soil because I gave him – nothing, he, along with the help of other US intelligence officers set out a plan of ATTACK upon my family.

What is the logical reason for that?

What would an intelligence and intelligence officer’s have to gain, by attacking an individual family?

How many other people has he and other’s done this to?

No work this man has done in British intelligence – is clean.  You should hand him over to the terrorists.  He has his fingers in more pies than you will be able to locate and designate to him. 

Is that really how Great Britain wants to be seen?  It’s one thing for my own country the United States to be seen as not doing the best intelligence work, and making mistakes, it is quite another – for a foreign country, although we are allies, to be seen as allowing, an attack to happen to a United States citizen, especially for no just cause, other than I didn’t work with him, and NO ONE QUESTIONED – WHY?!

Cody’s girlfriend, he wants you to not be friends with your crazy friend.  His girlfriend is good friends with a woman who makes terrible, unthinking mistakes and actions.  She’s often dumb, or ghetto, or truthfully, a buyer into – stereotypes.  Meaning because there are stereotypes that are depicted in movies, or television, people “buy into” it by believing in it, rather than just being themselves.

And when the truth is revealed that this dumb friend did something really stupid, said a terrible thing, instead of just being a woman with a well of truth, or a truthful core, or a woman of any real convictions, regardless of the color of her skin, and hair, or what fashion label she may wear…she’s sort of laughs it off as just – being black.

And, there are a lot of people who will understand this, mentally.  However, the truth is, when you allow a mentally like that to perpetuate, flourish, continue, and NOT see it for what it truly is…I’m sorry because people are not going to want to read it, the comparable is – a slave owner mentality, that slaves, or black persons, are children incapable of the mental fortitude to think for themselves.

And, you people, don’t see this?

Because it’s funny?!

Yes, sometimes it is okay to laugh.

But, be careful to remember to look at yourself from the inside out, and not get caught in the preoccupation of looking at yourself the outside in.

More importantly, he believes, now more than ever because you are friends with a woman like that, it MUST say something about you personally.  And, although he loves you, he believes he is a better man worthy of a better woman to love him.  And, it’s true.

And, what happens in my bedroom, I don’t have to write or share with – anyone.

Here is another comparable, although I loved, platonically loved Stuart, when he got involved with Glen, and Carrie, and staying up all night playing video games instead of doing his homework, and getting to class on time at college, I distanced myself from him.  I was not unfriendly, or uncivil, yet he was no longer my true friend, and David, still was.

He wants to know, you should confess Cody’s girlfriend, if you love him for who he really is, for the man he really is, or do you love him for the career he has?

Do you love him enough to want to make sure he is – a better man?  Love him enough to want to make sure, every day, he is a better man?  That’s what marriage is.  It’s not just a fancy ceremony with photographs, it’s loving another person so much more outside of yourself, you will not allow them to be a lesser person, than who they really are.

It doesn’t sound like it.  It sounds like she loves his career.  Doesn’t mean it’s broken between them, that’s for them to decide.

Cody, also, probably feels a little convicted by way of feeling guilty about not having gotten married.  He’s never been married?

It struck a chord with him when I wrote about home ownership and marriage, on legal paperwork.  And, this is something my mother was also, really good at, it has nothing to do with the color of the person’s skin, it does matter how a person, presents themselves.

Presenting yourself is not the same thing as being superficially preoccupied.

My mother was really good at finding qualities, like what I’ve shown about David and HL, qualities in people, especially finding them when they do not present themselves in a person’s actions.  Like saying, no I see you for who you really are, and you are better than this, a better person than this, and what your actions – say – about you as a person.

If you were intelligence watching my mother interact with her friends, a lot of you, missed – a lot.

When I moved here to Florida in 1986, when I was fifteen years old, I went into culture shock and I have not yet recovered.  That high-level of thinking that happened with me in California that got kills like this…

…that level of thinking has not yet happened again, not really.  So, no, this photo is proof that you don’t get answers to questions – by sleeping with me.  This child has not been sexually assaulted, or fingered, or touched by either a man or woman, inappropriately.  She was simply – read, as they brain-spoke to her.

If you allowed Prince Harry to delude himself into thinking he had to prove to me that he loved me and desired me sexually – just to get you information about the attack that happened at Buckingham Palace, 2018, or January 2019, you were lied to, and you don’t know and can’t ask – questions.

It is not now, nor has it ever been the way to get – intelligence questions.  So, isn’t the real truth, you have a link to British intelligence that – needs to be on a leash, and the real reason Ammar is on a leash in the movie, Zero Dark Thirty is because YOU HAVE INTELLIGENCE THAT NEEDS TO BE REIGNED IN AND PUT ON A FUCKING LEASH, AND HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR ACTIONS!

Like Sona.  I get it, she hates me.  And, she is also guilty and complicit with the attack that happened at Buckingham Palace where someone made it past the gate and guards.

If this other compound woman had anything of HL’s on her person, SHE IS GUILTY!  IN A VERY BAD WAY, GUILTY!  AND, THAT IS ANOTHER REASON WHY SHE IS PHYSICALLY INTIMIDATED BY ME, NOT BECAUSE I AM A SCARY PERSON BECAUSE SHE IS CONVICTED IN HER SPIRIT OF HER OWN ACTIONS, AND IT IS REFLECTED IN HER, WHEN SHE – SEES ME!

Do you want to take a run at him, Zero Dark Thirty, rah-rah (run at him) speech, 13 Hours?  All that says is Cherith is a great motivator.  Since when no, that’s Cherith motivating people for no other reason other than she knows she can, so she does.

I’m not going to find Bin Laden from Washington, DC, Zero Dark Thirty, means, the only place they found Bin Laden was in Washington, DC, and NOT at the state level.  You want to put these state level people on a fucking leash?  Or, do you want the terrorists – to do it?  And, put them and America, on a goddamn fucking leash?!

If this is also, true, if the Afghani  government, truthfully went through the proper channels to get permission and authorization to work with me at my former employer, and it was also, done, more than once, and instead of allowing me to work with them, you allowed – subversion to by way of another black American female to happen.

It is probably the same woman, that is responsible for the tremendous fuck up and international snafu that happened with my FBI man at station 4, 1.  When Chris told me, I was going to take over the station.  Then, she’s also been allowed access to my neighborhood by way of other people, creating havoc, and a shutdown of my military brain just because she is ignorant of – Afghani people.

She’s ignorant.

Ignorant and prejudiced just because of the country of their birth, Afghanistan.

It’s tremendously stupid.  To not want to even speak to another country because they are another country?!  Stupid!  Especially since, we are at war with them.  Stupid.

Also, this boy behind me in the photograph, Creggan might remember his name, I believe he is Creggan’s friend, read his face.  What do you see?  Do you know how to read a child?  His face?  Is this Gary, Creggan?  His face, his smile, his entire face reads to me as a brain-thinker. 

Similar to a Sherlock, really, it’s says, smart, and brain-thinker.  He is probably, also, like me, under-employed.  He probably has a better paying job than I’ve ever had, yet he is probably under-employed, meaning, he could be talent recruited if anyone wanted to check.

If this is Gary, this is probably (I don’t remember the boy’s name) the same boy, has she started dating yet, from 13 Hours, who asked my mother’s permission to take me to the movies, on a date.  My mother told this story more than once.

It looks like to me, my mother was shocked, or caught off-guard, by the very young age I was first asked out on a date, four years old.

My response, I’m already an adult mother.  I’m fine.  It would have been fine.  I doubt we would have been alone; we would have been chaperoned.  It was just difficult for her to think, it wasn’t a sexually asking me out on a date.

And, really not allowing a four-year-old to go on a date is not bad parenting.  Yet, they (not just my mother) could have taken the approach of aren’t they a sweet couple.  Two little kids being grown-ups.  And, not made such a big deal about it.  Since, I’ve been allowed to date, so rarely.

And, if this British intelligence man is responsible for a masturbation only choice of sexual life, it’s meant to demoralize me.  More importantly, you are taking away a sexual life, from more than one United States military – MEN.

DO YOU WANT TO SEE THAT FOR WHAT IT TRULY IS?!  SUBVERSION?!  OR, DO YOU WANT TO PRETEND THIS IS JUST FOR SHOW?

 IS THIS COMPLETELY, FROM THE BRITISH SIDE?

There is no real threat, there is no reason, I am not allowed to talk to David for real, talk to HL for real, talk to a US military General for real, or this Englishman for real, or the countless military men whom I’ve seen and really, really like.

I think by your actions alone of this isolated, no man is ever allowed to physically touch me life, the ONLY REAL PURPOSE FOR IT SINCE 1992, HAS BEEN TO WEAKEN, DESTROY, BELITTLE, DEMEAN, AND TAKE AWAY UNITED STATES’ MILITARY – VICTORIES!

BECAUSE I AM MORE THAN FUCKING GOOD AT IT!  I AM BETTER THAN ANY OTHER – PERSON!

AND, JUST SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS AN AFFLIATION WITH ME, LIKE A FRIENDSHIP, OR A AQUAINTANCE THAT I KNOW, LIKE DAVID, OR ANY OTHER FRIEND HAS DONE AMAZING THINGS, SO WHY HAS NO INTELLIGENCE, LIKE THIS FBI MAN, EVER BEEN ALLOWED TO BE SEEN AS A FRIENDLY, WITH ME?!

A friendship, an acquaintance, these are really, really simple things to deny the US military and its intelligence.

I have been screaming about it since 2014.  But, to deny our own intelligence and our own military such a victory of not only my friendship, or acquaintance, a marriage?

I get it, my own country, the United States wants me dead.  Great Britain wants me dead.  The whole world hates me, and I am a nothing.

I don’t have to work with you because until I see it for real, until things change for real, until legal paperwork is real and not a display in front of my windows, until I am truthfully acknowledged, I just don’t believe you anymore, and I don’t believe either intelligence, or the US military wants me back, wants to work with me, and has sold me, as a media machine, just to sell news time and nothing more.

And, you got it wrong again.  You’ve taken dialogue from a movie, War Machine, about not smoking because of his (the General’s) newly regime of exercise, believed it to be a truth, when it is not.  Taking care of my mother from 1992 to 2012, is the only reason I was unable to take care of myself and be who I wanted to be.  Exercise how I wanted because that also, takes time.

Time, something this Sona woman has no comprehension whatsoever really is, and that goes together with her inability to fathom and comprehend, a budget.

This photograph has not been edited on my body.  What do you see?  Muscle tone and definition?  I didn’t exercise.  I didn’t work out.  I was active, I swam, played tennis with my father, but I didn’t exercise, and it is also, probably the reason it is in the dialogue of Gladiator, of a natural physique. 

I wasn’t flabby, and that dumb double military man you allowed to be seen in the movie, War Machine with that real military man, if not a General, that I am sexually attracted to, connecting him to me, by proxy, and continuing a false story by way of me running, or not running, I want his fucking face punched in.

That military man is more of a man, then that hustler, of a solider has been allowed to be.  That’s why I eyeballed him and stared him down.  It’s not my fault, I did it in such a way, you missed the real read of my reaction to him.

This place is depressing, and you have depressing people around me, just to get me to die, slowly.

I get it, you all want me dead.

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

 

January 19, 2020

I wrote this short story mostly here in this house in 2012, I had started writing it in our previous home.  Why someone wants this this be re-posted, I am not sure.  You should ask yourselves questions when you read, about the characters and what you think of them.

To me, re-reading this short story says, writing ability, possible talent, I needed to write more, to refine my style, and I have wanted to write children’s stories about my cats since I was in my 20’s.  Cat adventures, as the real character’s they are.

When I re-read this the other day, I spoke about how it feels when you see someone you love, like my mother, and you’re mad, and angry, or selfish, and you don’t want them to be the person who now is suffering, you want them to be the person they were – before.

Reconciling in your mind between the person they are now, and the person you want them to be, happens.  It’s not bad or wrong, it is just a part of being a human being, we – feel.

I wasn’t in denial about my mother’s physical condition, I just wanted her to be WELL again.

When you break things, they don’t always go back together the way they were before.  Sometimes not at all, and sometimes you have to find the them, look for them, in their failing body.

And, it should never have happened.

My mother had one of the sharpest minds, it shouldn’t have happened.

More importantly, she was too young.

I titled this, For The First Time, although it’s perhaps not the best title.

Also, if you are a sentence or paragraph reader, being a sentence or a paragraph that is able to encompass a very complex meaning and apply it to literature, that’s – intelligence.  It’s not necessarily a profile, or a program, it is still intelligence, and it is highly delicate work.

It would take me a very long time to try and detail “teach” what sentence or paragraph reading through literature in intelligence, how it works, how it looks, how to apply it, and that is what a lot of my writing has been focused on.  Showing intelligence how to do better work.

A person with the ability to sentence or paragraph read through literature, in intelligence, is a very rare quality.  Not many people have it and it is a most difficult concept to comprehend.

Here’s the sentence that sums up the whole of the short story: Pushing on the bar that ran the width of the glass door, which led to the outside, the door remained as I found it, unopened.

Read it, and then, read the story, and then read it again.

You either understand that, or you don’t.  This is also, very high-level thinking.

 

For The First Time

By, Cherith Gjestland

 

Pushing on the bar that ran the width of the glass door, which led to the outside, the door remained as I found it, unopened.  Holding onto that bar I leaned back all the way to the soles of my feet and rocked on my heels, with the momentum I gave an effusive push and opened the door wide with room to spare.  Free from the door, I walked outside.

I stood in a courtyard of squared concrete, the sun had shifted in the sky leaving long fingered shadows yet keeping the heat and swallowing me with the humidity.  A wooden pergola stood in the middle to offer shade for the concrete picnic table full of picnickers invisible from sight.  Hard rectangle slabs of concrete formed benches that surrounded the courtyard where no one sat.  From behind I heard, “Here she is.”  The nurse had brought my mother in her wheelchair.  I told the nurse, “She likes to be outside.”  The nurse looked me in the eyes, but said nothing, and walked away.

She sat in her wheelchair complete with a headrest to keep her head stable.  Pillows had been positioned in the seat to keep her from slumping to one side or the other.  Her PEG-tube, which for some reason was a good four feet extending from her stomach, had been coiled and neatly tucked into her elastic waist band knit pants.  The left side of her lower lip dragged down and allowed saliva to escape and form a tiny pool at the corner of her mouth not much larger than a tear drop.  I still had not gotten used to this newly altered state of my mother’s once perfectly precise and put together appearance.

My mind wandered back to the moment in the kitchen and the image now burned into my brain that replayed on a never-ending loop I couldn’t stop and caused my whole body to seize with terror, my muscles to contract and stiffen as if awaiting an expectant blow.  I knew the moment it happened; I had been at work diligently pounding out the tasks that allowed me to be employed, then something stopped, quietly and without words, I knew, yet did not know, nor did I know what to do.  A persistent pull like a child’s tug at her mother’s skirt hem never left my mind or heart until I finally left work, early and unsure.  When I arrived at my mother’s home, the window in the front porch which allowed welcome guests access into the home’s hub, the kitchen, I saw.  I dropped everything in my hands, even my keys, fumbling to recover the keys and searching for the one key that opened the front door, my heart beat wildly out of control and all I heard was the boom of my blood pumping out of my heart and filling my ears with cacophonous explosions.  I ran into the kitchen taking note of her glasses neatly folded one arm under the other lying upright on the opened oven door, not the door to the large oven that could cook a turkey but the small oven door on top that was used to cook gingersnaps and sugary snickerdoodles, I found my mother lying face down on the over-sized ceramic tile floor.

“Stroke”, the doctor told me with the grace of an East German Olympic athlete during the Cold War, with one word the doctor reduced the whole of my mother, her intelligence, her wit, her beauty, her soul, into a non-thing, a word which was to replace all other adjectives I had ever believed and known about her before.  “I can show you the CAT-Scan, “the faceless doctor insistently urged in his cold metallic manner because he perceived my reaction as disbelief.  He tried to placate me by placing his fine un-calloused hand on my shoulder; all I felt from him were the flimsy textbook pages from which he had studied for years and the coolness with which he understood it all.  I turned my head and thinned my lips, and with everything in me I resisted the impulse to snap his arm off from his shoulder.

The stroke left one side of her body unable to remember how to work and function, how to step and walk, how to grasp and release, how to chew and swallow, but the real war lay buried deep behind countless steel doors, one shut upon the other, all different sizes, shapes, configurations, and a constant search to find the master key.  Connections in her brain were severed, blocked, malfunctioning, out-of-order, round pegs in square holes trying to find how to fit together again.  She spoke in single words, not in sentences and only sometimes, you had to be there for it to happen because she was not able to repeat it again.  Her hearing was intact, yet the device that allows us all to comprehend and perceive words out of the noise and sounds that fill our ears, was lost.

The air lay stagnant inside the courtyard, I feel the long shadow from the oak tree just beyond the courtyard slice me with its generous shade leaving my feet to be the only part of me lit in the falling sunlight.  I search my mother’s face trying to remember who she was before the metal chair she is sitting in, before her lying face down on the over-sized ceramic tile floor, when she was strong and so capable and like a superhero to me with her ability to find a solution to every single problem I encountered, and I feel myself failing, the crispness of her body has already started to fade, blurring, the edges are no longer traced with a black line.  I begin to wonder who we really were to one another.  She is my mother and I am her daughter, but we weren’t always friends or even friendly at times just like most mothers’ and daughters.  I feel a strange sensation not like nostalgia grip me in the small tidy corners of myself where I keep the stories, I never tell anyone neatly tucked away.

Parts of me covered in shadow are begging to speak, to know, to understand, to tell and share secrets, I don’t feel the desire to reminisce about how my mother would help me fall asleep when I was scared or too excited to want to lie still by taking her finger and tracing a letter on my back and I would guess the letter and eventually the word, or how she taught me to bake bread by kneading the dough with the heel of my hand, or the time she physically shoved me into the room where the Drama club was meeting and slammed the door, forcing me to overcome my irascible shyness and bring out my gregarious giggles that I barely showed anyone.  I want to share with her about the times we didn’t talk to one another.

I remember when puberty came and stole the simple and unaffected language, we used with each other.  My first love was a hard one for my mom to accept.  I fell in love with black eyeliner.  I felt the gap begin to open between us the first day I left for school with my love circled eyes.  Black eyeliner and I were soul mates finally discovering each other, and black eyeliner soon became the only friend I would speak to, confide in, and share secrets with, leaving my mother out.  Quickly followed were the years of flirting with boys trying to figure out that dance, but never really succeeding, or understanding all the dance steps and I soon became convinced that my dutiful and faithful mother’s words, I love you, were merely the words of an actor playing their role.  The rebelliousness of teenage years left a distance between my mother and I that grew into a wide ravine awaiting a flash flood.

Then the day came when he walked into a room and I smiled at him like the little girl I still was, he said he loved me, so I left home for him because I thought this is how I start my own life, and as fast as I walked out the door, I fell away from everything I had ever known.  The next two years I spent moving, always moving away.  I moved seven times because I had to move because his love was a love that hurts.  I found myself walking one day when I saw a police station.  I stopped for a moment staring at the police station on the other side of the street when I decided right then, I could not go in, I turned and went the other way, and just as the police station left my periphery I felt the white-hot metal pour its liquid lava over me, starting at my head, washing over me in waves until it reached my toes and into the ground.  I felt it cauterize every pore, every organ, and every cell to the depths of my soul, and then I kept walking because I knew that was the only way to survive.

Once I was able to walk back to my mother and try talking to her again, I could never tell her my shame and why I always, always, always looked over my shoulder.  It kept a space between use physically and emotionally, yet she was still my dutiful and faithful mother who told me she loved me.

A tiny lizard hurriedly crossed the courtyard and stopped almost dead in front of me; I squatted down to get a better look at him.  His eye tilted upward to get a better look at me.  I turned my gaze toward the interior of the courtyard studying the harsh landscape when I heard my mother say, “I love you.”  She had only spoken about a dozen words in the nearly forty days since her stroke, yet the moment she spoke I dismissed her precious words like one swats away a buzzing fly.  My mind was still concentrating and consumed with myself and what I wanted to say and how could I possibly tell or share anything with my mother anymore when I stopped just for a moment and felt something shift in the deepest part of me, an un-stumbling of blocks, of sands shifting.

My mother, the last person in the world I had left who loved me, yet I ignored and distrusted her and her words.  Then, without warning, I felt a trickle of a thought, who had my mother been before she was my mother?  I knew what she had been, a child, a daughter, a teenager, a young adult, but who had she been?  Did she have dreams that never came true, had she known disappointment, sorrow, hurt, pain, joy beyond motherhood, happiness without regret, blind passion, unbearable forgiveness, sweet satisfying sex, a tender touch that melts the world away?  Had I ever really looked at her beyond the fact of being my mother?  Had I ever loved her beyond being my mother?  Sometimes isn’t that why we say, “I love you” to fill in the gaps that we can’t yet reach?  We know those gaps and spaces exist, yet we fill the holes with those three words until we can mend our own wounded gaps, fill the spaces, or acknowledge our own tidy corners.

Suddenly, for the first time what I heard was not simply, I love you, what I heard was I see you, I believe in you, I see you.  I understood my mother for the first, I began to know my mother for the first time, I started to glimpse my mother for the first time.  I fell to my knees with tears streaming, trying to place all my emotions and hold on to my newly softened understanding, and I felt a sloughing off of all that dead skin I had held so tightly that I never realized had deformed me, the deadened tangled nerves, a labyrinth of dead ends I created to keep anyone including myself from finding, me.

I walked over to my mother, I gently brushed away the hair from her forehead, and I kissed her cheek and said, knowing even as I said these words that she could hear me, but she would not understand me, “I love you.”

I stepped behind her wheelchair, grabbed a hold of the handles and rocked back on my heels and pushed until the wheels in the wheelchair began to move as I pushed her inside.

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

January 19, 2020

Debunking.  One reason they’ve started this White House, by proxy in this home, I am not even sure people are really aware of this, was for the Secret Service.  There is at least one person that believed I could really go through the electoral process and get voted into the White House, and that would have been a way for – MY PROTECTION. 

At least one person saw the need for me to be under constant protection like the Secret Service, for the rest of my life.

Yeah, I would have given the FBI, Waco as a problem because they had cause for concern that a church was stockpiling guns, weapons, illegal weapons, and the reason it took so long?  Fifty some odd days to end the siege?  I was working the over-night shift.

The problem got the alert read from me about Waco, literally as something as simple as me walking to my mailbox to get the mail, it’s what it looks like.  And, whoever was trying to FBI speak to me while I was at my employment, just didn’t know how or what brain-speaking was nor did they believe in it.

I see a lot of un-believers in brain-speaking at the Waco scene, and that’s not really negligence.  It’s just historically been proven to be a mistake.

And, this is how a Sherlock like myself really works because I am not the only Sherlock in the world, I am the ONLY BRAIN SPEAKER, AND TRANSLATOR IN THE WORLD.  You had a man nearby me, while I was with my father, and it has nothing to do with my father, or the location, or anything else other than, this is how I, as a Sherlock really work, if anyone wants to prove it.

You had a man near me, my father said something about his eye glasses, this other man did not even think, or was thinking about anything in particular, he just has – history – from a crime scene, in his head and brain, probably the Oklahoma bombings, or there is also, Waco. 

When my father spoke about his glasses and he said something about the tint, meaning they are transition lenses that turn to sunglass tint in the sun light and clear, otherwise.  I used the word graduated because there are a lot of words and images to go through really quickly whilst having to look as though I am talking to my father when really someone else is talking in his ear, and THAT MAKES ME MAD!

Graduated as in, or meaning, gradient.  Gradient in the tint is what I was trying to say.  However, to answer this other man’s question that he really doesn’t even know is a question is, gradient.

There is a over the area of Waco, Texas and it is on something as simple as a pencil, from a suspect’s belongings.  Meaning an intelligence officer, like an FBI man, wondered why a suspect would have this pencil in his belongs.  Don’t be so literal, it’s not really a pencil.

The answer – because it’s a grid.

And, I can get you these answers MUCH FASTER than the way you’ve been working it and me because typing this out, reading the news, and typing again, and so on, only takes time, and time is EXPENISIVE.  THE LONGER SOMETHING TAKES TO SOLVE, OR CLEAR, OR BATTLE THROUGH, THE MORE EXPENSIVE IT BECOMES.

Here’s the grid:

I don’t have a very good map, this is the closest I got, so I know the locations are not that precise.  It looks like latitudes and longitudes, a grid, with the latitude lines being thicker in the middle, of a specific measurement, until nearly the ends, the location cities, being thinner, gradient.

Crazy sounding, I know.

Latitudes:

Lubbock to between Mt Pleasant and Texarkana.

Big Spring to Tyler and Nacogdoches.

Big Lake to Livingston.

Langtry to Houston.

It’s a domestic terrorism grid of activity, that is still live.

And, I just don’t believe you, anymore.          

             

That’s why I didn’t wear the ring.

A message got to me, to wear this ring, by way of a dress I no longer own, and a conversation I had with Rachel Robar before the Inauguration in 2013, that looks like Rachel shouldn’t be involved because although I look simple, and people hate me,  I’ve been given names, like Keyser-fucking-Soze, for a reason.

The dress goes together with earrings I don’t wear because I am not allowed to dress myself and be – fancy.  It’s a nightclub dress, a dress you would wear to a fancy night club, not a bar, a night club, have drinks, dance, and have a fancy mixed drink, not wine or beer.

It’s probably the reason they had Rachel’s father as my bankruptcy judge for me, to read him.  And, I read him as good.  That means, he got played.  And, it wasn’t his fault.  It’s the reason for the phone call I got, probably 2005 to 2008, about the Russian adoption.  There was no alarm in him about him, surrounding him, or anything in that phone call other than, why doesn’t he love his wife.

That’s all it said to me.  He doesn’t love his wife, and that’s not really a crime.

I got a message asking me to wear this ring as I left my home today because it says someone believes there is a double agent spy at Enverna.  That means both in Virginia and in Great Britain, and instead of warning you, I let it happen.

Want to fail me, again?

Sona just doesn’t make my criteria, I will never approve her, and the proof of it is me walking my father to his car with me telling I wanted to make sure he would get to his location safely.  It means the base wasn’t secure, that’s what’s in the War Machine scene between the General and the soldiers.  The US base wasn’t secure.

Because a soldier who doesn’t understand, is a problem.  Really all that says is, Cherith is a mirror.                                                                                                                                                     

And, me hugging my father only says, again, how much I really like this real military man, for real.  Someone want to explain how that WIN got taken away from THE UNITED STATES?!

FOR ANOTHER MAN’S WIFE?!  FOR OTHER MEN’S WIVES?!  AND GIRLFRIENDS?!

SO, WHAT’S REALLY GOING ON OTHER THAN YOU ARE ALL HATE ME AND WANT ME TO DIE?!

I can’t stand how depressing it is here.  Especially, with no outside places of my own, the outside is another thinking place for me.

Depressing here!

It does look like this military man who’s read me as sophisticated did fall below 100%, and all that really looks like is a battle lasted five days when it could have been defeated in three days, and don’t be so literal.

And that 2010 volcano explosion looks like a message that says, Good Ground, meaning me.

Depressing here.

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

January 19, 2020

Every day here, gets progressively worse, and worse.

I get it, everyone surrounding me everywhere I go, wants me to know, how many people hate me, and want me dead.  That’s what this body weight and what has been allowed to happen up my nose since 2014, these are all the people and countries that hate Cherith, dislike Cherith, want Cherith dead.  Don’t want to watch Cherith, on television or make videos, something she doesn’t want to be a part of, you would rather surround me with millions of wanna be’s rather than just let me be.

And, you let me know everyday how many people hate and despise me.

The military hates me, the CIA hates me, the FBI hates me, intelligence hates me, men hate me, women hate me, children hate me, and the world is set against me, for my death.

Whoever is responsible, if it is David, for this video, documenting my life – life, is not able to control it.  They can’t control it.  So, it gets worse, and worse every day.

Franco has no idea what he has involved himself in.

Everyone, like this FBI man, as over-extended themselves, trying to work this video life.  Do their real job, while working me just like my alive family members, work them for free when they are not, working at a paying job.

I am devastated and really, really angry how you took HL, and why you took HL away from me.  Then, I have to relive my tragedy of my mother’s death over again because Harry has been around since I was in college, by proxy.  He and I have never met, he has always done it by proxy.

Everyone should be wondering why they would allow a reader, me, and a mirror, me, to work or be around people by proxy.

No, I resign, I don’t want to work for intelligence or the military anymore, and I don’t have to go to one store or the other to prove it.  That fact that I am at a desk, “reporting” or “writing” meaning correcting people proves I am no longer working on cases, with intelligence, or with the military.

You can’t control what you’ve started in this house because it was designed for me to die in.  It gets worse every day.

The whole world hates you Cherith, that’s why we want you to die.

I miss real life, really talking to real people like David, like HL.  And, the only real reason its been taken away from me, real life, was to watch me die.  I get it.  You hate me.  And want me dead.  Watch me die a little more every day until I cease to exist.  Because you hate me.

So, depressing here.

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

 

January 19, 2020

I am so very sad, so let’s not have dinner.

I don’t think anyone understands how hurt I am at the loss of HL.  Not even his friendship, am I allowed, not really.  And, I am hurt.

I find the use of British Intelligence by means of harming my mother, just to prevent me from WORKING, and more importantly, working with the United States military, beyond repair, and so very harmful.  Because you sent, Harry, to investigate it.  Before and after his marriage.

I knew it, when I heard it.  I need to get over David?  From a “Harry” proxy?!  Rather than something as simple, as speaking – for real, with David?!

I saw David for who he really is.

I see HL for who he really is.

I see a man as an adult with special needs, for who he really is.

I see “Cody”, for who he really is.

I see the real Diller for who he really is.

Yes, I see other people too, like the people talking through other people, BUT THAT IS NEVER CONFUSED IN MY MIND, WITH THE PERSON – IN FRONT OF ME.

LOSING HL IS NOT BAD ENOUGH, I YET LOSE MY MOTHER, ALL OVER AGAIN BECAUSE BRITISH INTELLIGENCE SENT – A BAD MAN, AND I TOLD HIM SO, BY NOT REVEALING, HOW I KNEW HIM TO BE.

You’ll be hearing from me, Sherlock, from BBC’s Sherlock, code: YOU’LL BE ME, SHERLOCK.  YOU’LL BE JUST LIKE ME.  AND MY RESPONSE?  NO, I WON’T.

That’s how bad this British cell of intelligence is, I’d rather die for my country – THAN BETRAY IT!

AND, THAT’S WHY THE REAL DILLER IS SEEN IN CODE WITH WINSTON CHURCHHILL (12 STRONG, AND HE’S CHOSEN SOME UNLIKELY, YET GOOD MEN!) BECAUSE A MAN LIKE HIM, IF NOT HIM, IS WHAT IS NEEDED – TO MAKE SURE THAT A WORKING INTELLIGENCE RELATIONSHIP LIKE THE US AND UK ARE NOT – COMPROMISED, JUST TO GET TO USE ME!

It read all over me, all over my face, and person I was sexually attracted to this sexually potent, US military man if not a General.  HOW THE FUCK DID THIS GODDAMN STUPID ASSHOLE GET TO TAKE – THAT – AWAY FROM THE US, AND A US VICTORY!

Let’s recap, David was the strongest man and male in my college, HL WAS BETTER AT INTELLIGENCE AND WORKING – THAN ANYONE I’VE SEEN – SO FAR!

SO, YEAH, I AM REAL FUCKING PISSED – WHEN YOU UNDERMINE ME!  AND, MY AUTHORITY – THAT HAS BEEN GIVEN TO ME!

No, James Franco does not get to replace David for the simple reason, David knows more.  He just does.  And, he doesn’t really know what he’s gotten himself involved in.

If you are constantly playing – catch up, you are LOSING THE GODDAMN BATTLE AND WAR!

Sophisticated, urbane, and cruel.  Forgive me if it has taken me awhile, to see the truthful read this other military man, if not a military General that is seen in the movie, Black Hawk Down, has seen in me.

He’s read me as, Sophisticated, Urbane, and Cruel.  Good!

It is also code, in his mind, as a trap to be used to catch – others.

I am sophisticated.  I am urbane.  And, I am cruel.

Cruel because I have no problem sending these motherfuckers to their goddamn graves.  That does not mean, I do not have empathy, for others.  Be careful.  It’s a good trap.

So, why there are military Generals, and military men, DUELING for my location, CURRENTLY, I have no idea.  I don’t live in a fantasy world, or a make-believe world, or a world of fairytales.

This real-life military man that the movie Black Hawk Down is based off of believes, I NEED to be in Los Angeles, California.

He actually says, and reads as, California. 

When I look at the map of California, the ONLY workable location, is LA, Los Angeles.  The only one.  It pings all over the place.  Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping!

I have no idea what work they are doing at the military base in Los Angeles, but THAT PLACE PINGS LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER!

JESUS, IT’S BRIGHT, AND FUCKING BUSY!  BUSY!  B-U-S-Y!  BUSY!

Most likely, they don’t really know what they are doing there, YET.

This also, sent me into a bit of, WOW, JESUS CHRIST!  I CAN’T BELIEVE MORE PEOPLE SENT SUCH A BIG MESSAGE – JUST TO TALK ABOUT ME, AND HOW GOOD I AM, AND – WORTHY.

I’m sorry, people.  That 2010 volcano explosion in Iceland, reads that it was set and done, intentionally, for me.

WOW!  That’s a lot for me.

It goes together with a theory that looks pretty correct, from the movie, The Peacemaker, someone stole a nuclear warhead, for real, and no one could, relocate it.  Hid it on the black market, until, the 2010 volcano explosion in Iceland. 

This from Sherlock looks pretty correct, replace a plane, with a dead body(ies), full of Plutonium and drop it in a volcano.  BECAUSE I HAD QUIT MY EMPLOYER BECAUSE I HAD TO TAKE CARE OF MY MOTHER, and people were so upset at the LOSS OF MY PERSON.

Let’s call Hezbollah because we feel like blowing shit up!  Dammit!  She doesn’t work there anymore!  I guess we’ll just blow shit up then!

It’s a little difficult to realize.  Because, I could have done better.  If YOU had done your FUCKING JOBS AND PREVENTED AN ATTACK UPON MY MOTHER AND PERSON – FROM HAPPENING!

Is this also, true?  Are those children and people from Bin Laden’s compound, on the fucking dole?  Are they being supported by the American dollar because of BIN LADEN?!

I have a problem with this.

That woman that was e’scared to be read by me, is intimidated BY ME PHYSICALLY.  THAT’S A PROBLEM.

YOU, DUMB FUCKS, AGAIN, ARE NOT DOING YOUR JOBS, BY PLACATING A FOREIGNER’S FEELINGS BECAUSE SHE IS TREATENED BY ME – PHYSICALLY!  MAKING ME FAT, AND FATTER – MAKES HER FEEL BETTER!  YOU SHOULD BE FUCKING WORRIED!

KEYSER-FUCKING-SOZE!   KEYSER-FUCKING-SOZE IS A NAME GIVEN TO ME – FOR A REASON, JUST LIKE HER!  IF SHE IS THREATENED BY ME PHYSICALLY, YOU HAVE A FUCKING PROBLEM!  IT MEANS SHE HAS INFORMATION, IS UNWILLING TO GIVE IT, AND IS PROTECTING – TERRORISTS, BY HER ACTIONS!

Obviously, I am sophisticated, and you blew that meet (13 Hours) I had with the “Mark/Harry” proxy!  By, sending two little boy-men, who HADN’T SEEN THE FUCKING WORLD YET, AND YOU HAD TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN!  WITH A REALLY HANDSOME, GOOD-LOOKING GUY, WHO’S KILLED PEOPLE, MORE AGE-APPROPRIATE, KNOWS HOW TO HANDLE A FUCKING GUN, AND THEN IT FINALLY READS ALL OVER MY PERSON, OH, HE’S SO ADORABLE!

WHAT THEY FUCK WERE YOU PEOPLE DOING SELLING – “MEETS?!”

I’M GOING TO HOOK THIS GUY WITH (CHERITH), 13 HOURS!  WHAT THEY FUCK WERE THEY DOING BECAUSE IT HARDLY LOOKS, CREDIBLE.  MEANING BAD!

You have one military man who would like me to be near, Mac Dill Air Force Base, and another military man who believes I belong back in California, for this word alone, sophisticated.

When my mother passed away and died, in 2014, the desire for me to return to California, has gone, has left me.  When I drove there in 2014, it was gone.  It no longer felt the same.

I would need about a month to scout out property and land near Los Angeles (and, millions more dollars) for me to approve any transfer.

And, for fuck’s sake you can’t even handle the media in Tampa, Florida, how the fuck do you think you are going to control paparazzi in LA?!

The media here in Tampa, are uncontrollable.  They are not on a leash, or with restrictions, or being admonished for any BAD BEHAVIOR!

THEY ARE CONSTANTLY INTERFERRING WITH INTELLIGENCE WORK.

Um, and yeah, I did give the FBI information about the Waco, Texas raid.  Because they were stock-pilling illegal weapons, and it still reads that way. 

Warning, warning, warning, they are a threat, and it was ONLY BECAUSE THEY WERE STOCK-PILING WEAPONS, AND IT IS ILLEGAL.  If there was any conversations, they had about – DRUGS, its code, and a ruse to fool people.  Nothing about them, there location, or anything else, suggests, drugs, it ALL SAYS, WEAPONS, GUNS, ILLEGAL STOCK-PILING, AND YES, YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT A “CHURCH” hording and stock-piling guns.

You should also be worried about a man that wants to be seen as having an affair, after recently being married.

You should also be worried about any man that has penis envy for – ANOTHER MAN!

The Oklahoma bombing, Timothy McVeigh, has he really been executed?!  It’s really disappointing to me, if it is true because Timothy McVeigh also reads, as BRAIN RESEARCHED.

IF HE HAS REALLY BEEN EXECUTED, YOU WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO RECOVER THAT INFORMATION – ABOUT BRAIN RESEARCH; THEREFORE, THEY GET TO CONTINUE REPEATING IT!

I am also, more upset at the loss of military work I get to do, I AM UPSET AT THE LOSS OF BRAIN RESEARCH WORK, I GET TO DO!

I would have to read Timothy McVeigh for real in order to confirm if it is brain research.

A reader – MUST READ!

This McGregor beats story reads true – what’s this about?!

I have no idea why this man sent his job resume to me, I AM UNEMPLOYED!

I think, I have nothing more to say to you, like if there is a suspect within Buckingham Palace – YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN!  MY SERVICES ARE OFF-LIMITS – TO YOU!

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

 

January 17, 2020

Be advised and be warned, Great Britain.  You have a very bad cell of intelligence that has been working and IS ALSO, RESPONSIBLE FOR MY MOTHER’S STROKES.  AND, POSSIBLY, MY FIBROID CYSTS.

Sorry about dinner, from Sherlock is really the nation of Great Britain and not just one man.  You let, “Sherlock”, that is to say, British intelligence the use of me?  During my employment from December 2003 to August 2009?  And, I gave them – nothing?!  Not so much as a sneeze?

Then, you had a bad cell of intelligence – AND, THAT IS WHY THE LONDON BOMBING IS IN THE MOVIE, ZERO DARK THIRTY!

How could you?

And, this is the only reason Prince Harry was interested in dating me?  It’s a very gross reflection of his character!  I GAVE HIM NOTHING!

That man you have in custody, is going to die.  I suggest you let the others be given to American intelligence.

Do NOT bring them to church.  Beyond being inappropriate.  Other people’s lives are at stake, the only place for me to interact with other people, such as this subversive who NOT ONLY WENT AGAINST HIS OWN COUNTRIES ORDERS, HE DAMAGED, HARMED, MAIMED, AND HURT, PERMANENTLY DISABLED A UNITED STATES CIVILIAN, MY MOTHER, WHILE IN THE EMPLOYMENT OF BRITISH INTELLIGENCE, is no longer available to you!  That was my former employment!

HE DID IT FOR NO OTHER REASON, THAN TO PREVENT ME FROM WORKING WITH THE UNITED STATES MILITARY.

IS THAT REALLY HOW YOU WANT BRITISH INTELLIGENCE TO WORK AND BE SEEN WITH AMERICA, AND THE UNITED STATES?!

He is going to die, and he is not the only one.

An apology just won’t do, anymore.

How very hurt I am, Great Britain.

How very hurt.

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

 

January 17, 2020

Um, Gulf War?  Is this timeline, really correct?!  Really?!

1990 to 1991?  This was the Gulf War?  Really?  It says Tex-Mex restaurant.

The Gulf War says my employment at Tex-Mex restaurant.

And, OH-MY-GOD – they gave me whatever schedule I wanted being the night shift, to work with – my other employment.

And, OH-MY-GOD, what have I NOT been able to do since 2013?  Get a second job.

You want to tell me – AGAIN – intelligence CAN’T?!

SOMEBODY SHUT THESE MOTHERFUCKERS UP!  OR, STOP WORKING ME.

They gave me whatever schedule, I wanted, including free food to take home, until a WOMAN showed up and CHANGED MY GODDAMN SCHEDULE.

That was all me, Michael Wayne Brown, was not a hand, and not on hand for the Gulf War.  They would have had different people, different and more access to me by way of – windows to read me.

If you had military intelligence following me to get you Gulf War access, Michael Wayne Brown would have been very disappointing.  And, another reason he left me, after this Russian (he is a former Russian solider) beat him up.  He would have been very disappointing and that is being polite.

You would have had men who would have wanted to take over the “scene” – just because of Michael.  It would have been difficult for a lot of men involved because, you didn’t know, what you didn’t know, like my family’s lives were at stake.  Did you know that, then?

Let’s recap, the Gulf War, on a hostess’ – salary.  Wow!  That was no more than $20,000, annually.

Wow, you assholes look like a bunch of fucking cheapskates!

The military doesn’t need me?

Right?!

BE ADVISED: THE FOLLOWING AND FRONTAL CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO A MAN WHO ISN’T AFRAID, AND IS WILLING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A WOMAN, AND THAT WOMAN IS CHERITH GJESTLAND AND NO OTHER!

 

January 17, 2020

Who’s the fucking dumb-dumb that has been using a dog’s model because it’s in the movie, Zero Dark Thirty, about being the CIA’s fucking dog?!  They’re dead, right?!  I mean they’re dead now.  Right?!

These morons would have also been in the building in 2016 TRYING TO FIND A WAY TO KILL MY CATS, TUESDAY AND THURSDAY BECAUSE THEY WERE ATTACHED TO INTELLIGENCE AND BEING USED TO PLAN – MILITARY STRATEGY!

BEEN TRYING TO KILL THEM SINCE 2014!

Off you Pop and talk to people from Sherlock…

…YOU DUMB SACK OF NO GOOD SONS OF BITCHES!

I FUCKING TOLD YOU!

Off you pop, really says, smoke, not just cigarette smoke, smoke, cigars and cigarettes.

And no, it would have taken Sherlock, to fool them, and he wasn’t – a hand, MEANS, you would have needed ME, Sherlock, to READ HIS FUCKING EX-PARTNER IN ORDER TO HAVE KNOWN SHE WAS NO-GOOD!

He wasn’t a hand because that is actually referring to Michael Wayne Brown, he has a real penis, balls and all.  And, I fooled them all.

You wanna try talking Russian next time?

It’s the only time, you’ve ever been able to make – contact – with me, through this FBI man because of his RUSSIAN!

 WHOOPS!

He’s only spoken to me, one time in 1992, and the second time was, 2003.  WHAT THE FUCK TOOK YOU SO LONG?!  CROTCHETING?!  KNITTING?!  WHO’S RESPONSIBLE – FOR THAT?!

Because I am Israel, it is my name, a Hebrew name.  Dog, code, your MY God, there is only one God, the God of the Hebrews.

He doesn’t live on a leash.

YOU SHOW THAT MOTHERFUCKER WHAT KILLER EYES LOOK LIKE!  AND SHOW HIM WHO GOT TO DIE – BECAUSE OF MY KILLER EYES!  AT THAT FUCKING AGE!

SHOW THAT MOTHERFUCKER!