10:03 PM
How can I beg for shelter from my sons? What to say?
Are all the prostitutes reptilian?  That would save me a lot of thinking.
If I ever make a video I must not pick my nose.  If I will be in public again, I should practice eating with other people and using manners.
9:48 pm
Steely Dan:Home At Last (Drum Cover)
Oh for crying out frigging loud.  OF COURSE:  That’s why my sons are pissed:  THEY DON’T WANNA DO THEIR HOMEWORK.  “Dear God forgive me.  I thought they were men.  Give them appropriate fortitude please.  Soon.  Thank you.  Amen.”  I make them HAVE TO THINK!  They wanna watch peekachu and pokemon and StarWars and Crazy Eights.  They DO NOT WANT TO CONSIDER THE HARD STUFF.  There are machines to do that.  Machines with skin like them.
9:25 pm
Wow.  I’ve been batting clean-up for a whole lot of superstars.  I’m stunned to see the larger picture.  There’s so much more.  Infinite layers of meaning and extrusion.  I’m becoming more visual in my revelation.  I still cannot see the players though.  I think that is the part of my ancient dream where I drove my family out of disaster and stopped just ahead of disaster although I was COMPLETELY BLINDED by an explosion’s light-vacuum and I gave the wheel to Jesus and told him to drive because I could not see.  I DO NOT SEE the spirits I encounter.  I think that’s a bigger miracle than I think?  I’m a sign and a wonder.  I just can’t imagine how.  They laugh when they see me coming, right?  They expect I’ll be an easy mark?  Then I crush their windpipes beneath my shoe-sole?  Accidentally?  Is that how it looks in the cloud?
9:11 pm
I’m glad I was born beautiful instead of smart.  For one thing, I no longer wear glasses so nobody could even tell if I were smart or not.  Do you know George gets frustrated trying to choose a parking space at Wal-mart?  Public appearances were difficult for him.  Until boot camp, he was unable to approach a teenager working at McDonalds in order to obtain a packet of ketchup.  He tells the story with pride.  I did a lot of trail-blazing for him over the years and he’s had a fairly normal life.  It didn’t need to be that way if you know what I mean.
If George were more belligerent and opinionated,  somebody might have abducted him and put him into a unit.  But, he never made any waves.  He never stood up for the downtrodden and he was modest enough to believe he had.  Such a paradox of contradictions with no basis in principle.  Obedient.  Consistent.  Blase’.  Google:  robotoid.  I don’t hold it against him if he’s an organic robot.  How could I?  But also, how could I have influenced him any better than I did?
8:44 pm
This is so great; I wouldn’t have missed this party for the world.  I just poked in to get some food and meet Roy.  Not a bad assemblage, a couple girls even.  They’re waiting for an engaged couple to arrive, so they can,  all, wait for it, they can WATCH SOMETHING ON GEORGE’S NEW FLAT-SCREEN TV.  My son is absolutely every caricature and it’s hard to watch but like I said I wouldn’t have missed it.  He’s gonna need me.  They liked the food I made; it’s almost all gone; George ran the grill.  Isaac’s got himself the Playboy Mansion and it’s so much fun he doesn’t even notice  Hef looking over his shoulder.  And his dad pays the bills.  And grills the dead animals.  And I did the dishes.  In this world that was, before the summer of freedom, here at Helmer-Skelter.
8:01 pm
Isaac’s having a party tonight.  More people just arrived and judging from Connie’s barking, they were cool and syncopated.  I hope I made enough food.  I didn’t bake a cake today because I felt down about being evicted and shit-upon.  I don’t anymore.  But I don’t bake anymore… eye-ther.  Isaac washed dishes today, after reaffirming my promise to leave in two days.  He now has his own party-pad and his dad is so grateful that he IS NOT REQUIRED TO MAKE A DECISION that he won’t say a word.  He’ll buy the beer; he always does.  Isaac will be assured that his way is best for everybody else; Josh will be superior and a bit disgusted but satisfied in the knowledge that he GOT RID OF JESUS FROM THIS HOUSE.  Isaac’s having a ball.
I’m in my room as usual.  Even so, I take up too much space.

Take It Easy

7:57 pm
Isaac doesn’t know this song.  So far.

Heartache Tonight – Eagles – Cover

Eagles do NOT REQUIRE a covering.  Not in the conventional sense.

7:45 pm
I can see Isaac singing to Jesus and making music with a bunch of cool guys.  I mean before, I could see it. Nowadays he’s gotta be the big wing-ding.  Also, worshiping Jesus is not sufficient demonstration of his vocal talents and charisma.  Yeah, right.  Maybe that’s because that’s actually the whole point.

Do You Hear What I Hear? (Home Free) (Christmas A Cappella

Isn’t this a beat-box hymn?  Maybe it’s scatting.

7:36 pm
I wonder how come my sons can accuse me of having mental problems… and then make jokes about the mentally impaired?  They did a whole skit about a ‘bi-polar’ on the way to the fish fry. When they abandoned me to the enemy of freedom and humanity, that’s what the industry labeled me.
Why do they hold my ‘illness’ against me and they don’t hold it against George that he’s retarded?  They don’t even say the WORD much less accuse him of INTENTIONALLY CHOOSING TO BE THE WAY HE IS.  He was probably cloned in the Marine Corps because he’s not like any Marine I’ve ever heard of.  They should say, “You make mom uncomfortable because you never get her jokes.  Also, you collect bottles and cans and BOXES that are an eyesore and also a fire hazard.  Leave this house immediately.”
I wonder if God really told me George would die or if it was the NSA.  THAT’S THE MESSAGE that got me into this mess and it hasn’t made my life very nice either.  For ALL THESE INTERVENING YEARS, every time George is late, and that is not an uncommon occurrence, I HAVE WONDERED IF HE WERE DEAD, AND DID HE HAVE MY PHONE NUMBER WITH HIM, AND WOULD THE COPS COME, AND WHAT WOULD I SAY TO MY SONS.(At this point, I’d just throw up my hands and say I TOLD YOU SO.)
I was accused of plotting George’s murder.  In a perfect world maybe.  I take that back. We’ve been divorced FOR FOUR YEARS and he still hasn’t departed MY CHILDHOOD HOME for his mother’s pad and he even gave a woman a ring. My DAD AND MOM SAID I WAS GONNA KILL HIM WHEN I SAID GOD TALKED TO ME BECAUSE THEY DO NOT HEAR HIM TALK TO THEM AND THAT’S A PITY BECAUSE THE BIBLE SAYS THAT “MY SHEEP HEAR MY VOICE AND ANOTHER’S THEY WILL NOT FOLLOW” so IF THEY DON’T HEAR JESUS’ VOICE THEY DO NOT BELONG TO HIM.  Which begs the question:  if my parents aren’t following His voice, then WHO ARE THEY LISTENING TO?
WHO DID I HEAR?  I think I have a right to learn that answer.
Long Lonesome Highway
“Goin’ down that long, lonesome highway.
Gonna live life my way.”
I wish I had my very own ‘spitball kid’.
Isaac said I was brilliant.
Isn’t he just the berries?
Music Break-
Dedicated to Isaac, my former partner in crime.
Cab Calloway “Some Of These Days” 1937
“PETER!  You’ve become a pirate!”  (Grandma Wendy to the fully grown and unkindly dispositioned Robin Williams as Peter Pan)
JESUS Explains… ‘Togetherness with Me’ – Message from July 1st, 2016
7:13 pm
I picked 12 four-leaf clovers at the Prophet’s house.
I bought thimbleberry jam for Josh.  My grandma used to pick thimbleberries in the Copper Country but I’ve never tasted them.  The jam was sixteen dollars but you don’t see it often and I’ve never seen it ever when I had a twenty-dollar bill.
The Prophet’s grandson is praying that my sons will let me stay in my house.  “Change their minds.”  I gave him a clover and also one to give his uncle.  I gave the Prophet a very nice one too.
1:44 PM
The goons put dirty pictures into the head of a WORLD-CLASS PRUDE who knew fully-well that they did not originate with her.  They messed up.
1:41 pm
Josh said last night, ‘Well, we didn’t mean for you to have to completely go.  If you went for three months you could come back.”
1:28 pm
I remember one time at Helmer House a cook stole some food.  My dad came through the kitchen screen-door and found a snuggied container of shrimp and steak just outside.  He made me watch him chastise her.  
He said, “Linda, are you hungry? If you’re hungry you just come to me and ask me and I’ll give  you food to eat.  Don’t steal from me.”
(It’s a good schtick, eh?  Oy, vey.)
1:09 pm
I got out a big suitcase and asked people to locate my sleeping bag that I used to keep in the trunk.  Isaac said they “have made it too easy for me around here”, so I am to be punished, presumably for the luxury of last winter during which I was not required to manually  maintain a fire to heat their man-bods.  I bet they missed seeing me in my Sorels with  wool-layers over my nightgown as I went outdoors every night at 3 am.  Lots of times they were just calling it a day when I got up.  It’s surprising to learn that  I’ve had it so very easy.
I just made some baked beans: Isaac’s friend will be joining us tonight from Minnesota en route to Montreal.  I don’t know how much hostessing I’m in the mood to perform on my second-to-the-last legal night in my home.  I made a big bowl of tuna fish-pasta salad yesterday.  I’ll probably bake a cake.  I’m not getting too worked up about guests anymore and I expect that’s appropriate now that my status here has been defined.  My son’s eyes are wicked.  He knows it too and he laughs about it.
Wish I knew a real Disciple of Jesus the Christ to come help me pack.  I don’t have any idea what to take but I do know this; I felt like I’d explode this morning making small talk and pointed jibes with Isaac.  Then I left the compound to pray and suddenly the organic matter took on a layered effect, like an old shimmery postcard, or maybe a hologram.  Everything is in super-relief when I’m not here and I don’t fear much except I still fear my name.  Yesterday a woman asked, “Aren’t you Linda Goldthorpe”?  I never know if they’re referring to the me who was on billboards and ballots or the me that was broadcast over the police scanner as I WAS ABDUCTED AND FORCIBLY DETAINED.  I’d like to be somewhere else, but SOMETIME ELSE.  Helmer-Skelter.  Summer is my very best thing and as soon as I enjoy something it is removed from me.  God will replace it with better but also I’d like to be here for my sons.  They will need their mom.  Isaac and I gazed at the lake this morning, he’d like a long dock, like a pier.  I used to own this place.  I had dreams too.  He said he’s seeing ‘the bigger picture’.  I hope that was prophetic.

Micah 7:5-7King James Version (KJV)

Trust ye not in a friend, put ye not confidence in a guide: keep the doors of thy mouth from her that lieth in thy bosom.

For the son dishonoureth the father, the daughter riseth up against her mother, the daughter in law against her mother in law; a man’s enemies are the men of his own house.

Therefore I will look unto the Lord; I will wait for the God of my salvation: my God will hear me.

10:31 am
I’m going clover-picking.
My sons’ revelation of remedial family-history will go in stages.  First of course, it will be a recognition of my dad’s character disorder.  Then they will consider their father’s allegiance to him instead of their mother.  Then I think they will see all the dirty-work they did for their grandfather, and the dark agenda they served.  That will be the dark night of the soul for both of them.  Jesus will be there for them when they pray.
10:04 am
I was feeling so happy these past two months since Isaac went away and even after he got back.  Now I’m panicky again.  I couldn’t sleep, my chest-insides were moving all around.  The demons in my sons just will not let me relax.  I’ve pleaded the Blood of Jesus against them so I should be settling down pretty soon.
 I can’t bear to be kicked out with nowhere to go!
I can’t bear that they believe this is righteous!
I can’t bear that my dad has not been held accountable!
9:30 am
Bump to the top, from 10/24/11
I’m telling this magnificent monster-dog that he’s dealing with a puppy.  I grab his skin and shake him and look into his eyes.  I say…”THAT’S A PUPPY!  You can not act that way!”  Somebody’s gonna get killed here.  My money’s on the pup.  They knocked over my grandma’s fireplace vase, it’s about three feet tall, and very cool.  They’re quiet now.   Dogs know when to shut up.
The divorcing couple says “the fat lady sang”.  It’s over.  I talked to them both today.  Apparently he threw my book at her and said, “That’s YOUR book now.”  (Mr. Wonderful, who owns the most GWEN towers of anybody in America and GWEN towers can immobilize a person and I was immobilized repeatedly for two years.)   How do I get into these things?  He’s angry because she wrote to a male friend.  He expects me to be outraged.  I wrote to another man for two years with my husband looking over my shoulder.  It’s hard for me to get upset.  
These people are really going to come here to stay.  “That’s what we’re here for.”  “That’s why we’re doing it.”  “Probably tomorrow we’re gonna care.”
The atheist has no ground to seek.  There is no cover.  It’s apparent.  He has no pictography for success.  He can’t visualize “win”.  Even if he “wins” he’ll never know if his victory is secure.  He won’t live to see it.  Pity.  Pain.  Why bother?  If I drew my final breath this moment, I’d still win.  There’s minimal pleasure in that knowledge.  Does Jesus feel like this when he considers atheists?  He loves them so much.
Successful says smart means you can know things, brilliant means you can create them.
9:20 am
Bump to the top, from 10/11
When I was little, my grandma made buttermilk cakes with thick chocolate frosting and everybody would eat them sitting around her kitchen telling jokes.  Dad and Jimmy and others would perch on the counter kicking their feet against the metal cabinet doors. I looked up at them.  The bear cookie jar was up next to the fridge. Gloria didn’t always get the punchlines, and people made fun of her.  (I think Marty and Cliff stopped by a few times, it was before she got married.)  Jay was in West Pakistan. I looked up to him too.
Gloria and Kent spent their honeymoon north of McMillan in a trailer.  All the local guys thought it would be real funny to have a “Shiveree”.  (Chivari)   Kent of course, having grown up on the West Coast didn’t know about this rural “joke”.  He was very green and Gloria had been stalked by an old boyfriend for years.  When they heard the chainsaw start up outside their window way up there in the woods?  Now that was a story.  (I never thought that joke was funny.)  (Neither did they.)  I also heard odious tales of misplaced outhouses and other practical jokes with no punchline.  I listened well.

At one time telling a joke was important.  You could look or smell different, but if you found common ground to make people laugh…you were OK. Nowadays, people judge as they’re told.  Sad.


Telling  a good joke implies a number of things:    


Appropriateness:  Gotta know the crowd!  Don’t tell a “knock-knock” joke to a Jehovah’s Witness.

Common knowledge with listeners:  If they don’t know what you know, it isn’t going to work.

Justice:  People love a pie in the face.

Pertinence:  To time, crowd, location, and currently interesting topics.

Recognition of the absurd:  Sometimes absurdity is wasted on a particular audience.

Recognizing cause and effect:  What we expect, is not always what we get.  That’s pretty funny.

Self-recognition:  If you can’t take the heat in the kitchen, go somewhere else and pour some coffee.

Shared understanding of human behavior:  Failures here resort to irreverence and pranks.

Timing:  You tell your joke when the time is right.  

Verbal discipline:  (These are not in order of priority.)


You can tell other things about a person’s “mental health” through their use of humor.  Self-denigrating humor isn’t funny after a while because we all know it means the person’s self-esteem is compromised.  Excessive dependence on “bathroom humor” implies an adolescent preoccupation with toilets.  Or tits.  Often one can determine a person’s kindness, or lack thereof, by their joke selections.  One example might be putting smoked cheese inside a birthday cake prepared for a person not ordinarily celebrated.



Dad and I should have a joke duel.  No, a sarcasm war to the death.  Sarcasm duel with Dad.  

He issued the challenge.

He chose the weapons and nurtured my skill.

I demand satisfaction.

(OK Dad, your turn)  

—Return to now

9:01 am
Bump to the top:

Here’s one time they tried to kill me with electronic weapons:  October 24, 2011

“Sick, I was as sick last night as I’ve ever been in my life and it was frightening.  I was instantly drenched, the deluge left hot-flashes in the dust.  Mud.  I was losing consciousness, other times I’ve always been conscious, and I never, ever felt what my heart and breathing did.  I was ripping off clothes and calling George to come pray for me.  Then I couldn’t talk.  My limbs started jerking at one point, oh it was so scary.  As George prayed for me there were some guttural vocalizations, my breathing calmed down and eventually the palpitations and sweating stopped.  He put “Calamity Jane” on TV as I recovered, and started working at a nearby computer.
I asked him, “You know I’ve been really struggling since the haunting left.  I haven’t interacted much with the spirit realm, and I’ve questioned my definitions.  But this time, I really was attacked, wasn’t I?”  His answer shook me up.  He said, “I didn’t want to tell you this, but all day long your neck and face looked like you weighed twenty pounds more than you do.”  By that time I could sit up and he looked at me.  “You look completely normal now.” He still believes in demons too.”
(I wrote about 125 pounds of this stuff…I swore to much of it and had it notarized.)
(I sent a lot to Dad…he wouldn’t talk to me.)
(Alpha-falfa MOO)
At this point, I think I’m the most mentally healthy person I know.  (Except George, Isaac and Josh.)  I expect very little from myself or anyone else.  That’s healthy.  That’s “pragmatic”.  One can be effective if he doesn’t expect too much.  I told God once, and I’m not sure I should have, “Don’t let me just defeat Satan.  Let me astonish Satan.”  I asked him to let me demonstrate his power in such an amazing way that spiritual beings must lower their heads.  Every head must bow, and they will.  (This stuff is in my journals.  I want them back.)
Also from 10/24/11, the night my dad said my book was ‘exceptional’
I’ve been trying to listen to a tape Growmaster made.  He wrote on the case, “Shit my dad did.”  It’s taken me weeks to get through the shit his dad did.  They lived really far in the woods, and when Dad left for the day, they were completely isolated.  I had a hard time with the story of how their father held them by their ankles outside a second-floor window.  (This was not a fit of passion.  He held each of them, in turn.)  When a gunshot went through the bed, I turned off the tape-recorder. The bullet passed through a wall and a dresser on the other side.  (Growmaster’s sisters were in that room.)   He remembers going to school for a couple years, here and there.  Growmaster still takes his baby to visit the old man.  It’s 100 miles, one-way.  I get to see that baby too, tomorrow.
My dad apologized last night.  He said he was sorry he’d been a “bad dad” and that you don’t get to have your babies over again.  I told him that I’d like to be his friend.  He said I was “scary”.  Whatever.  He’s said that before.  One time I asked him, “Why can’t you just let me love you like I want to?”  He said, “It’s scary”.   It was scary for me every time he woke me from the bedroom door, pitching a shoe at my head, so I guess we’re even.
He made three trips bearing leftovers from a Halloween party.  He brought huge tubs of ice cream and 1/2 gallon of hot fudge.  I was so amazed at his second trip, that I cracked a joke looking around for hot dogs in his car.  He went back and got some. (Maybe he even stopped to buy some, they didn’t look like a commercial package.)  My dad does things like that.
He’s always the first one at an accident, and he saves people’s lives.  He’s the most generous person I know, other than George and Isaac I guess.  He loved his mother very much and every year gave her roses, on his birthday.  The best presents ever, he takes people places all the time.  He researches cool things. (If he and Isaac ever got to spend much time together, they could teach each other a thing or two.)
Isaac reports amazing smart things that Wonderful tells him.  It surprises him how many principles of business stewardship I already understand.  Wonderful knows I do.  I listened to my dad, even though he wasn’t talking to me.
My dad was not a bad dad.  My dad was a lonely dad, and it made me lonely too.  I always wished he would yell. He wouldn’t slam a door, he closed  them with static precision that stole my air.  He’d walk very softly, still does, as though he must defend each footstep.  I’ve seen him bite the nipple from an exquisite European truffle and throw the rest out the window.  To prove he was in control.  (Sometimes chocolate calls him.  He told me that.)  It’s a hard way to live.
We were watching family videos the other day.  I wanted my babies to be perfect.  I had waited a long time and was jaw-set to do things right. (I cried in a Big Boy parking lot because my mother commented on how much food we got on the floor.)  This video though, was gorgeous boy-baby, lying on his back and refusing to perform.   My hands were in his face the whole time.  I was tapping his cheeks and demanding:  Smile!  Smile!   I was just like my dad.
 George says, that if I got my journals back, he could remember enough detail to write his own version. “Out of the mouths of two or three witnesses shall a matter be established.”
 —end historical transmission
8:43 am
I hear now, words that my dad intended for a long time.  He knew how things would play out; he’s a master manipulator.  My sons both say:  “THIS IS MY HOUSE.”
The fact that it was stolen from me under false pretenses notwithstanding, I may not remain.  It doesn’t matter that I moved into this house in 1964. It only matters that THEY are uncomfortable and THEY must control me and THEY must figure out a situation for their dad.
“Lord.  I don’t even know how to pray.  I’m so disappointed that my sons are still demanding that I leave my home.  They say no amount of demonstrated recovery matters, they say, ‘I don’t care.’  I offer to change my behaviors and I hear,  ‘I don’t care.’  I am just unacceptable.  Nothing is OK with them except total control of my life situation and the contents of my mind.  Lord, that’s not OK.”
“Please give me divine love for them.  Please do not let me feel offended.  My life belongs to you and I WILL TO NOT TAKE IT PERSONALLY that my sons want me gone and different.”

“The number of victims continue to grow steadily,  and into the millions within the USA alone.  However, people all over the world, in every country are reporting suffering the exact same dynamic and apparent Standard Operating Procedure.”

Sleep deprivation and fatigue:

  • Silent but instantaneous application of “electronic caffeine” signal, forces awake and keeps awake
  • Loud noise from neighbors, usually synchronized to attempts to fall asleep
  • Precision-to-the-second “allowed sleep” and “forced awakening”; far too precise and repeated to be natural
  • Daytime “fatigue attacks”, can force the victim to sleep and/or weaken the muscles to the point of collapse
  • Kidney’s cooked so victim wakes to use the restroom all night long

Audible Voice to Skull (V2S) is the Hearing Voices Effect,

It is also known as the DOD “Voice of God,” Synthetic or Artificial Telepathy, Remote Neural Monitoring, Frey Effect, Neural Decoding, DARPA Sonic Projector or Neurophone technologies.

  • Delivered by apparent at a distance radio signal
  • Made to appear as emanating from thin air
  • Voices or sound effects only the victim can hear
  • Vicious/malicious names called victims around the clock from operators

Inaudible Voice to Skull (Silent Sound):

  • Delivered by apparent at a distance radio signal;
  • Manifested by sudden urges to do something/go somewhere you would not otherwise want to
    Silent (ultrasonic) hypnosis presumed
  • Programming hypnotic “triggers” – i.e., specific phrases or other cues which cause specific involuntary actions
  • Subliminal manipulation and influence of anyone around the victim creating chaos, negative ill feelings, for isolation and separation



Violent Muscle Triggering (flailing of limbs):

  • Leg or arm jerks to violently force awake and keep awake
  • Whole body jerks, as if body had been hit by large jolt of electricity
  • Violent shaking of body; seemingly as if on a vibrating surface but where surface is in reality not vibrating

Precision manipulation of body parts (slow, specific purpose):

  • Manipulation of hands, forced to synchronize with closed-eyes but FULLY AWAKE vision of previous day; very powerful and coercive, not a dream
  • Slow bending almost 90 degrees BACKWARDS of one toe at a time or one finger at a time
  • Direct at-a-distance control of breathing and vocal cords; including involuntary speech iv.
  • Spot blanking of memory, long and short term

Reading said-silently-to-self thoughts:

  • Engineered skits where your thoughts are spoken to you by strangers on street orReal time reading sub vocalized words, as while the victim reads a book and BROADCASTING those words to nearby people who form an amazed audience around the victim
  • You sub-vocal thoughts are repeated to you by the operator over and over again and before you even verbalize it.  You look in the mirror and the operator says, “You’re fat, etc” which is what you were thinking.  Heaven help victims if they are depressed with depressed thoughts of sadness, pain and suffering.

Direct application of pain to body parts:

  • Hot-needles-deep-in-flesh sensation
  • Electric shocks (no wires whatsoever applied)
  • Powerful and unquenchable itching, often applied precisely when victim attempts to do something to expose this “work”
  • “Artificial fever”, sudden, no illness present vs. sudden racing heartbeat, relaxed situation
  • Focused attacks to the joints of the body resulting in hip, knee and shoulder deterioration.  The eyes are also periodically hit over a long period of time resulting in slow high blindness…

(I wrote even about the ‘dancing toes’ in my first book in 2011.  I thought it was spiritual.)

8:12 am
Buddhist Monk Died for 3 Days and Was Shocked to See Buddha in Hell! Believes in Jesus Now! (Video)

The next thing I was aware of was the sound of weeping. I heard my own mother cry out, “My son, why did you leave us now?” I also heard many other people weeping. I realized I was lying in a box. I started to move. My mother and father started shouting, “He is alive! He is alive!” Other people who were farther away did not believe my parents. I then placed my hands on the sides of the box and sat upright. Many people were struck with terror. They cried out, “It is a ghost!” and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.

Those who remained were speechless and trembling. I noticed I was sitting in smelly liquid and body fluids, enough to fill about three and a half cups. This was liquid that had come out of my stomach and my insides while my body was lying in the coffin.
People were astonished. I told them about the men I had seen in the lake of fire, and told them that only the Christians know the truth, that our forefathers and us have been deceived for thousands of years! I told them everything we believe is a lie. The people were astonished because they knew what kind of a monk I had been and how zealous I had been for the teachings of Buddha.
I wrote last night, after I learned that my sons had NOT decided to let me stay in my home for the summer:
I shouldn’t have smashed the phone. (Actually it didn’t break.  I haven’t used it since February.)  They’ll want to talk to me when they wake up and it would be unloving for me to be unavailable.  I won’t go far God willing, because my sons will hurt worse than they’ve ever imagined.  They will ache and blush and gag.  They’ll need their mom, because she gagged before them.  Then she gagged on their behalf.  I’ll not go to their ‘pharmaceutical-free’ funny farm, because to do so would give credence to the notion that I may lie about my dad, or that my morals and memory are diseased.  I’m not a liar and these things are not so.
I’m loving this time; I’m loving waiting for Him to fly through here flinging Truth-nodes at all exposed synapses.  I want to be vindicated but much moreso do I want to be on his arm.  I want Him to include me in his ‘gentleman conversations; and his associates will NEVER see me undressed.
Somebody’s gonna love me.  He’ll love me because He knows me and I am studiously virtuous and hopefully fun.  He’ll defend me.  No man has ever defended me.  Until now.
5:25 am
JULY 12, 2015
begins here:
(It won’t bother me if I’m the only one.)
All my life I’ve wanted to please God. He told me to keep milking goats and nursing babies. I spent many thousands of hours praying and many more studying, and in 2001 I received the Baptism of the Holy Ghost, and began to have visions and prophetic dreams.  Finally, in 2005 God gave me a job to do.  I ran for a judgeship, then for Congress, believing every day that I was doing God’s will…and expecting something amazing.  I was not disappointed;  I was endorsed by Dr. Ron Paul and met truth-focused political activists and received campaign donations from all over the country.  But I didn’t get a job.  I still prayed a lot, often all night and far from home; I met and spoke to people as God directed me, and my father did not like any of it.  (He did not speak to me though, of course.  He prefers anonymity when sabotaging lives.)   Dad filed a false police report claiming that I was dangerous, and he abducted my children.  I avoided being locked up in 2009, but his attempts did not stop.
I wrote a book* in 2011 describing events I experienced.  As a SPIRIT-FILLED CHRISTIAN, I was accustomed to hearing voices and I relished the privilege, and  I could RECOGNIZE  WHEN SOMEBODY INVADED MY PRAYER-PLACE.  I had studied the history of government mind-control, and frequently thought my experiences were very similar, but I couldn’t imagine I’d be targeted.  In my book I attributed my torment  to spirits, and although my terminology was naive, I do today SWEAR TO THE TRUTH OF EVERY WORD.  After Dad read the book he brought his crew to my house (he HAD NOT BEEN TALKING TO ME) and cut down trees and dug up the septic system and spent a week fixing everything on the property.  I thought he felt sorry for me about what I had suffered.  (I did not yet know the guilt he carries.)  By the first of 2012, he knew I did not understand  the torture.  He asked me to sign my house over to the boys.  I ALWAYS respected my dad very much so I did as I was told.  All communication ceased once I’d done his bidding.
THEN ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE; HIS SMEAR CAMPAIGN GREW WINGS, and he (admitted, it’s documented…) tried to lock me up again. I was tormented and tortured and followed and gaslighted.  He has refused to speak to me about these matters ever since, as has my mother and my brother and everybody else.  I have been completely isolated since Dad first decided to lie about me.  He has known ALL ALONG, that I am sane, and I kept records of our VERY RARE exchanges to that effect.   He has tried to buy me off numerous times, with bank stock, a credit card.  He owes me FAR MORE than he’s offered, but also I WILL NOT BE SATISFIED UNTIL I HAVE MY FAMILY BACK.  ALSO MY LIFE.
Meanwhile back at the ranch, Josh had been sitting alone during the time I was tortured and unable to do very much.  George became the best cannabis grower in the region, so we didn’t starve.  However, I spent day and night selling weed, and entertaining drug dealers.  So Josh was abandoned even LONGER at his desk, and when I became cognizant, I begged my father and mother to help me find an alternative environment for him. They did nothing but scream at me and kick me off their property.
 I filed for divorce, knowing that I had to take over.  (My big mouth notwithstanding, I had always tried very hard to be a submissive wife.  It’s hard to submit to a man who never expresses an opinion.)  I demanded that the grow-room be dismantled.  I cleaned out the basement and replaced screens and…sought my father’s advice. He refused to even advise me how to get LOCKS FOR THE DOORS!  (I’d never owned a key since we’d lived here.)  He refused to advise me, refused to lend me tools and sometimes even told me wrong things to do!  (All recorded.)  His failure to assist with projects I knew he approved should have tipped me off.  His refusal  to SPEAK TO ME for these intervening years certainly confirms what I’ve learned about him.
I have not sued my father for restitution because the Bible says not to sue a ‘Christian brother’ in human court.  I did as the Bible instructs.  I approached two elders to listen to my complaints, but they would not respond.  I approached the church, but they would not respond, and my father still will not speak.  The Bible says if those options bear no  fruit, I should consider my father an infidel. (At this point, that doesn’t tax my brain a bit.)   I am FULLY PREPARED to file suit, thanks to Edward Snowden and the two years of research I conducted, as hard-to-believe  TRUTHS  became available.  I’d still prefer to  see my family do the right thing.
Since Edward Snowden revealed the existence of government spying on American citizens, I’ve been able to document  REMOTE TORTURE of innocent citizens, and my story is VERY FAMILIAR.  I was targeted by gangstalkers, electronic weapons and cyberstalking.  In November 2014, I attended the CONFERENCE AGAINST COVERT HARASSMENT in Belgium, and I met LOTS of people from MANY COUNTRIES who also suffer.  I listened to scientists and lawyers and government officials and activists from all over Europe. Political dissidents are routinely targeted, losing family, jobs, health  and sometimes their lives.  Dr. Rauni-Leena Luukanen-Kilde has been murdered since I met her in Belgium, but many targets eventually take their own lives. Suicide is often the goal of the gangstalking-goons.
I have recorded every day of my life since February, 2009.  I began by trying to convince my atheist friend what was happening.  The goons run scripts into minds of targets, and mine featured him…doing things he did not do. Rather than go nuts,  I told him about what I was seeing and hearing; I wrote the ‘stories’ to him every day for two years.  When I sent the last journal I swore to it and had it notarized.  I’ve not seen the 30-40 theme-books since that day.  They are an affidavit admissible in court.  They MIRROR PERFECTLY my book.  Since then, I maintain  a website ** which contains background documents aboutEVERY SINGLE WEIRD EFFECT I EXPERIENCED, sometimes even the patents for the equipment used to effect the effect.  I haven’t missed a jot or a tittle  and I could help a lot of people who don’t ever know what hit them.
I am presented an utterly unique opportunity to help people and to serve God and to HAVE A LIFE.  My father will not release me into service.  He will not respond to my requests, pleas, bitching, nothing.  He is a very big stumbling block, not only to my personal spiritual advancement but also to the NECESSARY FREEDOM FOR VICTIMS OF ELECTRONIC TORTURE.  Do with that as you will.  I have records of every claim I make.  But, he will not stop me from accomplishing my destiny; how could he?  Still, his own eternity will be affected by how he deals with me and those other (millions?) who are also tortured.
May I please be part of the family again?  This time ’round somebody else washes the dishes and…NOBODY ‘DISHES’ ON ANYBODY ELSE: – –No more lying about others to cover our asses.-–   Goldthorpes are better than that.  I do not wish to see my father prosecuted.  That’s not my business.  I just want what was stolen from me.  And freedom from psychopathic parenting  that should have ended decades ago.  And God’s Kingdom established on Earth.
*Madness and Politics…but I repeat myself  (Available on Amazon)
7:12 15
4:09 pm
In 2009, displaying spectacular hubris, my father told the Michigan State Police that I was dangerous and abducted my children.  His actions directly resulted in the following harm:
1)  I am divorced
2)  I have no house and work for ten dollars a day,  in my former home
3)  My son does not believe in Jesus and his father’s faith has diminished
4)  My extended family does not speak to me or even respond to my gifts and other overtures
6)  I lost my bar license
7)  I am penniless
7)  The local church smeared me damaging my relations with the community and earning opportunities
8)  I have recorded every detail of my life and published some and swore to some and continue to this day.
Repeated requests for redress have been rebuffed.
Dad’s actions also set into motion a series of highly unusual events that are yet problematic, and without accurate definition.  But research has taught me A LOT about 1) him, 2), God, 3) myself and 4) my government’s activities.
Now I seek FAR MORE than the piddly apology he refused to provide in 2009 when I challenged his fraudulent religion with my faith in Jesus, because I’ve discovered MANY MORE VICTIMS of spontaneous life-implosion… and I recognize that he holds a key to many truth-quests worldwide.
Dad drove by about 5:30 and I prayed for him; I prayed that God will cover him with the Blood of Jesus and soften his heart.  (I think he goes by the house just to check on me; my road is an extra corner  from his place no matter where he’s headed.  <3)
One truthful moment and my father’s life is redirected and mine will restart.  I hope he grows up before the zombies get him.
back to the future
Isaac took away the computer I’ve been using and also won’t let me use the I-pad he GAVE TO ME several months ago.  Then I asked if I could post one more time to let people know where I was going to be.  (As if I knew!  I could possibly miss a couple days posting.)  Then I wrote on paper the following thoughts, and I red them to him and asked if I could please post the piece here. Then he gave me the computer back.  Josh is still being snotty.  He’s coughing and earlier I brought him honey and lemon and his response to me was churlish.
5:13 am
This is a test.  EVERYTHING is a test.  Isaac said his courage hasn’t been fully tested.  He’s done fear-arousing activities, but he knows there is a huge final coming up.
Everything happens for a reason and if I am made homeless it is to serve a purpose I do not understand.  Life is to me about being made into the likeness of Jesus and to become Truth and Love like Him.
 I have been learning to ‘rest in Jesus’ for a LONG time; I’m not particularly restful, and maybe that’s why I’ve not been permitted the comfort of a stable home without coercive abuse for so long?  Is learning to rest in Him achieved through having nothing else to rest in? If I can be happy today in spite of the fact that I am absolutely destitute and nobody loves me and people hurt me over and over for speaking my Truth, then I’ve learned, right?
4:47 am
My sons are going to want to kill my dad.  I saw that coming and so did he.  If he’s in jail he’ll be safe and they won’t ruin their lives by harming him.  They get harder every time they hurt me so I know it would seriously affect them.  When I first recognized the lizard in my dad’s eyes and realized he would not relent until I died so I HAD NO CHOICE but to engage, I said, “You save what can be saved” and he knew the battle was for my sons.  They don’t know that even yet.
I didn’t wager my sons but I bet ON THEM.  I gave them to Truth when they were tiny and I sang over their crib:  VICTORY IN JESUS!  The TRUTH will set them free.
4:22 am
I went to my dad’s house yesterday evening.  There were a dozen vehicles around but it didn’t seem that anybody was home.  I stood in the driveway and sang to Jesus:  ‘Lift Him up!  Lift Him up!  Lift the name of Jesus higher!’  Then I got on my knees and prayed for God to forgive my parents.  I also prayed that He would give them another chance to get right.
I meant to pick up broken sticks from in my parents’  driveway again, but I forgot because I was kind of worked up about the eviction notice.  Isaac said Friday that I could stay until the end of the summer.  They don’t keep their word and they take back gifts.  They negotiate with me and shake my hand because they know I DO keep my word.  I am also very disciplined.  I LIVE with OCD all around me, and hoarding,  but actually, when I consider it: I DON’T HAVE ANY CRAZY SYMPTOMS AT ALL.  I just know some things people wish not to know.  Tough shit.
4:18 am
*Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them.
And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent.
And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.  (Luke 16:29-31)
4:09 am
Josh has taken to posting signs on my door telling me the number of days I have before I must vacate the premises.  I moved in, in 1964 I think.
Homeless people must be given thirty days notice for eviction if you’ve allowed them to stay with you for 72 hours.  
SO, he’d have to redo that sign if I had not made him a deal.  I said that if he doesn’t have within three days evidence that my dad paid somebody to rape me, I’ll get gone.  (That would be easier with some money, but Jesus has a lot of that.)  It kind of surprised me that they seemed to think I expected to provide it myself, but I didn’t feel that I’ll have to.  Now that it’s the middle of the night and my guts are churning from the hatred tossed my way, I’m less certain.  Also, they’ve seen evidence about EVERY SINGLE OTHER PART OF MY STORY and still don’t believe me. Why would that piece be received any differently?*
I’m praying for divine love, like always.  Otherwise I’d just curl up in a ball like before when I was tortured and sick all the time and cooking and waiting on people who didn’t even know I was dying.  I’m not that person anymore.  The day I filed for divorce I began to stand up.  I’d be done by now if I were not having TO ALSO STAND FOR THREE MEN WHO LOVE LIES.
3:55 am
I sent an email to my dad.
No-contact was nice but he’s got some ‘splainin’ to do, Lucy.
Please pass this on to Dad:
Hey Dad.
You knew how it would play out when you took my house and gave it to my sons right before you tried AGAIN to lock me up.  You knew what happens when you give children authority over their parents.  It’s working.  Their parents are no longer the functional team they were, their dad tuned in full-time to the shopping channel and I am being sent away into the unknown…again.
My sons have uber-responsibility and lack the skill-set to pull it off.  You CASTRATED THEIR PARENTS and led my sons to believe they were right to pick the scabs off.
You taught my sons badness and you facilitated badness and you encouraged badness with snide grins and elbow pokes.
And you refused to acknowledge that badness is UNACCEPTABLY BAD.  (THAT’S JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVEN’T BEEN TAUGHT THAT LESSON YET.  You will.)
My sons believe badness is good, they believe you are good and they believe Jesus is bad.
(BUT, I have nowhere to live, thanks to your manipulations, so at least part of that is mistaken.)
It’s time to put on your big-boy pants and make this right.
(PS–AND I DO GET IT.  I know you set me up because you thought I was some kind of holier-than-thou prude.  I learned about sex from your horrible porn when I was a small child.  Haven’t I been preaching at you then, since before I could talk?)
(It never occurred to me, until Isaac knocked me out that time, that you could make even my sons hate me.  You’re very skilled.  You even made them hate TRUTH.  Fix it or you’re doomed.)
(I wonder if my reward will be larger if you do not ever repent and my sons go to hell with you?)
2:44 pm
I made good taco salad with tons of slices of pickled jalapenos.  Whole big slices.
I picked another four-leaf clover.
12:07 pm
Isaac’s mowing grass.
I picked another 4-leaf clover.
9:45 am
I didn’t get going yet.
I picked another 4-leaf clover.
This is a REALLY satisfying hobby.
9:33 am
Connie and I are going to look for a garage sale.
I picked one 4-leaf clover.
9:12 am
My sons will say they love me, but
they wish to change everything I
feel, think,  say,  do,  or want.
That doesn’t leave a whole lot of me left to love.
Good thing I’m large.
8:56 am
Jesus Christ is documentedly healing me from ‘self-love-deficit-disorder’ in a situation where every step toward self-love-remediation is countered by plotting and distrust.  Really very cool.  Nobody loving me back yet still my therapy proceeds.  I’ve asked for divine love for a long time; I wrote all about it.  I didn’t want to hurt anymore and it seemed that if I could love my abusers divinely then I wouldn’t hurt. I was BETRAYED and I didn’t want to sin so that God could deal with the betrayers which would be a WHOLE LOT MORE SATISFYING than any revenge I could contrive even if I knew how.  Selfish.  Also I wanted to FEEL divine love and also I wanted to GIFT divine love too.   If I had the benefit of divine love in my parents’ home I would have loved them WITHOUT EXPECTATIONS.  A child doesn’t know that, water over the bridge, etc.  BUT NOW WE KNOW.  I can love my sons without expecting them to love me.  I can even continue growing in love without their respect or approval.  That’s my Jesus.  “When I am weak, then I am strong.”  “Without Him, I can do nothing.”
8:35 am
“Dear Lord, THANK YOU that every time I nearly stand up you allow somebody to knock me back down!  Thank you for the opposition!  Thank you that I was incarcerated and poisoned!  Thank you that I was raised by a psychopath!  Thank you that I suffered lack and isolation!  It all goes to you for your glory!  Thank you, Jesus for what you’re doing with my story!  Amen.”
8:03 am
I’m watching TRUTH set me free.  Others are watching too but I’M LIKING IT.
I’m feeling good about loving me.  Like yesterday, I just turned and walked away from my aunt,  and I only beat myself up about it for maybe ten minutes.  Years past, an encounter with her could keep me shame-filled and miserable for a week at a time.  My aunt is the most miserable human being I ever met.  Way worse than people on the psych ward.  Her first sentence is always a complaint, and her second sentence is always a curse, every time.  1)  “I’m old, I’m sick, I’m dying.”  2)  “So are you.”  If that’s the way she feels I wish she’d get on with it.  I will receive none of her curses in the name of Jesus and a pox be OFF her house! She curses herself and she doesn’t even know it.  I’ve been there.  Pharmaceuticals don’t even help.  I’ve prayed for her for decades.  Her husband told me off when I was preaching to him when I was a little girl.  They’ve all been cursing me for my whole life.  That’s a VERY GREAT BLESSING.  Jesus knows all about it.
7:10 am
Family meeting yesterday on the way to the fish fry.  Another ambush.
I heard, “You rub your happiness in our faces.”  (From my bedroom?)
“Don’t you care that you’re making other people unhappy”?
(But they tell me only I AM RESPONSIBLE for my feelings.)
“Don’t you love us anymore”?  (Paraphrase)
I loved my roommates and I cooked dinner for them every night for years with vomit rising in my throat and synthetic telepathy insinuating my ears.
I was repeatedly thrown to the floor and raped by a spirit. Then I got back up and did the dishes.  I LOVED THEM TO THE MAX and served them to my near destruction.
They still blame me for not just forgetting my wounds and adopting their worldview.
So now, I will love me to health and then I will turn my attention to them as I AM SO INSTRUCTED BY JESUS WHO OWNS THEM ANYWAY.
6:56 am
Alex Jones is going to teach us how to ‘break free’ from our mind-control trance.
Is that funny enough?  Or should I continue?
with YOU!
(I didn’t know that was what I was doing when I followed him to funerals and church and kissed him on the cheek and gave him tons of clovers!  Good God.  It is SO WONDERFUL not seeing my parents!!!  And I never would have thought of it.)
“Eventually the narcissist will feel engulfed…they will feel suffocated.”