Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Camp Ashraf Akbar Azizi Automobile Exhaust

Hello, this is a blog post. This blog was only useful once, during a period of time that I was on the ball somewhat and able to function. The reality is it may have gotten some people moved from Camp Ashraf in both Iraq and Iran (of the mind - there was a camp ashraf) to Camp Liberty, an American run concentration camp. The people who founded Camp Ashraf were peaceniks who wanted to show the leadership of Iraq and Iran that WAR is not the way to go in life.

So Akbar Azizi may or may not have been helped by this blog. He realized his dream, which was dying at the enemy without killing anybody. He had to die, because the troops of the Iraq and Iran governments seemingly didn't have a choice but to bomb and kill them. So that happened, but so long ago that it's faded into my own past. Akbar didn't stand a chance. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton got them out of there by delisting Camp Ashraf at last.

She may or may not have received my envelopes. There were two of them. Each one was professionally crafted by me in order to get the professional attention both of them deserved for trying hard to land in the lap of Hillary Clinton. Someone else may simply, such as Akbar say, found some phone equipment such as an available cell phone somewhere or someone may have patched him in and he managed to talk to Hillary somehow.

So Hillary managed to get several such places delisted as it was, because we Women are the original peaceniks. We want you guys to keep it down to a dull roar or something. We want you to change your minds, make a choice, make a decision, somehow between you. We need you to stop being Jack the Ripper (in other words, Jack the Rippers) so much. We love you. We want to make your babies and raise them the right way and stuff. That's just how it is. If we each got what we wanted, though, the world would be significantly overpopulated pretty quick.

Those are the breaks. So I figure maybe me or someone else got hold of Hillary, maybe I only kept Akbar busy and distracted. I'm in and out of whatever network didn't work anyway, and got Ashraf founded so long ago, who knows who actually founded it? Maybe, Akbar Azizi, the A student guy who figured out the thing to do was kind of ripoff women and children the right way for a change, and just found a commune and sit there and see what happens.

Communes then also lead to concentration camps.

Anyway, what can you do. When it is time to pack up and leave, it is time to pack up and leave. You know, oh Internet bots who are reading this to see if this site is good for advertising purposes, that there is only so long you can stave something off. Only so long that you can be a concentration camp yourself and get over it. Yes, I'm probably dying from worms that I never needed to have, from two men, one who killed me and the other one is my husband.

I understand worms put you into Hell, and there you are in Hell. Well, I'd better not mention that word over and over again, because you can even say Fuck, Shit, Damn, Bastard, Pee, Manure, Dead Rotting Koreans on the Internet over and over again. And get away with it. So many people are on pollution, cigarettes, liquor, weird pills in the name of medical science, etc. So many people have to get dead, not really their own way, someone else's who is that someone else?

The Reaper, of course. Or your grandma. But yes, everyone has to get dead individually as well as we Women not having sixteen kids. Or no kids. Did you ever try living alone and having no kids? The Ripper finally showed up on my life. My husband, who wasn't my husband yet, said he wanted to Stalk me in his pickup truck. He owned an old dilapidated white dirty old pickup truck at the time and joked around with me and wanted to Stalk me. I thought maybe he was planning on running me over with the truck, but come to think of it he thought he might get caught doing that. So, I told him, later, and later happened through miracle. Angela was born years ago.

Now she is 20 and living across the street from us. She is nowhere near a concentration camp. Instead, she is somewhere in the vicinity, lurking around Bothell way, Both Hell ways because of the extreme environmental pollution she has to somehow survive, and maybe she has to take hidden little eggs and tiny worms and parasites everywhere she goes now. She's beautiful. So beautiful that her Mommy even still loves her that way.

She's in a picture across from us that's getting hard to see through my tears. There's another picture, not the one where she was three years old and clapping her hands. The one through my filthy, car-ridden tears, from all the automobile exhaust from Hitler and Dr. King's highway right across the parking lot and out of here into the world. Yes, that's my girl. She's over at her friends house, drinking lemonade a piece away from the Giant International Freeway system of extreme car exhaust you can only smell when it is right there with you.

When I want to take a break, I will go out for a walk with my husband.