Sunday, March 20, 2022

There's one of the celebrities who I occasionally do a search engine thang for just becuz it's a bit fun (is it healthy?). I use this as a thermometer of sorts for my situation. But my brain, being under such ominously distorted states due to external forces, picked up this memory out of my brain-memory bank and it just came to me--a song out of the 70's I would hear from WLS out of Chicago when I lived in Champaign (got reception all those miles away on my little radio in my bedroom). I had given up at that point on classical violin and wanted to be part of the "fun" music that "everyone" was getting hip to. I now recall a movie and book (I read the book, didn't get through the movie) called Looking for Mr. Goodbar.

 "Helen Reddy--Delta Dawn Music Video". YazerPro. February 12, 2009.




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But DELTA DAWN (now realizing this title also has significant symbolism but won't go into that detail right now): the song that just popped into my brain and memory is not linked to my opinion of the male actor, the association came with all the videos on YouTube that are crazy fan stuff---obsessive/compulsive drooling for a celebrity, for example--and other ideas I won't write about in the personal domain.

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...and my 2nd association from floating but associated ties to the fan-base idolatry of celebrity brings to mind the great character of Miss Havisham from Charles Dickens' Great Expectations--again, the book brings more detail but the film versions bring the character a bit to light. Ah, what a fantastic beast Miss Havisham has created in the general but perhaps forgotten literary and film landscape. This also has personal associations with the ideas floating through my mind of this weird situation foisted upon me with being teleported to "them"--as I watch the fan stuff on YouTube, the gossip and the posturing charitable photo-op stuff of the celebrities who couldn't give a damn about the issues unless it involves some kind of profit or fame for them and their most cherished careers. But Miss Havisham and Delta Dawn are both adoring the YouTube videos (featuring every day with a fan base of millions this most famous male/one who women kneel in devotion to, some women I mean. Also men, of course).


"Great Expectations 'Miss Havisham' Mertida Hunt, 1946". Cool Guy. May 28, 2017.



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...and this song comes to mind---not because of the NAME in the title but because of the song--(I had forgotten the title of the song and the name of the woman for whom Ms. Reddy is singing) but the weird crescent moon hanging over a dying swamp is the term I might use for the technologically obsessed---I heard this song out of Chicago, over 200 miles south in Champaign and I tried to understand it with a 12-year old mind but could not grasp the sordid waste of life that Ms. Reddy was singing about---the video, though, is quite the subliminal because in the first scene of a city scene is a most clear and defined phallic symbol building--almost clearly obscene--I think media is more adept at hiding such clues at this point. But it wasn't really meant or intended to be so hidden anyway---it has a direct bearing on this theme and of the not so veiled obsession with "big city" pipe dreams and men and love and media addiction devoid of reality---(or is addiction the ultimate reality?)


"Helen Reddy--Angie Baby Cartoon". LukeDuke908. February 19, 2012.



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But as a little aside: here's to Ms. Helen Reddy and her contribution to the real feminist marches, meetings and fights that women have had to undergo all these years of protest--I AM WOMAN

hear me roar, baby! Maybe? A lady? Shady? 

"I Am Woman--Helen Reddy". Sophie Othilla Ngo. January 18, 2013.


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"Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977) clip". Films 411. September 20, 2016.






This brings back a very different memory of me and my grandmother marching in a protest to keep abortion legal. This march was in the streets of Phoenix, Arizona around the mid-late 80's. My grandmother and I had our arms around one another while marching amongst the protesters in the middle of a long train of women marching for abortion rights to continue. Strangely this was one of the few circumstances where me and my g-ma actually embraced for more than a few seconds (she was a bit distant and very controlling--maybe a bit like a Miss Havisham but in connubial bliss with my endearing grandfather who devoted his life and everything to her, and it was mutual but I know she cheated on him and he still loved her for it. They loved one another for more than 50 years like the best of friends and devoted to their deaths). She was loving but not a doting type (my mother called her a kind of "super bitch" personality). She kind of taught me the "hard way" not to get involved with the creeple that the Nazi organization flew into my path with my brain inundated with "gravy" mind control ooze mostly all my life. She kept admonishing me to pick better men but in a whiney way which kept me on my toes--endlessly looking for Mr. Goodbar and now I've given up on looking for the elusive ultimate deadly abuser fantasy (must see but mostly must read the book Looking for Mr. Goodbar to understand my drift, can you DIG IT?).

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"5 Easy Pieces--Stand By Your Man--Tammy Wynette". HD Film Tributes. June 22, 2021.




This song, and this movie 5 Easy Pieces come to mind in this miasma of memories associated with looking up celebrity fascination on the tube circuit pumped directly into your brain and heart---themes of feminism. Oddly, the woman who played the "feminist/independent" character who Mr. Nicholson lent one of his homes to, promising her that he would never kick her out, once she reached that untenable age he did, indeed kick her out. I don't know what happened to her since I assume she got over very well--maybe I'll look it up.... But the film 5 Easy Pieces is, in part, a depiction of the fantasy good girl wifey woman who dotes on her husband and every tear waiting to drop at the slightest hat falling the cliche perfect woman-as opposed to the 70's version of the New Independent Woman who could stand on her own (maybe to buy and purchase her own house? However now that I understand the good ole Mr. Goodbar Network I know that women being blocked from obtaining financial freedom is a thing and for real, dude. At least for me becuz I'm supposedly "dangerous" and very bad and the list of hate terms for me is endless according to the people using subliminals to drain my brain of all positive reinforcement about who an what I am--thus carried-on by the teleporting terrorist mind screw operators out of H-wood, the celebrities who seem to gain money from their exploits playing the freedom loving women but support male domination oppression to an extreme degree of violence when it comes to me, as they also participate in the violence, ostensibly to prove to the male-dominated media industry controlled, I assume, by men largely and the women who support misogynist woman-hating culture.

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"Tammy Wynette--Divorce (lyrics)".  Lee Westwick. September 6, 2012.





At least d-i-v-o-r-c-e is still legal....women who want independence still have a chance to not be as enslaved but mentally they remain cloistered and supporting cheerleaders for male abusive relationships---





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Ongoing physical mutilation terrorist report: the slashing under my fingernails and cuticles so that elevated bloodied swelling continues, the fingernails and fingers swollen, cuticles completely severed-off my toes and fingers, in addition to poisons put on my toenails to harden the nails into coarse, hard plastic texture never-growing deformed twisted and blackened. The mechanical arms are constantly going underneath all the layers of protection I wear every night also into my scalp to make hair fall out--falling out in clumps once more so the little bit left on my scalp is mostly gone.//While ugly shitalina the filth torture prostituted Nazi bigot of Whorewood with the German ape scumbag rapist her ally in utter genocidal violence, promoted by Trump and the Nazi 4th Reich and Gotti dynasty mafia with Stallone, et al (gmbh ltd English monarchy ltd) and once the slash under my skin they inject poisons, or foreign substances or materials so the "mind control "terror regime can continue for HOURS upon my waking from hate skits forced into my sleep state while being teleported, while they are slashing into my body and my consciousness is teleported outside of my "prime" body.//Every day dirty ugly shitalina has her rape dirty foul "men" and herself laugh about my breasts while I am getting undressed--the poisons she laughed about having her dirty nazi scum and brown and black and jewish minions pour into my body every day for the past 15 years, with my family, neighbors, and the 4th reich death squads having done this for decades priorr to this filth creep (but her dirty Nazi daddy was involved in this contract out on me back as early as 1974 or 1975, probably 1974 when my step-father the highly skilled poet writer professor was involved with the author of Deliverance in a poets seminar in Atlanta and returned extremely embittered, and he had to change his priorities of writing he then partnered with one of the English terrorists back in 1987, in London when I went there for a summer post graduation of college--and this man is intimately connected to the English royalty as a painter and his wife is the daughter of the director of Deliverance--partnering with dirty shitalina and pit ape pitt for over 15 years but ordering my family's targeting, my poisoning (which did begin before they got their filthy leeching apparatus sucking apparatus onto my life for their endless promotions) I was sent to live across the street from this English bigot back in 1987 in the organized hate structure, and my step-father was also involved in this orchestrated plot for his own promotion. But beyond all the greed and sleaze of this group including my own family, I must state that this ugly dirty whore has looked at least 20 years youjnger while I look 30 years older from the parasitic leeching off my energy, having dirty men rape and beat me as she watches on smiling and laughing along with dirty foul shit ape pig pitt and ther est of the apes and scum of Whorewood and Congress. The joke is that my breasts are not plastic surgery like ugly shitalina's and the jokes are endless after abuse death trheats this German ape endlessly punching my head and face, getting the crap of the Steven Tyler group connected to Stallone's Italian--all with English Italian French and German fascist Nazis rushing to join into collaboration of their take-over of Whorewood with dirty u gly stupid shitalina and pig ape pitt put endlessly into the Oscars every year, as they have been taking turns since their clutching onto my life for this contract back around 2014, taking the tech from Depp and putting Musk into power along with T-rump. The rest is " history" but you all keep silencing this situation so it's more death squad censorship.

  I put compression socks on my hands on top of layers of materials so my hands feel squeezed into crumpled shapes upon waking/. The ape shi...