I'm under attack. Please help.

As soon as the news broke that I am suing me for writing stories about me and the LadyBoard, I have been under attack. I think I am being followed, the "fake news" is hounding me and calling me for interviews, and I now heard that I have certain rights to make a parody website and that crushing the larynx of these evil doers who are me, who oppose my ironfisted and courageous rule of the District may not be a walk in the park. And then I learned that I might get hit with something called a cross complaint, because the idea of a politician suing a parody website is pretty well worn-law and could be like some thing called a Rule 11 issue. I guess that is why that Santorum website is still floating around with that catchy definition. I mean it is funny when done to Santorum, which we can all agree on, but to me, not so much.

Okay, here is what happened yesterday and why I need your help. I was getting ready to go out and meet the LadyBoard for one of our super secret meetings, you know, like the ones that look coincidental so that we are not violating open meeting laws and I was running a bit late. Sandy calls being five minutes late to everything "JST", which means Jewish Standard Time. Do the Jews have their own time zone? Are they always late for everything, I don't know what that means. I know this, there is a difference between an American minute and and a Mexican minute, because every-time Pam orders a meeting she says something like, "this will just take ten American Minutes, not Mexican Minutes" and I think a Mexican minute is longer because that country is to the south of us and the equator plays a role in all of this, I think. Okay, so I was headed to the DMP (designated meeting place - the nearby Starbucks) and using an SDR (surveillance detection route) which is what you do when you think you might be followed so that you can determine whether or not you are "black", which means free of a tail, when Sandy Kravets called to tell me she had locked herself in her home again which meant that I had to go over there and tell here how to get out. But when I was doing the SDR, I made so many right turns to see if I was being followed, that I ended up right in front of my house. So now I was really late getting to the DMP. At any rate, I get over to Sandy's place and help her get out of her house, and for the tenth time I tell her to the left means the deadbolt is going to open, when I notice that there is something, like a wire or something that is sticking out from under my car. Now when Denise was in charge of all this, out homes, offices, cars, and phones, were swept for surveillance each week by Louis Hartwell (the guy we had to fire, our old COO), but it seemed to me that he was maybe not going to find anything because he had one of those metal detectors like the one I have for walking on the beach to find buried treasure and I could tell that the batteries in Louis' detector were dead because the needle did not move at all. Okay, so I am getting back to the point. Sandy tells me that she had been studying up by watching that Lifetime TV Channel and that she had seen one show where a woman tracked her ex by putting this GPS thing on his car and then she knew when he was you know, stepping out on her. Sandy confirmed this was a real thing with Pam because she is expert on all this, and this is what really spoiled my day. Sandy demanded that we get under the car and determine what that wire thing was and to see if we were being followed. And I don't want to make this seem ridiculous, but I did see two helicopters that flew overhead and I am telling you, these activists and evil-doers will stop at nothing.

So, I don't know if you have ever climbed under a car, but I had a pretty nice blouse on and the idea that the pavement under the car would tear my blouse was a bit unsettling, so Sandy had said that there was a way I could get under the car, check for a GPS tracker, without tearing my blouse. I have no idea why I went along with this. About two blocks from Sandy's house there was a water main break and the repair guys, who look so dreamy in their hard hats, had sort of put up this barrier around the hole where they were digging. It is like one of those plastic looking fences that stand about three feet tall, they're orange and you can't see what is actually going on with the digging and the fixing, but you know enough to drive around the fence, and not just ram it like a parking lot cone. Okay so Sandy says leave it to me, and she disappears for like ten minutes and she comes back running like she was being chased by a bear (which actually happened to her once) and she has all these poles in her arms and lots of the plastic orange material. And in like two, maybe three minutes tops, she has that fencing all set up and it is shielding the car. Well then Sandy points to one left over piece of the plastic material that we did not need because my car is smaller than the area of the street they were digging up, and she says here's what you do, "take off you blouse, lie down on your back on the orange plastic material, and then I will pull the long end that I rolled under the car and pull you under from the other side and you won't ruin your blouse." Well at first I naturally objected to this because I am not really one to be excited about being outside in just pants and a bra, but the idea of being tracked by GPS, which could lead everyone following us to the DMP, was more dangerous. So.... I did it. The problem is that Sandy pulled that sheet so hard that I almost slid right under and out from under the car, so she had to go pull me back from the other side, the side where my feet were, and get me just right so I could see what it was. I can not tell you the relief I felt when I saw that it was just what was left of my dog's leash that I lost about a month ago and I could not ever find it. How it got caught under my car I don't know, but I lost the leash at about the same time our dog ran away from home. That is another story, and I am almost positive these haters and defamers stole my dog.

All hell is breaking lose today. We are trying to pawn that nutty Chomokos off on Apache Junction (I had no idea anyone lived out there), there is a white-out at Chaparral High School, a rebellion that Pam is itching to put down, and all kinds of nonsense about the CFO we want to hire. So this is all for today, but I will tell you what happened after Sandy and me (me or I) got me out from under the car, got dressed, and made our way to the DMP. But it might be tomorrow, and we are pretty sure we were not tailed.