10 medical cannabis strains sure to uplift angry or sad people with PTSD or CPTSD

Unless they’re in denial, most people with PTSD will tell you that anger can be the most debilitating part of our condition.

For those of us with chronic PTSD, it’s an especially sobering truth. Anger that never completely goes away.

No, we can’t just get over it. That’s why chronic is placed in front of our PTSD diagnosis. That’s why we’re allowed to legally smoke pot in Illinois.

I know about anger better than anyone, unfortunately. But PTSD and even chronic PTSD anger is manageable. Here are 10 cannabis strains worth trying if you’re an explosively angry person with PTSD.

  1. Kavalier Cookies. I often say this strain will get you stoned to the point of being disabled. You won’t be able to think about much of anything, so if that’s not a feeling you care for, or can handle, I would suggest something a little less disabling. If you’re a seasoned pot smoker and angrier than hell, this will allow you to forget about whatever upset you, at least for a while. Kavalier Cookies has a significant CBD content on top of a high THC content. I have to say it induces fogginess; not for us if you want to be creative. This strain is for when you’re madder than a hornet.
  2. Pre-98 Bubba Kush. This is a classic CBD strain that is generally about 1:1 THC-CBD. This strain is perfect for daytime use and can effectively manage PTSD in many people 24/7.
  3. Anything “Kush.” I have found that all strains “kush” provide remarkable relief for my PTSD, especially banana, blueberry, lavender, tangerine, and huckleberry kush.
  4. Granddaddy Purple. This classic PTSD strain is my best friend. You can always expect euphoria and the giggles, followed by deep sleep. Much like lavender kush, granddaddy purple contains Linalool terpenes.

Read more: What are terpenes? Find out in this DavidHeitz.com report

Strains for when you’re less on the angry side, and more on the frightened side

Sometimes, but not often, I am more frightened than angry. This can actually be an even  worse symptom for me than anger, at least for the short term. I have found these strains help bring about a sense of security:

  1. Northern Lights. It’s trippy and it hits you quick. Suddenly you will remember the time you had your first cup of strawberry Kool Aid instead of obsessing on whatever you were frightened about.
  2. Silver lights. This strain is amazing. You can be scared stiff, unable to work, and after a few bowls of this be back in the swing of life. Problem is, I can’t find it very often.
  3. Mag Mile (Iranian Landrace). This easy-to-find strain epitomizes “stoney,” with its relaxing effects washing over you like a wave and allowing you to remember those dozen or so bars of “Smoke on the Water” that you know how to play on the guitar. Mag Mile has saved my life on many a night from a broken heart.

Read more: Learn about the first time I ever smoked Northern Lights

Strains for when you’re feeling sad and blue

  1. Cresco Cookies. This venerable strain is generically known as “Girl Scout Cookies” and has been trending quite a while as a national favorite recreationally. Why? It’s happy. It’s earthy. It’s social. It will get even the pissiest of PTSD sufferers talking at a party.
  2. Pineapple Express. Another strain that makes people giggle just hearing the name. Despite the goofy flick that might detract from this strain’s serious medicinal effects, Pineapple Express is an incredibly effective anti-depressive for many. Its delicious taste will leave you licking your lips. Read more: Check out my review of Pineapple Express.
  3. Thai Lights. Think of it as a cross between Silver Lights and Cresco Cookies. Fun.

PTSD may suck, and at times it may feel like nobody is your friend. Cannabis, however, never will let you down.

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My story: Jailed on no charges for reporting human trafficking in FILTHY Rock Island County Illinois

My story: Nearly loaded onto a C17 (and maybe I actually was) and human trafficked out of SCARY MLI Airport (same airport being sued for wrongful death by family of Prince)

My story: How I know about human trafficking and male prostitution in corrupt Quad-Cities

My story: Treated horribly by extremely hateful, unprofessional director of Family Resources, Inc.

My story:  Threatened by the FBI

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Cannabis relieves odd back-crunching condition thoracic outlet syndrome

When you’re thrown into jail on no charges at all, roughed up by Moline police and psychologically assaulted by jailers who put poison in your food, other traumas can get lost in the shuffle.

I mean, let’s not forget about the rape in 2007. Or the assault in 2014 in my basement that nearly left me for dead.

Or the years of fighting amongst my parents. Mom’s death at age 53 (I was 24).

The truth is, I have had dozens of automobile accidents. None, however, more severe than my 2002 crash with dad as my passenger.

I had just visited the allergist an hour or so before. I was taking dad home from running him on a quick errand, and everything seemed fine, last I remembered before the accident. I remember driving past Whitey’s.

Next, I’m in a ravine, and dad is screaming, “Talk to the kid, David!” A paramedic’s nose is stuck in my face. It’s Chris Kent, an old friend of my brother’s.

This photo bears striking resemblance to what the car (and the scene) actually looked like, although this is a Pixabay image. My car was a 1995 Honda Accord, but exactly the same color as the one pictured with this story.

Roomies with dad in UnityPoint Trinity 

Dad and I ended up being roommates for a week at UnityPoint Trinity. I was discharged after being given a battery of tests and a clean bill of health (no brain damage!) and dad spent a whopping two months in Rosewood.

But as I look back on that accident, I realize I likely have a condition called TOS, or Thoracic Outlet Syndrome. I say this not only because of the severe 2002 accident with my dad, but because I have had MANY bad automobile accidents through the years.

Thoracic outlet syndrome, simply put, is when a whole bunch of your nerves and arteries get smashed into too small a cavity between your armpit and your first rib. The symptoms include shoulder pain and numbness in the fingers, both of which I experienced rather severely today before I was able to get my medical cannabis (Bio Jesus strain).

The condition also can cause you to lose your grip on things, which is something else I experience. In times of severe stress and trauma (I have a co-occuring CPTSD condition) these TOS symptoms are greatly aggravated.

What causes TOS?

Trauma, such as car accidents, can cause TOS. However, repetitive injury (typing in an ergonomically incorrect work environment, for example) also can result in TOS.

There are different types of TOS. Some types involve more vascular arteries, while another, more common type affects neurological function.

The condition commonly is found in people with fibromyalgia and MS.

Poor posture, obesity, and pregnancy also can result in TOS. I am very mindful of my posture these days. It used to be terrible and now I know I am always standing tall. I also have lost a lot of extra weight in the past few years, at one time pushing 300 pounds.

Still, particularly times of great duress, I experience the pain of TOS. I find relief almost instantly when I inhale certain strains of cannabis. My back pops audibly simply by my taking a breath.

A quick review of message boards about health online will tell you this is a common symptom of TOS, too. However, when I’m able to crack my back like that, I find relief and move on. I’m not too worried about TOS at this point.

Sometimes, however, surgery may become necessary.

Here’s what Mayo Clinic has to say about TOS.

Until next time.

My story: Jailed on no charges for reporting human trafficking in FILTHY Rock Island County Illinois

My story: Nearly loaded onto a C17 (and maybe I actually was) and human trafficked out of SCARY MLI Airport (same airport being sued for wrongful death by family of Prince)

My story: How I know about human trafficking and male prostitution in corrupt Quad-Cities

My story: Treated horribly by extremely hateful, unprofessional director of Family Resources, Inc.

My story:  Threatened by the FBI

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Just how filthy is Facebook? At least as filthy as Rock Island, Illinois, apparently

Just how filthy, corrupt, and dangerous is Facebook?

Well, it’s at least as filthy, corrupt, and dangerous as the county and the city of Rock Island.

After I heard a deranged politician in need of immediate mental health treatment say, “Put him through the tunnel and onto a C17,” just after I was jailed on no charges at all for reporting human trafficking, the next words were “Contact his bank, contact Facebook….”

And of course Killary wants to be CEO of Facebook.

Long story short, I have been suspended from posting to Facebook. LOL. Unbelievable.

But I can post this as a share, so it should go up.

New FBI victim’s advocate lasts less than a week

Some of you may or may not know I had a new victim’s advocate from FBI (supposedly) for a short time. His name was Hunter Collins, and I went to high school with him. He gave me weed money, brought me food, and did ask some serious questions pertaining to my case.

He told me he used to search C17s for the Air Force, and that he also had access to the C17 flight manifests as MLI (Quad-City International airport, which is actually a tiny regional strip).

My story: Jailed on no charges for reporting human trafficking in FILTHY Rock Island County Illinois

My story: Nearly loaded onto a C17 (and maybe I actually was) and human trafficked out of SCARY MLI Airport (same airport being sued for wrongful death by family of Prince)

My story: How I know about human trafficking and male prostitution in corrupt Quad-Cities

My story: Treated horribly by extremely hateful, unprofessional director of Family Resources, Inc.

My story:  Threatened by the FBI

He said he KNEW I was telling the truth about what happened to me, as does anyone with a brain, because no community spends seven years trying to off a journalist in so many creative ways.

But my computer was hacked after Hunter asked me a question about it. Then, I caught him in lies, and ultimately, he tried to scare me. He did not tell me to sell my house; I got scared and decided to put it up for sale.

At any rate, I think he’s working for Gerry and Cheri Bustos and I told him to stay the hell away from me.

When the Realtor, “Ryden Team,” showed up and explained to me that he’s a lobbyist and knows Cheri and Gerry Bustos, and then said I would only get $65,000 for my $130,000 house (LOL) I got rid of him, too.

So I have no advocate now. But I know now where the REAL FBI house in my neighborhood is. You see, the FBI swept my neighborhood in night gear about two weeks ago and arrested 17. However, I was led to believe the FBI was in the house across the street, what with all its high tech equipment and such, glaring LED lights, etc.

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It was a ruse. The neighbors say the FBI in the house across the street was put in by a paranoid politician who is under investigation herself.

That means that when my house was shot at, and the shooter came back to retrieve the bullet, the cameras weren’t really rolling.

No wonder the shooter was so brave. No wonder the filthy cracked-out LGBT community, which helps operate the Human Trafficking ring in corrupt Quad-Cities, had the gall to unleash their filthy mouth on my Facebook page.

Loser trash.

I’ll be posting throughout the night. I’m done being nice. My next blog will be about the nasty, hateful, FILTHY woman who hung up on me just now at RIPD front desk when I tried to report a black Dodge Charger trying to run me down in St. Pius Parking Lot.

If you are a woman and I went to high school with you, stay the hell away from me. I am gay because I cannot stand being around hateful, narcissistic women. And I’m not afraid to say that anymore.

I AM sexually attracted to women. More so than men, to be honest. But I have been SO ABUSED BY EVIL HATEFUL WOMEN MY ENTIRE LIFE, I cannot EVER imagine having a relationship with one. Men are far easier to get along with, I find.

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‘Oh Jesus, it’s Sharon DeRycke and now she knows I’m a Bill Boom whore’

When FBI Director Dirty James Comey presented Braking Traffick with his “Director’s Award” for their work at ending Human Trafficking in the Quad-Cities, I was pretty excited at first.

After all, writing about human trafficking – to the point of being laughed at in my community – has been my passion for several years now.

It all started when my friend Sam Davis was pulled out of the Mississippi River, dead. Originally, the corrupt Rock Island Police Department called it an “accident.” Indeed, my former AA sponsor, Kai Swanson, told me “it was an accident” adding “those rocks are slippery” and “they found his bike” or something to that effect.

I don’t trust Kai Swanson any further than I can throw him. I fired him as my AA sponsor a short time later and decided to pursue science-based recovery methods instead of dangerous Alcoholics Anonymous.With the help of my therapist, I remained sober until I fell off the wagon – in Florida at a luxury hotel where the only place you could eat was a bar.

With the help of Valerie Olson at Southpark Psychology, I remained sober except for the six-month relapse following two and a half years of sobriety. I joked the Mojo strain of cannabis (only kidding, Nature’s Grace, it’s just SO good) made me want to have a beer, too.

With Valerie’s help, I have learned to practice mindfulness which for me is all it takes. I don’t desire drugs or alcohol except for my medical cannabis. And when it comes to that I don’t play.

So, as I was vacationing in Florida, I received a call. From a victim’s advocate at the FBI. Read all about that fiasco by clicking here.

It’s good she called. I suspect I was in a VERY dangerous place.

Read all about my Florida vacation by clicking here.

And here.

Sam Davis: Why I went to MEG in the first place

I decided to go to Metropolitan Enforcement Group (MEG) about what I knew regarding Sam Davis. Sam had been reaching out to me on Facebook with a big scandal to tell. I wasn’t sure what to think – at that point I had exited the bar scene and had no ill will against Sam Davis, and actually was worried a bit about Sam. He had some Facebook posts that to me showed he might be in imminent danger.

It was weird.

His posts were sort of like mine before I was arrested on no charges at all and tortured in the Rock Island County Jail shortly after going to authorities about Sam Davis.

The timeline is foggy, but it’s all written down somewhere.

I was struck by the death of Sam Davis. Sam and I always were thrown out of parties at Bill Boom and Dan Fox’s houses TOGETHER. It was not a big deal to either of us, I don’t think, as it became par for the course.

While Sam and I would publicly banter, and I would make fun of his laugh, when the chips were down I think we both felt like we were the only two gay men with brains in the whole town.

Sam more than once ordered me to write HIV stories for the Quad-City Times, long before he had the diagnosis. Of course, I wrote them. I was going to write them anyway.

Over time but not soon enough, I realized I should be grateful to Sam when he would scream on the Mary’s patio “You better make that a damned good story, it’s important!” It was his way of encouraging me. Loudmouth activism, just like me now!!! And my videos!!!

RIP, Sam Davis. And David Harker.And…

Who knows how many others. So many are missing.

Sam would graciously sponsor burgers now and then when I would drive us back to Sam’s after we’d be thrown out of the party. He even sometimes would cook me food at his apartment by Augustana. I loved Sam’s dog very, very much. We would walk his dog on the Augustana campus now and then.

I would hang out at Sam’s and sober up until driving home. We would watch YouTube videos, mostly. Which is so funny because I still do that, LOL, and don’t know of a whole lot of people who do.

My conversation with MEG

Before I even got the story completely out about Sam Davis, who in retrospect was messaging me in distress, then-MEG director Kevin Winslow boomed, “What do you know about Bill Boom?”

I said I thought Bill operated a sex ring. Never a word about drugs. I told them about another nasty, too. Or seven.

Then, it was meMoline police arrested on no charges at all, at my dad’s memory care facility, no less. I thought I was danger and began to scream for help. That’s why the filthy, corrupt, depraved, disgraced Moline Police Department say they arrested me.

They held me two days. They tortured me.

A plan was made to fly me the hell out of the Quad-Cities on a jet plane. Just “put him through the tunnel and onto a C17.”

I know plenty about Bill Boom and all the filthies. No wonder my house is all shot up.

But I did not call to say anything about Bill Boom. Rather, one of his “associates.” Naiive me had NOOOOOOOOOOOO idea how extensive this all is.

Hell no!

Miss Ditto’s Thang

Some things you just don’t want to talk about. Even if they are key to the justice you seek, at least in the eyes of some.

Yes, Bill Boom’s lover, James “Ditto” Dickersonhad an affinity for me and apparently it WAS a secret to some people. My “sexless ex-husband” Scott Smith knew.

He got real mad at a Christmas party once and stormed out.

I had been dressed up by Miss Ditto, the famed photo yet to be revealed. Indeed, a rock of powder cocaine was lodged in my made-up nostril, Miss Ditto’s favorite wig, bright red lipstick, rouge, the tiara.

The boa.

BoaS.

I still have the tiara, but in a cannabis dry spell ripped the boa up in a rage. Feathers remain here and there.

Feathers even are floating about the Quad-City Times newsroom.

Kay Luna knows.

‘Cocaine Jeff’ blah-blah-blah-blah

My association with that group was privileged. I got free everything and seldom put out. Or at least I thought.

I was kept by one guy, I can see that in retrospect. But how funny. As I made it clear to him from day one he had no influence over me whatsoever, and now I understand why Miss Smith giggled like crazy when I would refuse to pick his drunk a$$ up at Hawkeye Tap.

If the sheriff’s department knew what I heard in that jail as they held and tortured me on no charges at all…

Well they do know. And now we all will know.

I heard them say, “Call Cocaine Jeff, maybe he will take him.”

And then say, “No, Jeff said his mom hates him.”

Correct. Helen hated me. I was not obedient to her son.

Jeff speaks as though he has eight rows of teeth in his mouth, perhaps like a killer shark. His unmistakable voice is what I reached when I called 911 one night…and when I called Amber Ridge Memory Care one night.

He said he had to look “Benny Heitz up in the database, I don’t see him in the database.”

I told him to shove his database up his ass. The RIPD was standing right there.

My friend Heather Gray’s mom also had a mysterious weird deal go down when she called 911 that night.

911 call center of corrupt Illinois Quad-Cities is filth.

Me and Miss Ditto on the Kitchen Floor

So there I was, just me and Miss Ditto, in the million-dollar kitchen by Robert Herdich’s ex-husband. Beautiful and stunning. He does very good work.

Miss Ditto and I had been swigging the Fire Water and were coked up, I am sure, beyond imagination.

Miss Ditto always had, maybe just one more bump of cocaine. “MISSSSSY! Mama thinks she has one more bag…one more baaaaggggggg…..”

Which cookbook had Jimmy placed the coke in?

Next, we were on the floor naked, doing what gay guys do. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t into it at first, Jimmy was a nice-looking man and I was flattered, to tell you the truth.

But then,

“F*&k ME!” he demanded.

Just like that.

I did, and “You’re really a member of the family now,” was the response, and my heart sank into my big toe.

It felt like when I decided to be executive news editor of The Advocatethen wished I hadn’t done it.

But I don’t feel that way now about The Advocate.

Or Miss Ditto.

I did feel ordered to f*&$ him, and that’s what creeped me out.

But as Ditto said when at first I said no, “Oh Please, Miss Heitz! He’s up there with his young boys!”

Linda Watson could testify as to the conversations I had with her regarding time off for Miss Ditto’s funeral. Ditto was important to me.

Hell no, here comes Sharon Derycke

At any rate, a couple of weeks after Ditto and I did the deed, there we were, just the three of us, throwing the football around the front yard. Bill Boom, Ditto, and myself.

And up the steps comes SharonDeRycke.

She probably did not see me. I made it clear to Ditto I did not want her to, and we skedaddled to the kitche.

Yep, KWQC Everybody-Loves-Sharon (applause for Sharon?) Derycke, the anchor with no contanker, who knows, maybe I had been coked up a full 24 hours. Hard telling.

“I thought, ‘Oh Jesus, it’s Sharon DeRycke and now she knows I’m a Bill Boom whore.’”

It’s a shoe that never fit, and they all know it, especially in retrospect.

There’s much more I could talk about. The Christmas parties. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered.” OMG.

Wow.

Miss Ditto inspired, and continues to inspire, my numbers

You people have no idea. In fact, very, very few people know how Miss Ditto and I partied. Perhaps a climax moment was when Miss Ditto and I were in full glory, dancing to “Here I am Ba-by! Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours!”

The home had an extensive sound system for techno at the parties.

I was whirling, and twirling, and Miss Ditto and I were having SO much fun, I twirled and the conch shell bracelet Miss Ditto had adorned me with went straight into the ceiling fan.

Nina saw it. Nina came out that night. Nina is my sexless ex-husband when she’s angry.

Now, people have died, and that’s really all I want to say. I have spoken to the families of people who have died. Apparently at least one feels they got further with me than with any Illinois Quad-City municipal police departments or even the Illinois State Police.

And I want to stress, there has been zilch communication between me and the FBI since they threatened me last October.

But they’re the FBI, if they do things right

Who remembers the drag queen Chris Echew who died?

I thought about Chris Echew today. And I fear I am not spelling his name right. If someone can respectfully help me on that I will fix it. Also the drag name. I cannot believe I can’t remember it, but I can’t right off.

Chris Echew took me to a party at Bill Boom’s that I was not supposed to attend one year. He was hilarious about it, too, when he dropped me off, poking his head in the door and announcing he knows he’s not allowed inside.

But funny how he did it.

Chris Echew mysteriously collapsed before a drag performance at Liquid not that much time thereafter, the timeline is so foggy.

Chris Echew lived in Bettendorf and was a nosy old lady just like me. And smart.

And loud.

No. 9…Paging No. 9….Mouthy Fox, come in Mouthy Fox…

Photo on 5-26-18 at 3.21 PM

I much preferred being a Fox to a Boomtista.

But in truth, I slept with several ranking and one periphery member: Bruce, Dan, Dan, Scott, Ditto…

The first one I slept with fled the group like a Mo Fo long ago. We remained friends and just look back on that drunken stormy night with Duke and laugh. Bruce is a wonderful man who deserves love and support from everybody. Always.

The videos fill in many of the blanks. AIDS Project Quad-Cities is hella filthy, or at least it was.

But I want to stress one thing.

I never slept with Bill Boom.

I did NOThave sex with that alderman. Not a single time.

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When I looked at Dan Fox I had stars in my eyes

The thrill of the crowd was Dan Fox. Truly a fun guy. But he could display piggishness at times, and I would call him out on it.

It would break my heart if I ever found out Dan Fox was a bad guy. I hope he isn’t. Seems to me he gets taken advantage of as often as Charlie Brown, so sometimes I really just wonder. I miss Dan very much, but how can I ever go back to any of it?

So, where does that leave me?

A hottie for all the new guys who come to town who are decent, professional, caring, God-loving men. I bet there are one or two already here.

 

Family Resources director gaslights me when I go to organization about Bill Boom

Just how filthy is corrupt Quad-Cities?

It’s SO filthy that the ONLY organization in town charged with helping the vulnerable – people who are raped and trafficked, for example – is run by an angry, unprofessional woman who threatens those who seek help from her organization.

That agency is called Family Resources, Inc. The blatant gaslighting and outrageously unprofessional behavior displayed by Mary Macumber Schmidt when I went to Braking Traffik about my knowledge of disgraced Davenport Alderman Bill Boom and his associates is beyond reproach.

Indeed, that FILTHY organization apparently used what I told them to have the FBI THREATEN ME for knowing too much. But only after the FBI, under dirty Comey, FIRST pretended to listen to me and affirm me.

Mary Macumber Schmidt was so blatantly hateful she put the kibosh on an interview I had requested about human trafficking in the Quad-Cities. Mary, you already look so filthy with that sentence alone, I’m not sure I need to go any further.

But you also raised your voice, indeed you YELLED at me in an effort to shut me down. Don’t lie Mary, for all we know the call was tapped. Mary, you’re FILTHY as far as I am concerned. I am afraid of you and I am afraid for every child living on your campus.

You had the guts to treat me like this even after I offered to leave Braking Traffik my entire estate when I die. Go ahead and laugh. My house isn’t exactly a trailer.

Dirty Family Resources recently was in the news for some shocking filth. A counselor at Annie Wittenmyer complex – indeed, orphans are held on the campus of Family Resources (or at least used to be) – had sex with a minor and bought him pot.

First, filthy Braking Traffik would not return my calls for the longest time. The woman who ran the Braking Traffik division of Family Resources, whose name escapes me, is friends with Jeff and Ann Boyd (Jeff was the sheriff of Rock Island County before Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan essentially framed him…yeah, Jeff’s not an angel, but Gerry Bustos is trying to kill me as far as I can tell, so there you go; Ann works at the Quad-City Times).

I finally met with the woman from Braking Traffik at Lee’s on 14th. It became very clear she wanted me to talk at length about my sexual experiences as part of the Bill Boom/Dan Fox crowd.

I was extremely offended by this, because in law enforcement one goes after “the head of the snake.” It may be hard to believe, but Bill Boom is going to end up looking like very small potatoes in all of this when the truth comes out.

 

If, that is, appointed Sheriff Gerry (to an elected position) and U.S. Rep Cheri Bustos do not successfully have me murdered first. I have known they have thug men working for them, because I went to school with these thugs. The thugs control the LGBT tattoo-neck MS13 gang. One member, Chris Brandt, was my marijuana dealer before I got my marijuana card.

At any rate, yesterday I humiliated myself with the “My life as a Bill Boom whore” piece.

My association with Chris Brandt and Roel DeBruyn

How did I meet Chris? Someone I know from Mary’s on 2nd, Roel De Bruyn, introduced him to me. Chris and Roel showed up at my house, and I got the weed from Chris. It was GREAT WEED.

Of course it was. It’s the same weed I get now with my marijuana card. This was all about three years ago.

I have no doubt the weed came from NTI.

I really liked Chris Brandt. He’s cute as hell and has a fun personality.

I still like Chris Brandt think about him a lot.

But the night I met him, I forget what I said to him exactly, but basically he jumped into my lap and told me he was good at a lot of things.

I’m not the type to be attracted to someone who comes off a whore.

But I don’t think Chris IS a whore, the poor guy is a VICTIM.

I remained Chris’s friend, not so much because he had the great weed (but yeah), but because I think he is a VICTIM OF HUMAN TRAFFICKING. And whether he is gay or straight, I felt a connection to Chris, and still do, and I hope he is OK.

Chris asked how I knew Tim Ryerson, a cop who I suspect is a fully corrupt murderous thug. What a random question, it seemed. However, Tim and I were friends on Facebook at that time, and I had this weird idea in my head that maybe Ryerson was gay (NOT!) because he was being so friendly to me.

Such a fool I was. I think he’s the keeper of the human trafficking boys, to be honest with you, but I have no proof. They all live in apartments. I know where they are and have given the addresses to law enforcement.

Sadly, Rock Island Police are corrupt, so they probably never even went to that brick building next to the Hillside Inn near Milan Bridges to see if human trafficking victims are housed there.

How all of this has jacked me up sexually

Chris told me I inspired him to stay sober. And that was so interesting, because he was doing the same for me during the period I was getting weed from him.

But I felt he was NOT gay.

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I have heard Chris to be with both men and women. But now I think about my own sexuality, and how confused I am….no wonder I felt a connection to Chris.

I think I am gay, for sure. Bisexual is more like it. BUT, for me being gay, or bi, isn’t just sexual. It’s about being abused by nasty, hateful women and no longer being able to imagine any sort of intimacy with a woman. I am saying, sexually I am attracted to women, and I never used to be, BUT I never would have sex with one because I want a relationship, and do not get along with women.

It never would work.

So, thank God I am attracted to men, too.

Does Chris Brandt have a connection to the filthy Fordhams?

I had a page for my dad called Benny Heitz. I had to get rid of the page because my dishonest, corrupt, hateful cousin Allison Fordham O’Malley kept insulting me on it.

You see, Allison is one of several dangerous Fordham girls born to Alan Fordham, my uncle. Alan was my mom’s brother. He’s a racist and also hates gay people. He now lives on a plantation in Florida.

My cousin Allison (we call her Oopie) said he’s got $10 million. Now, he was a union steward for paint or drywall, I believe. Alan having $10 million is as nuts as corrupt Gerry and Cheri Bustos being in the top 1 percent.

But wait…oh boy…a connection! Cheri is the one who said, “Put him through the tunnel and onto a C17” while I was held on no charges and tortured in the Rock Island County Jail three years ago. I had just gone to Doug Williams of RIPD and Steve Rusk of Rock Island County Sheriff’s Department about drugs and human trafficking.

Turns out, Jim Bohnsack, the disgraced airport commissioner who finally resigned, is pals with uncle Alan. At least, that’s what my Aunt LeElla Crosby told me. She had a heart attack a few days later and is now in FILTHY UnityPoint Trinity hospital with pneumonia. I doubt I ever will see her again, even though the house is right up the street. I am not safe to walk anywhere; the FBI would admit this is true. Nobody will help me with rides, food or my legal medical cannabis.

I am only unemployed because whack job Democrats from corrupt Quad-Cities have blackballed me in the healthcare space. It won’t last forever.

Mary Macumber Schmidt, I implore you to resign at once.