Augustana College, St. John Lutheran Church, and why they scare me

Image of Moscow Square in winter courtesy Pixabay. 

Never have I seen so many dishonest narcissists have the same two Rock Island institutions in common.

The institutions? St. John Lutheran Church and Augustana College.

The narcissists? Let’s start with Rock Island County Board member Kai Swanson, my former Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor.

I do not trust him one bit, and I never will. Why should I, as my therapist used to rhetorically ask?

What kind of AA sponsor leaves you to rot in a jail he partially controls, held on no charges for reporting sex crimes? Especially when he knew you had been sober an entire year?

Kai, was it revenge for saying, “No thanks, Kai” and then staying sober on my own?

But it goes beyond that. With Mr. Swanson’s superior intelligence, he was able to manipulate facts and then spit them back at me in ways that were dishonest, gaslighting, and downright hateful.

He did this all the time regarding my brother, who at the time was in an active methamphetamine addiction and regularly hiring Bill Boom prostitutes. My brother has harbored countless criminals through the years. Former Quad-City Timespolice reporter Ann McGlynn, now PR diva for St. Paul Lutheran Church, Davenport, knows all about this. I used to give her letters from prisoners at my brother’s request (Ann and I worked at the Quad-City Times together….there’s that filthy newspaper again…but Ann and I worked great together…Ann, maybe when they lock up/fire some QCT filthies we can be a team again, that would be tits).

Together, Ann and I earned this first-place award right before my departure. Ann was the editor on this story here:

Panhandlers pepper interstate off-ramps

Kai should have known better. I am just as intelligent as he is.

But with street smarts.

The streets of Maxine Waters and Adam Schiff taught me well. You can read all about that right here.

Scary St. John Lutheran Church

I always thought St. John would be a great church, because I always thought Pastor Stacie Fidlar was a great person.

Now I’m not so sure.

Stacie, from the git go, knew something significant and horrible happened to me. She ran to the memory care institution immediately when she saw my FB post:

“Help! He’s going to kill my dad and I both!”

The entire Quad-Cities saw it (I had more than 2,000 PERSONAL Facebook friends at the time…now I have ZERO…my journalism FB page is a business/political/journalist/public figure page).

I totally anticipated the mass exodus of the page. If it gets down to ZERO it’s worth it entirely as long as the kingpins of the depraved sex abuse and methamphetamine ring are LOCKED UP.

Pastor Fidlar told me she asked one thing of the memory care institution, which had installed a Per Mar guard (Antifa DNC Showbiz Machine): “Did David leave here on his own?”

The answer, “NO,” alarmed her.

And the next thing you know that filthy church, run by elders of the filthy college, sent her on a “sabbatical” where she was not allowed to accept calls, but could make them.

Stacie Fidlar, by no means, did not start out an evil, corrupt person who withholds information about human rights violations committed by powerful politicians. Cheri and Gerry Bustos never used to be corrupt either, believe. I had cocktails with Cheri all the time when I wasn’t even old enough to drink.

Oh, Cheri, let’s delight in those Pat McGuire’s days. Or the drunken parties at staffer goodbye galas! Indeed, the Quad-City Times had me a hardcore drunk before I even was 21 years old.


Stacie has been my only friend, too

Stacie listened to me for a long time regarding my jail terror and made me feel better. But then it changed. She started saying, “Cheri Bustos doesn’t have time for you, and she’s running for Senate, and she’s going to have you committed.”

I used to see my therapist screaming in terror over this.

The gaslighting and harassment by Pastor Fidlar only got worse as the months went by. I have not spoken to her in well over a year.

As a graduate of Augustana College in 1992, I served as editor of The Observerstudent newspaper my junior year in 1991. Stacie and I worked together my sophomore year (Stacie served as entertainment editor, I was ‘Special Report Editor.’)

We never got along.

I was happy, she morose.

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But we came to be friends when I returned to corrupt Quad-Cities from Los Angeles. I enjoyed her company very much. I took her to Johnny’s Italian Steakhouse on my birthday a couple of years ago.

Stacie plunged into extraordinary anxiety and then “went missing” herself shortly after my capture and torture by the corrupt Rock Island County Democrats. I had just told Rock Island Police Department Officer of the Year Doug Williams and Rock Island County Sheriff’s Deputy Steve Rusk about Bill Boom’s suspected human trafficking ring.

Next thing you knew, I was in jail. No charges. Poisoned. Tortured.

Disabled. Chronic PTSD.

You either know the story or can poke around my website. The search engine is very helpful.

Pastor Stacie Fidlar also has been the only person there for me.

There is too much more to this to be publicly discussed.

I know she is in a horrible situation. I hope she is freed from it soon so she can be the great person she is.

My friend Sam Davis…click here to learn more about Sam

My friend Sam Davis, who in retrospect we now all know, it was bizarre for the entire LGBT community, but I flipped out when Sam died.

Because I knew it could have been me or that I was next. And that’s how this all started.

One guy I still have a HUGE crush on (I’m SO bi OK) asked me to go to Sam’s visitation with him. It flipped me out.

Maybe I should have gone with him.

Just an odd thing I thought of just now. I do think that guy must be good, but he’s got somebody now so I hear.

At any rate, Sam and I came to be good friends hanging out at his place by Augustana. Mostly we had silly drama-free fun (YouTube videos) and acted nothing like the outspoken big mouths both of us are.

So that was odd. But also fun, because Sam and I used to dig at each other

At any rate, Sam told me he enjoyed playing around with Augustana guys. The only reason I even bring it up is because I think that college is evil, something very, very evil is going on down there. Ask David Harker’s widow, who I spoke with at length. She told me she learned more from me than from the Illinois State Police in four years. What dots were connected? Dots that cross Augustana College.


The scary Rock Island Police

The scary Rock Island Police is a chapter in and of itself. TO BE CONTINUED ….



If US Rep Bustos is spying on me, why? My life is boring. I do this back at ‘spy house’

UPDATE: The cameras were removed on Sunday 7/15 after my post. The cameras had been up since at least December. It is unclear whether the Tennessee spies remain, although I saw them packing their car up yesterday.  

Let me tell you about the scary house across the street. I have to look at it every time I look out my windows.

It never used to be scary.

But that all changed about two years ago.

It all started when the elderly woman who used to live there by herself had her daughter (or is the son?) and son-in-law (or is it daughter-in-law?… Neighbors have heard both versions) arrive. They proceeded to tell a handful of us in the neighborhood that their mother was being harassed (people banging on her windows and such) and for us all to be on the lookout.

A short time later, another man claiming to be the son of the elderly woman went door to door with his daughter, handing out his sister’s phone number in the event they see anyone harassing his mother. But the other son (daughter? Daughter-in-law?) who arrived said THAT MAN actually is the bad son harassing his mother (mother-in-law?)


The long and the short of it is that the elderly woman’s relatives from Tennessee moved in with her well over a year ago. Mr. Tennessee began to visit me regularly, spending hours at a time visiting me with my living room. A time or two, he asked to smoke my weed. I told him no, I could lose my card over that.

I liked the guy from Tennessee, as it is no secret I am a down home Republican, or at least have become one. I am about the furthest thing from a gay Yankee that you could possibly get, in fact, after my shocking abuse at the hands of the mentally ill, criminal Rock Island County Democratic party.

I told him all about the corrupt, FILTHY Rock Island County Sheriff’s Department and all about Gerry and Cheri Bustos. He ate it up.

When I would ask him a few months later why RI County Sheriff’s Deputies would respond to their distress calls instead of RIPD, he would say, “Oh I know those guys.”

That became to be his mantra for everything. For example, he said, “Oh yeah, I know that guy” when I told him about the woman up the street, Barbie, who was out walking my elderly neighbor one day. Barbie suggested I write a parody about drugs and lawmakers.I came up with this piece that I think is really funny. Click here, but read it later. Don’t let it distract you from the seriousness of the situation (maybe that’s what ‘Barbie’ was trying to do, who knows).

Over the course of the summer, I, too, was harassed now and then. When I would wake up to commotion, I often would run to the window, look outside, and see a White Ford Explorer fleeing the house across the street. A time or two, I saw bald man chase after cars.

Weird stuff. Was bald man a cop?

The Hunter Collins and “Team Ryden” factor 

Apparently so. And according to my self-proclaimed SECOND FBI victim’s advocate Hunter Collins, who I went to high school with, I would be “safe” if I let the house across the street see the “Team Ryden” SUV when it polled up. His SUV is marked “QCREALTOR.”

Collins is retired Air Force. He said he used to get the flight manifests at Quad-City International Airport and he also searched the C17s. He said he knew I was telling the truth. You can read about my shocking nightmare in the Rock Island County Jail by clicking here. 

By the way, Collins was my SECOND FBI victim’s advocate, the first being a woman named Amie Lohman.

When QCREALTOR arrived, he began to take pictures of the inside of my house, including a framed front page my boss Bill Lobdell gave me. The page from Glendale News-Press was headlined “What Kind of Human,” and the paper, under my leadership, won an award. The paper dedicated that edition to coverage of when a man in Glendale burned his family up while they slept. His entire family.

When I mentioned Cheri Bustos name (I’m sneaky that way) he said, “OH I love Cheri Bustos!!” He later told me he said he simply knew her as a lobbyist in Washington.


Tennessee’s wife very unfriendly, never liked me

Tennessee bald man’s wife never much cared for me. She’d make a nasty, “You’re conceited” face whenever I would express pride in my own. She was an extraordinarily unfriendly woman who seldom spoke; nothing like her friendly husband.

Once, Mr. Tennessee told me it would be “defeatist” for me to leave.

They left for the winter, and the man who is over there now moved in. That happened a couple of weeks after I was threatened by the FBI and my house was shot up the first time. However, he left a while back and Tennessee Baldy moved in again until about a month ago.

It’s like the investigation gets called off and re-started, and different people move in and out of that house. Every time I begin to cooperate with authorities AGAIN, I feel like I am telling the story from scratch all over again.

Because I am.

It’s mind f*&$, it is.

You can read all about the FBI threatening me by clicking here.

You can read about my house being shot up by clicking here.

‘Tennessee Baldy’ is out, ‘Stunt Double’

For me, the bottom line is this.

The house across the street clearly is NOT the FBI house. The FBI house looks like any old house. I know which house is the “FBI House” because my neighbor told me. She is not crazy. She saw the sweep last month when, in night gear, the FBI came through the neighborhood and arrested 17. I did wake up that night and saw what looked like a government people loading people up from the Dipple house.

The Dipple house has been the site of almost constant police activity since I moved here. That used to be Dolores Fox’s house, where the neighborhood children attended Vacation Bible School for Bethany Baptist Church.

But back to the Spy House. The equipment on it is from Walmart, and sometimes they even post what to me look like IEDs on the stop sign (correct! Public ROW) A neighbor saw this violation recently and was aghast.

Silly me, I told her, it’s the FBI house, they can do what they want.
She’s smart and did not respond. I feel silly that I let that house fool me as long as I did when my neighbors knew the truth.

As I wrap this up, I took a final lap around the block and now none of the cameras are NOT fixed on my house but fixed on the house next door to me. Where they should be pointed.

Tomorrow’s blog.

When I asked Tennessee baldy if their cameras got the shooter of my house last May, he just shrugged his shoulders.

That was the night I jumped online when I was woken by the house alarm. Twenty minutes later, one Timothy Michael Madigan was taken into the Scott County Jail.

It wasn’t for shooting my house, and I’m not saying he shot my house.

And I’m not saying he didn’t. Bill Boom used to talk about the Illinois speaker having a gay son.

This is scary stuff, folks. The man over there now looks like Tennessee Baldy but is not. He’s a stunt double, I guess.


If it weren’t so scary, it would be slapstick. Just look at this editorial cartoon in which I delight, so much so I paid Quad-City Times $20 for a print and framed it.


Here’s what that’s all about. Yes, Cheri likes to spy on constituents and voted to give herself those powers a while back. Check it out for yourself right here.

Not even the neighbors on each side of the “spy house” believe a word of anything that comes out of the mouths of anyone in it.

I know this to be true.

Indeed, the home is now known as the Bustos and Bustos “Spy House” harassing the sober caregiver who was jailed for going to police about human trafficking.

There is NOWHERE for the SICK people who hurt me to run, even if the FBI and DOJ do give them a free pass.


Until next time.

Coming tomorrow: All about the house next door, from which twice my home was shot point blank

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Am I the American #FreeTommy? No, because I’m not in jail. God bless America

There is one big difference between UK journalist Tommy Robinson and me.

He’s in jail, and I’m not.

I pray for Tommy every single day, and I praise God this July 4 that I live in the USA.

Tommy has been jailed for reporting sex crimes. The British media is largely covering it all up and spinning stories sympathetic to Tommy’s radical liberal detractors, but you can check out the coverage in the Independent of the UK here.

More than three years after it happened, I remain angry as hell for being jailed for reporting human trafficking in the 17thCongressional District of Illinois, where my once-dear friend U.S. Rep. Cheri Bustos is married to the appointed sheriff.

And now, my house is even shot up. Click here and see for yourself.

And it’s for sale. I’ve done what I swore I never would do: I have given in to harassment by thugs, corrupt politicians, community sex nymphs who hire enslaved prostitutes, tweakers, gangbangers, and more.

Organized crime has chased me out of my filthy hometown, which for years has been a mafia hotbed. They even made a movie about it based on a true story called Road to Perdition. You can watch the trailer here.

But…I already have had two FBI victim’s advocates (even if one was fake…two people have claimed to be my FBI victim’s advocate, anyway) and I also have received almost $1,700 in insurance money thus far for my shot-up house.

How did I get hooked up with the FBI? You can read all about that by clicking here.

Both of these accomplishments would previously have been considered “impossible” in my town previously. I am not the first victim of terror against LGBT people who know too much. Indeed, many are now dead or missing.

Read more about Sam Davis, pulled dead from the river

Read more about David Harker, pulled dead from the river

There are many more, but these two cases I am most familiar with. I have spoken with family members of the deceased several times, and I have left them scurrying back to police demanding more information.

Chronically angry after witnessing corruption beyond belief

I am chronically angry over the torture I endured in the filthy Rock Island County Jail, which is run by a sheriff who was not even elected. But then, he’s married to U.S. Rep Cheri Bustos, who, in all my years of reporting, have I ever known a politician to be so wholly corrupt as I believe she is.

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And indeed, in Rock Island, Illinois, when you write about such matters you are putting yourself in grave danger. Check out my report about what happened while I was tortured in that jail, stripped naked, held on no charges at all.

I know Cheri because I was her undisputed pet at the Quad-City Times for many years. I know way too much about a whole lot of people in my filthy, corrupt town. I am writing a book about it. You can read an excerpt from my book by clicking here.

And we were friends for years. We got cross-wise when I moved back here and she offered me the corporate writer job at the filthy local hospital system. I turned her down.

You can read all about that here.

So who was working in the jail while I was held and abused there, ON NO CHARGES, mentally tortured and given poisonous food?  Indeed, it was hateful LGBT people with drug problems who had been fired from the gay bar who were working as jailers.

And I had just gone to two filthy cops, Rock Island County Sheriff’s Deputy Steve Rusk and Rock Island Police Officer Doug Williams, about Bill Boom, human trafficking, drugs, the LGBT community and Mary’s on 2ndStreet. Mary’s would be the local gay bar.

Mary’s since has been plowed into by teens in a stolen car, I suspect possible MS13 gang members, and nearly destroyed. See it for yourself right here.

Fast forward: Bill Boom is now a convicted felon, having admitted he gave money to his houseboy to buy meth, who then dealt it to the LGBT community, which has harassed me daily for many years.You can learn all about the meth operation that was happening at the Boom-Wenthe house by clicking here.

Sick-in-the-head Democrats assault me in my house

We now know that my house, my childhood home, previously was owned by Democrat loyalist and high-ranking official Milan Police Chief and Moline Firefighter Todd Fitzpatrick

I was “arrested” in Moline at FILTHY Amber Ridge Memory Care, and I don’t mean filthy by appearance, but by the way the previous executive director ran it. Praise God she has left the institution.

And my brother? Despite years of well documented drug addiction, he works at chief of security at Sears Northpark, Davenport (previously he worked at Sears Southpark, Moline).

He knows all the cops and nothing ever will happen to you. Once, after I was assaulted, my cousin called him up at his house. He started giggling that his grill had set his house on fire, that the Moline fire department had shown up, and that he was cooking them all a hamburger.

When my cousin Cindy relayed this to me, I relayed it to officer Pat Richter of RIPD. I thought his head was going to explode in anger.


Today, Frank Fitzpatrick is serving a four-year prison sentence for dealing and manufacturing drugs. You can read all about that here, and please click on the link to the court record so you can check it out for yourself.

You see, the Quad-City Timesis nothing more than a mouthpiece for U.S. Rep Cheri Bustos and the filthy corruption going on by Democrats all across the QCA, but especially Rock Island County, Illinois.

Many are going to prison in the days ahead. Those in the know already have canceled their subscriptions and recognize the Quad-City Times for the filthy, corrupt disgrace that it is.

Indeed, it was a Quad-City Timesreporter who said to me, direct quote, “Dave, you’re going to be having a GOOD OLD TIME. Be patient.”

We no longer speak.

Happy Fourth of July, especially to all the patriots out there, and the men and women defending our Constitutional rights.

I appreciate you.

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Who shot up this journalist’s house after he wrote about human trafficking?

Boy, I sure wish I knew the answer to that question.

Nothing ignites my PTSD like someone asking, “Who shot your house up?”

Or, “Why would anyone want to shoot your house up?”

As a sober person who essentially lives the life of a monk, with not even a cat to talk to (she’s dead, too, now, just like a Country Western song) there is no SIMPLE answer to those questions.

Or maybe there is.

About four years ago, I went to police after my friend Sam Davis’s dead body was pulled from the Mississippi River. I told them I thought Sam had been eliminated for possibly knowing too much about something. I told them Sam had urgently been reaching out to me wanting to tell me something, but that I had avoided him because I was newly sober. I told them I had sent his Facebook messages to Chrissy Minor as screen shots.

A few days before talking to Kevin Winslow of Illinois State Police on the telephone, I had taken Rock Island County Sheriff’s Deputy Steve Rusk and Rock Island Police Officer of the Year Doug Williams to Mulkey’s for lunch on my dime. I was nosing around for a Healthline story about people who make their own dabs and blow their houses up in the process.

Consequently, I was attacked by the marijuana community for that, which is ironic given my marijuana advocate self. Want more irony? A house down the street blew up last year when someone was trying to make dabs.

It’s true. Ask an RI cop or firefighter.

I basically told the cops about an active human trafficking ring that day at Mulkey’s, and later to Kevin Winslow on the phone.

And I was in jail on no charges at all a week later.

The Frank Fitzpatrick Factor

What have we learned since?

Well, my neighbors told me my house was illegally searched while I was illegally held in the jail. Then, finally, we found out the son of the man my dad bought the house from was a drug kingpin.

He is now in prison.

His daddy was the Milan fire chief.

The Quad-City Times, where I worked many, many years and for which I won several awards, has completely ignored all of this.

Here’s what I remember about the nights the house was shot at. The house alarm went off both times.

I think all of this has to do with my reporting on human trafficking, even if others will say it’s about gangs and drugs. That too, no doubt, but I think the real story revolves around human trafficking.

I first wrote about human trafficking way back in March 2016. You can check out that LinkedIn column here. The tipster? An LGBT person who works in law enforcement.

I have since written about my own experience, which is scary as hell and haunts me some nights to the point of screaming, sweating, headaches, falling out of bed, etc.

Bullet hole No. 1

The first time my house was shot at was two weeks after the FBI threatened me in October. I was too scared to call the Rock Island Police Department at that time, so I didn’t. But in a weird twist of luck, I sent this to Verizon. Verizon had randomly assigned me an advocate because I was having strange problems with my service.

In an email Nov 9 to Verizon customer advocate Bill Craft, I reported:

Bill, something just woke me about an hour ago. It sounded like something hit my house.

Moments ago my neighborhood was swarmed by RIPD with their headlights off and flashlights.
Bill, I have no telephone service whatsoever. None. No voice. None.
I am freaking out a bit but I know you will look into this and make it right. Under the circumstances, Bill…ouch! Seriously this is exactly the type of thing that happened with AT&T.
I can only guess it has to do with my number change?? The system says neither the old number nor the (new) number exist.
Bullet hole No. 2
Photo on 5-18-18 at 6.47 AM #2

The second time my house was shot at was in May. Twenty minutes after my home was struck, a young man named with the biggest political name in Illinois was hauled in on the Iowa side of the river.

Not for shooting my house. I can’t remember what he was hauled in for. And I’m not saying he had anything to do with my house.

But I did hear somebody say once that this person is gay. They said it a long time ago.

And I am sideways with a bunch of criminal gay people in the Quad-Cities, many of whom I now have learned either belong to a gang or are a big daddy to a gang, or so it seems to me.

Then, later, someone came to rip the siding off my house, apparently in an effort to retrieve the bullet. Twenty minutes later? A common street criminal name (also associated with the gay criminal community) hauled in on the other side of the river.

Photo on 5-18-18 at 6.47 AM
Coincidence? Maybe.

What happened to the video being shot by ‘FBI house?’

So who shot my house up?

I don’t know. The so-called FBI house across the street should have had it on camera, but it turned out that was not the real FBI house, but the now so-called Rock Island County Sheriff’s Department spy house.

You would have to ask my most recently former FBI victim’s advocate (or was he as faux as the house across the street?) to explain all that.

I’m not lying! The house across the street is affixed with all sorts of lighting and surveillance cameras.

And I am not going to discuss the FBI any further because that’s just stupid.

What do the police reports say about the bullet holes?

I have not seen the police reports on the bullets in my house, if they even exist. What a debacle getting a report filed was. I never will call RIPD again because they are not here to protect me anyhow, they clearly are here to protect those who are trying to hurt me.

That really is how it looks to me.

One young woman at RIPD (city police) who acted about 13 said, “Bye-bye” and hung the phone up on me when I told her I nearly was mowed down by a black Charger in the St. Pius parking lot.

Sheriff Gerry Bustos (county cop, appointed to elected position, married to US Rep Cheri Bustos) even sent his boys (deputies) up here for a “welfare check.” I do not live in Gerry’s jurisdiction for such checks and they know I am afraid that I could be murdered by a Rock Island County Sheriff’s Deputy.

And I truly believe that.

And they know that, because the RIPD made a video of me stating as such last winter.

And they chose to perform this “welfare check” the day after another high-ranking Quad-City cop who I had been sharing information with had retired.

Dirty. Filthy. Nasty. Hateful. Mean. Fear-inducing.

And they know I have CPTSD.

I told them to leave.

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My kush life: What is it about kush marijuana that keeps me on the level?

Even for those who consider themselves lifelong stoners, when you get a medical marijuana card, suddenly you learn you didn’t know a thing about cannabis.

The selection can be overwhelming. And there can be a great deal of trial and error before you figure out what works for you. Our government allows only very limited research on medical marijuana, after all, and is a long, long way from actually allowing research that examines the benefits of various strains.

But for me, I learned right away that all things “kush” are the medicine I need. Lavender kush, Huckleberry kush, tangerine kush, banana kush.

If it’s kush it brings relief. Always.

But what is kush?

Peaceful plant grows native on Afghan-Pakistani border

“Kush” actually is stoner vernacular that refers to a variety of indica plants that grow wild along the Afghan-Pakistani border. Leafly, the Bible of cannabis, explains that Kush generally can be broken down into five varieties: Bubba, Purple, OG, Skywalker and Master.

I have not tried the last two, but will very soon. I know the dispensary has several Skywalker strains.

Kush indica plants are short, squatty, and, apparently, easier than most to grow, several sites explain.

In a nutshell, kush strains refer to those heavy indicas that motivate stoners to save the world. These strains induce profundity, introspection, appetite, and finally, sleep.

Kicking back and enjoying life on the kush

The kush nug is a mighty little nug, These nugs tend to be tiny, but dense, heavy, and powerful. Never underestimate the power of the punch that lies behind a kush nug.

Kush isn’t just a type of cannabis, I think it’s fair to say it’s a type of cannabis consumer. You can find a lot of “Kush” apparel directed at people who pride themselves in being heavy cannabis users. That’s not to say “kush-tistas” are typical tie-dye stoners. They are, however, a group who openly admits they enjoy life better stoned — sex, music, food…everything.

I wonder if those of us who enjoy kush and the kush life — the so-called beach bums, those who put experiences ahead of “things”– I wonder if many of us have just been through so much, we have decided that life is better stoned.

And that’s not sad at all. Thank God for that sassy little marijuana plant.

Until next time,

Yours in cannabis.

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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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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 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.

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.


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.


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.

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.