February 10th 2020

Dear Journal,

I am seriously not looking forward to physical therapy this week. Or occupational therapy. And that’s unusual. Over the last three and a half years, I have come to really look forward to my appointments. They gave me hope. They gave me a way to feel better. But now, I want to quit. And that’s just not like me.

But I’ve got a job, I’ve realized. No- ten jobs, at least. And it’s The End, so those jobs have tripled in size.

No one is home. They are all far away. And when things got really bad last summer, when Lila and I were both in the ER, Putin flew in from Russia with Carol (my mother’s dupe), and stayed in the town next to me, where the others used to live.

And let me tell you. When it’s time to call Putin, you know crap has hit the fan.


Putin and I go way, way back. He was one of the first people I ever recruited for the Order. I couldn’t believe I was talking to him. And boy, he was one tough s-o-b.

Don’t let his sweet disposition in the press fool you. There is a reason the press isn’t hard on him. There’s a reason the room laughs when a reporter has the balls to really question him. Putin just waves a finger, makes a joke, raises and eyebrow, and voila – the room erupts in laughter.

“How can this man ever be evil!? The USA is victim of Russian interference??? Bua-ha-ha-ha!”

And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, maybe you should actually watch what’s happening in the Old World. I don’t share a lot of those videos, because – well – how do you explain to your readers why you’re so interested in Russian politics? Indian politics? Chinese?

The answer is: it’s my job. And of the world’s 7.6 billion people, the USA is just 0.3 of it.

Anyhow. Putin. The tough s-o-b.

I’m going to skip through our history and just land onto my most recent interaction. It’s a unique one.

It’s the first time Putin called me for help. I guess it had to happen someday. Even if he has a problem that needs fixing, he generally waits for me to call and offer help. That’s the thing with prophets. We know before you do. (It’s a blessing and a curse.)

But it was February 2021. I hadn’t talked to him since I called and told him to back off, three days after the election. (I had to place a call to Xi too. I think that’s when I met the real man. But I won. That’s also the nature of a prophet. We’re on the winning side.)

Perhaps it’s better to say He won. But it doesn’t feel like it, in the moment. It takes everything you have to face the leader of the largest communist party on earth. But I’m kind of over. I’m ready for The End to come already.

Evil has had it’s freedoms for long enough. It’s been 7,000 years. Now it’s time for them, and those who chose to love them, to burn.

In this world, no human is on top. You always serve one of two masters: the Betrayer or the King.

And when it comes to Putin and Xi, they’ve made their choices. (But I doubt they’ll ever tell you about it. Nooooo way.)


About a week ago, I got a call. It was Putin.

I guess you could say, I was expecting it. A few days after the inauguration of Joe Biden, Russia broke out in protests. For the first time in my lifetime, mobs were swarming the streets of Russia, with youngsters screaming for the end of Putin.

I thought, “That’s strange. I thought these protests were reserved for America, paid for by Putin. Hm…” So I rang the Big Guy up. It was during my husband’s work hours, so it was a pretty short conversation:

“Hey- babe?”


“Can you ask if this Russia stuff is us? Or…”
“He says, ‘Yes’!”

“Are we supposed to do anything?” Meaning we, The Order.



And so I left it. I didn’t know what was going on at the White House, and if the Lord didn’t want me to investigate, then no problem. I had enough on my plate. But I did kind of smile. Putin’s last election garnered him 75% of the Russian “vote.” He must’ve been a bit surprised by all the rabble-rousers.

I bet he thought his dear old Russia would never, ever revolt against him.

I think I could easily say the same for the good ol’ USA. I don’t think anyone in the USA believed that a gaggle of 20 year-olds could bomb and burn down the small businesses of nearly every major city in the USA – without any push-back from our massive, overstocked law enforcement agencies.

But we’re at The End. Satan, according to Ezekiel 28, and other texts, fell because of his love of “buying and selling.” He adored his gold armor, covered it with gems of every color and stone, and became ruthless in his hunt to be Number 1.

Oh- I am not saying capitalism is bad. But capitalism without the Father is death.

So I won’t say America didn’t deserve her fall in November 2020. But I will say that Russia was well overdue. (Read the Book of Baruch and find out who the Russian Orthodox Church is emulating. It sure ain’t Yahweh. He outlawed 99% of their system before Jesus was even born.)

Anyway. Reading about Russia’s riots was weeks ago. I didn’t even think of it again until last Friday…


July 8th 2021, 1:15pm

I never got to finish my entry here in February. But that’s the way it goes with journals. I never published my unfinished journal entries, but who ever finishes their journal entries!? I should didn’t. I mean, when I was a teenager, I had the time to, and it really helped. But not as an adult. Shoot.

Anyway, the long and the short of it all was this: Hillary started the protests in Russia because she learned that he had been the one to crush her presidency bid. When she found out, she gave him a taste of her own medicine. And her medicine tastes a lot like Putin’s medicine, honestly.

I mean, just last week I had to put a curse on Putin’s shoulder canon that he got from Claire in a deal for nuclear material. We needed it to run the tube, he needed to get rid of it from Chernobyl (that hangar is full – no, WAS full- of nuclear warheads. Not anymore. I moved them for him in another deal) and so we made a deal. I got nuclear material and he got a big cannon in his shoulder that automatically shot anyone trying to come at Putin.

That put a huge cramp in Kyle’s ability to prank Putin on his birthday, but hey. A deal’s a deal. It turns out that he has – like – 15 attempts on his life a day? I think only 7 a day now. It’s been a few years with the cannon.

But I had to curse it the other day because he wasn’t listening to the Lord. The Lord put him in charge of The Order in Russia. That was HIS idea, not mine. As in, the Holy Father’s idea. If I see another pastor, preacher or duck hunter telling us that Jesus gives a damn what words come out of your mouth, I’m gonna scream.

We’re over here following him and dealing with giant demons of every type and size so that those pastors can live, @#$%#@. They can suck my pearly white nails. Or – whatever. You know what I mean. They should kiss the Lord’s feet, all the suffering we’ve gone through to keep the world going before the 7000th year.

I mean – really. Words. Can you tell me a single place in the Old Testament that the Father woke anyone up in a dream because of the WORDS they spoke!? Because they were RUDE!? Are you kidding!?

But Putin? He’s been over there building replicas of Claire’s equipment, making deals with Germany when I told him not to, and warring against people who are not the mob. I’d had it. I asked the Father what in his holy name he wanted me to do. He said, “curse his cannon.”



“I can do that!?”

“Mm hm.”

You don’t have to tell me twice. (Well, apparently he did, but you know what I mean.) I cursed Putin’s cannon. Now it only works when he obeys the Lord. Boom.

Shoot. To you that means, “follow Paul’s rules.” No. Wrong. It means, “talk to God before you go and make a decision. Don’t say yes to anyone until the Lord first tells you yes.” And that’s a much harder way to live. Sometimes he tell you yes to things you don’t wanna do.

Which is why people follow Paul instead, who taught the opposite of Jesus. Great pharisee.

Alrighty!!! I’m never gonna get all these journal entries out!!! Back to the basics!

Basically, Putin was angry at the USA for the riots in his streets. But it turned out to be Hillary. And I guess there’s a lot of history there. But they are big boys and big girls. They are a lot a like.

After arguing back and forth, trying to get the whole story, I was starting to get tangled up in all their drama of the last 30 years. And then suddenly-

“Do whatever you want,” said Putin to me, in his thick Russian accent. “You decide. You in charge of evryting.” Uh oh. Putin never says I’m in charge of everything! Then I had an idea.

I put them both on and island and let them duke it out.

It’s one of my more brilliant moves. A good leader knows when the people below them are only just below them by a hair. I don’t like bossing around extremely smart people who have bent a knee to the Almighty.

So. They yelled at each other for the first 24 hours.

Then they finally ate something.

A week later, it was all settled and they came home. Now THAT’S diplomacy. 😉