My Case Indicates The “Hillary Clinton Proxy” Will Likely Continue

The use of proxies in my case shows how next to impossible they are to address, and reactionary hate, violence and political hyperpolarization are likely to worsen, tragically and wrongly.

I voted for Hillary Clinton against Trump in 2016, and would do it again. I believe she wrongly became a proxy to America for villainous affluent white women who attack and destroy for gain, but are shielded from all accountability, like my mother has been. Seeing the way my mother continues to remain shielded in my case to this day, I believe this problem is set to worsen, not improve.

Power in America is brokered (and money is “legally” laundered) amongst the privileged and affluent by proxy. Proxy corporations. Proxy labor arrangements. Proxy political issues. Proxy rewards due to proxy machinations. In my case, there was malingering by proxy: a straightforward predatory business dispute, turned into a healthcare issue in order for the power to be brokered and laundered, shockingly and fraudulently.

I asked my mother how a distant younger cousin of mine was doing in 2018. She said, “Terrible. His ‘bipolar’ is out of control: he supports Trump and smokes lots of weed.” I said, “Ma, why doesn’t my ‘bipolar’ make me support Trump and smoke lots of weed? Is there anything you don’t consider a symptom of ‘bipolar disorder,’ or is it just all things you don’t like? How about taxes, are they ‘bipolar’?”

She shot me her coldest look, the empty glare of a fascist fraud, and everything continued to fall into place in my head. She thought she had rendered me ‘bipolar’, which her and her kind believed had made my words meaningless, and was costing her money to keep going. ‘Bipolar’ was a proxy to her for “you have been permanently discredited and destroyed.”

She thought all behavior she wanted to unofficially criminalize or portray as wrongful could be slandered as medical by her furious, collusive, incredibly inaccurate and inventive reports to others, and then controlled somehow. Even if it wasn’t concerning to authority, law be damned: her motto is literally “Once I thought I was wrong but I was mistaken,” a mantra only a true criminally deranged atheist that thinks they are God— and so God could not possibly exist— could repeat so many times. Believing in God is a symptom of mental illness to her, like many think-they’re-God scammers. She’s vocally anti-Christ, like Christ is the church!

I found a large centipede in our basement as a teen, which I later found out are common regionally, and my mother and her sister decided it was a rare hallucinatory insect after tossing my room, which she did constantly, and told “everyone.” Completely disturbed people. This is the stuff my mother likes to do, run around saving the world from centipedes in bags that kids who end up going to college for illustration were drawing. Just a dangerous, powerful, abusive, persecutory, total nut who is sometimes taken seriously for entirely unspecified reasons. The fact that she was the President of New York Women in Film and Television should tell you all you need to know about that non-profit: my mother’s stories about it are awful and she’s the one who says that. A pure infighting organization, and that’s the script she’s run within my family, and then brought outside of it to hired professionals and authority.

My mother runs her mouth on people behind their backs and smiles in their faces, which I have heard all of since I was tiny. She is a defamation-for-power operator like Trump of the lowest stature, yet somehow, she continued to operate “undetected” until she went way, way, too far with me into the federal jurisdiction. Is this because there are so many abusive sleazeballs just like her around, who will cosign this deplorability? I don’t know. My young life memories of her are just a constant stream of defamation and slander from her about other people, which was the case for my father too, and I am now convinced this was the root of their young love. They both went after their parents incredibly aggressively, and my father ripped his own father off in business as well, which is a very long and funny story. These are the “time heals all crimes” type of people, my parents. The intractable social problems that are created by this kind of obstinate behavior are discussed in Wolves Claim Sheep Attack.

My mother’s big reason that I should be diagnosed bipolar that she told the ER doc after I waltzed into UCLA Medical Center in December 2010 (which I found out she had phoned in, that’s how corrupt family medicine is) was that “I had bought lots of watches the past few years,” which even the doc laughed at when I rolled my eyes. I decided to stay and check-in because another doctor was even more frank with me about what I was facing, even though I was free to go, directly against the direction of my attorney, and I was a chump. (Other physicians in the family had piled on with the phone calls, and continued with their ruse, even under the watchful eye of the federal government, nearly into the present. We’ve seen what conflicts fueled by power-brokering physicians can be like through the course of the pandemic.)

My parents had flown to LA from NY claiming I was a danger to them to go to my house and confront me. This was bought as plausible by the space cadet set: they think private citizens who are in danger fly to the homes of people they claim are a danger to them. For certain people, they can stalk and attack and claim they are the ones in danger. It is unfathomable. Their flight was actually due to internet speech incriminating of their business and interpersonal behavior towards me, yet this was glossed over in one of the most absurd feats of motivated gibberish reasoning I had experienced up until then, which was then stuck to for years and years and years and years.

My decision to try to “work it out with my family” was a terrible one, and that was caught on to clinically relatively quickly thereafter, to absolutely no avail. They had swindled me not only into the business, but into a construction that evolved into absolute attempted control and a proceduralized method for them to cause motivated harm. I’ve dismantled the system while facing retaliation over the past few years, so the protracted health harm is now long gone, but I remain legally disabled, with a corrupted employment history, due to the scheme. And predatory family “bipolar” and PD scammers believe they have obtained a permanent slander for discrediting purposes, as I experienced brutally for years. So one thing you can do is lean in, put on a little show where no one gets hurt (except you by retaliation), and let the lies stack up til house of cards go caput.

The hospital this all began at in 2010 was Resnick Neuropsychiatric, the place scumbag power brokers kept threatening Ye with in 2022 with a return to for the DSM-absent mental illness of “yelling about Jews like a Nazi loser on Instagram,” and my experience there was counterproductive: See The Bible of Identity Warfare. There’s no other way to put it. It was a pantomime of healthcare, a total waste of three days. They medicated me up, and let my family and some other strange drug-addict industry goons who wanted my family’s (not very substantial at that time) money in after that, despite my paperwork saying NO VISITORS, ESPECIALLY FAMILY. Me wanting to be shielded from the people who were provably acting against me socioeconomically in business was apparently a symptom of mental illness that needed excessive medication to override my paperwork.

Despite having gone to the hospital of my own accord under pressure and harassment, all funding from our business to me was then immediately and suddenly cut after ten years of adult labor, and despite my partial equity holder status. My family had obtained a mental health diagnosis for me under the guise of concern, and then immediately rendered me homeless after I was compliant and drained of my own funds by them. This is the nature of their, and others’, recurrent healthcare methodology. I was able to secure more funding relatively quickly, which I was then attacked about. I understood quickly that my inability to live and support myself under this regime was supposed to be complete.

It was a cruel joke, and I came out of this first period of attack in adulthood understanding that I would be screwed in some way for a very long time, because my mother was predatory and would always be believed on the social scale, and I would not be believed. No one aware, which were plenty, could really help; mothers like this have incredible systemic power even into adulthood, and everyone knows that’s a big part of violence pandemics but REFUSES to discuss it. She can just pick up the phone, and it’s small town South Dakota (where she grew up) horror even for a Brooklyn person like me, if that’s the mother straw you draw. It fit in with the rest of my Brooklyn 80s and 90s childhood exactly not at all and felt like torture.

I’ve demonstrated that a wholly non-violent and compliant approach to this kind of scheming is actually not effective either: it allows a predatorily fraudulent mother to do even more damage if there is not sufficient resistance. People just nod, smile, and recite gibberish when they hear what’s been happening, while you try to figure out who you can trust. Over years, it was shocking to discover: a lot of these privileged and entitled scumbags are on board. So I smiled, complied, shucked and jived as I saw the other harried and harassed people who made it growing up sometimes do, and knew I was in for a long haul to disable these illicit powers. She could just take me out in a way that rings alarm bells in a sane environment, but who the hell would listen to that from me in an insane environment? The answer is no one who could do anything, so I spent years towards pushing this public, where I knew I would be addressing mostly the delusional, malfunctioning minds of 21st century white America, where navels are tirelessly and angrily inventoried for lints while checks are cashed. “The bad guys are somebody else! The bad guys are somebody else!” I have tired of hearing this; I voted for Ruth Messinger for mayor of NYC in 1997 as my first vote, but got Rudolph Giuliani again instead.

My mother believes that whatever she doesn’t like or opposes her personal will, but is not illegal, can be portrayed as “mental illness” predatorily, and subject to some kind of arbitrary extrajudicial control that she has an inexplicable sway over, due to birthright, or something. The list of things she doesn’t like is very, very long. I know she likes Linda Ronstandt and Aretha Franklin and orange rolls and yelling and cursing about how evil white men are and how her life has been very difficult due to entirely unspecified reasons with no specifiable difficulty. There are no actual stories of adversity, just lists of bizarre unspecific complaints about things people have said, with income and shelter guaranteed to her regardless of her employment status. Things about priests, she was always yelling about priests, and I didn’t know any priests in Brooklyn and neither did she. She loves screaming about priests, evil white men, and grievances about her ten minutes in the TV industry in Chicago right after college in which she admits she was needlessly oppositional. She speaks warmly of Telly Savalas because he was nice to her on an internship, whom she met through this Beverly Hills fascist from her hometown named Bonnie Cacavas in the 70s, who became her prime mental health retaliation mentor and connection.

It’s all a bunch of radioactive toxicity, to be frank, but her friends and enablers just nod, nod, nod, and enable. People who believe they have been lifelong freedom fighters who are getting the freedom for, um, somebody? I have experienced them as a group of disturbed and aggressive people, and I can understand why MAGA types could hate them; I just think they are out of their minds and delusional and unbelievably invasive. I kind of like a lot of them still, as they’re just another set of somewhat lovable dangerous wackjobs to me. I’m a native NYer, I am used to lovable dangerous wackjobs, but some of these Americana types are just too abstract. You had better avoid when they see red if you can, but you probably can’t, and they’ve been seeing red for more than a decade now, like bulls on meth with a screwed matador. While the whole milieu gets paid even more across the board.

It gets tough to list what my mother likes after that, and so everything else is a candidate for proxy “mental illness.” She mostly degrades and disparages things, she seems to viscerally enjoy that. To me, she’s a routine criminally predatory person who is so grasping at hostile straws that she has to target imaginary threats in her environment under the guise of earning, like a lot of people. When she is the demonstrable predatory threat who cashes the checks for her predatory endeavors. Meanwhile, all the real and actual threats out there are loving her for all the distractions and problems she causes in her own environment, not theirs.

When the Baby Boomers criticized and condemned their parents for their scheming, they expected to be rewarded for it. When Gen X does it, we know we will be called “mentally ill” or worse. My case shows how next to impossible this is to address, and reactionary hate, violence and political hyperpolarization are likely to worsen under those parameters, tragically and wrongly. ▪️