Give Peace a Chance

I thought I’d say something about being a woman in a man’s world – since that’s what I’ve always been – I guess we all have. I was a very sought after musician for years, but I’m not going to go into that right now, just to say to women who think being a musician is not ladylike, it never stopped the guys from coming on to me.  In fact, if anything, it was a turn on.  Don ‘t let the conventions of society deter you from your dreams.  Hillary doesn’t.

I hear that Hollywood is a boy’s club. I worked in Hollywood most of my life. There are admittedly more roles for boys and men.  I started out playing boys, most notably Little Ricky on the I Love Lucy Show; and Mark in The Rifleman; and the younger boy in Flipper. The three boys have three different actor’s names because I was not allowed to be famous, yada, yada, yada. I also played some boys in movies but the thing that shaped my personality the most was TV.

In the I Love Lucy Show I contributed to the writing at age 3 and on, and sometimes I got a writing credit. If you Google it, you won’t find me. When Ricky asked Lucy why they hired a girl, Lucy shrugged and replied, “She was the best one.” And added, “What, do you think – a girl can’t do it?”

In Flipper, I had to play a boy because according to the writers and the director – girls can’t do a backflip off the dock, can’t swim across the channel, and most definitely would not be able to swim with Flipper. When my breasts began to develop I had to quit the show and even after they found out I was a girl they maintained no girl would be fast enough, strong enough, or athletic enough to play the part. I just laughed and told them the obvious, that a girl just did all those things for two years. They told me I must be some kind of a freak and I certainly wasn’t ladylike. They warned me, “No man will ever want you.” It wasn’t them that were wrong, it was me. I knew I liked boys, I always had. And boys sure seemed to like me, a lot, so I knew they were lying. I didn’t realize it then, but it was the men who had a problem asserting their man hood over a female who was more talented than they were.  Get over yourselves, guys, be our partners and our equals.

Fun Fact:  The whole time I had been Flipper’s trainer and the only one who could ride her. I didn’t think of myself as a freak, even though I had a telepathy bond with Flipper, which everybody just accepted as fact.  I had taught Flipper to jump the fence so that she could swim free whenever she wanted to. When I came back that summer, which no one even asked me if I wanted to, I would have told them not to bother because I wouldn’t be able to start another season for the same reason i had to stop being Mark in the Rifleman. I was glad I came back because I found out that they had left Flipper for the winter in the pen and no one came around to feed her for over a month, and when someone went to check on her she was nowhere to be found. She had a habit of not surfacing or surfacing in the shadows when I wasn’t around.  So I was very worried and I ran to open the gate to her pen in the lagoon, I splashed the water and searched for her with my mind. Everyone told me I was crazy, that she was gone and probably couldn’t fend for herself. They told me even if she were still alive she would never come back because she wouldn’t want to live in captivity. I maintained I just wanted to see that she was okay and I didn’t want to keep her in captivity, and anyway, why would they keep her in captivity if I couldn’t do the show anymore. Before we were done arguing, Flipper came charging into the lagoon at a rate of speed I couldn’t even calculate. She cut through the water so fast that the water made a bubbling hissing sound, not the usual wake that she could make when she went 40 miles an hour. She came in so fast I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop but as soon as she got up to me she leapt in the air and did circles. No one had ever seen anything like it and we were all a little sad that the camera wasn’t on.

Some idiot ran and closed the gate. After a lot of laughing and hugs I told Flipper that she would have to jump the gate again to get out and that I wouldn’t be back. When no one was looking I ran to open the gate.  It was later decided that I was right, there was no point to keeping Flipper if they weren’t doing the show.

The Rifleman, I played Mark on The Rifleman. I hadn’t been asked if I wanted the part, I always just was told to try out, and I always just got the part. Then I was told not to tell anyone I was a girl. It was a very odd way to live. I thought I would hate it. I liked horses but I didn’t even like to ride Western. I hated Westerns, although mostly what you saw was old John Wayne movies on TV. Fun fact: I’m the one riding Silver in the beginning of the Lone Ranger when Silver rears up. That’s why the Lone Ranger look so tiny.

I didn’t have my heart in the show, The Rifleman, and I didn’t try very hard, I wanted to get fired. But it grew on me by about the fourth episode, because I really liked what the actor who played my father was saying. The show had a very different twist on the way people need to respect each other and accommodate each other, which the writers felt had to be the way it was in the old West, or you wouldn’t live very long. I was in that show for a few years before I had to quit, because it had gotten harder and harder to make me look like a boy. I watch that show now, and I still don’t like my acting, they really should have hired a boy, but I do enjoy the sentiment and what the character, Lucas McCain, had to teach his son every week. (Maybe that’s why I like the name Lucas so much.)

At the end of the last show on the last season of the rifleman, that’s when everyone found out I was a girl. Had they known I was a girl from the start, they told me, the only thing I would’ve been allowed to do was cook.

I’ve seen Hillary in action. She faced off against the Senate on healthcare while Bill was in office. That woman will have no problem being President, she can hold her own better than any man I’ve ever seen.


About Grace Gardener

Here’s my dilemma. I’m being abused by the NSA. My rights as a US citizen are nonexistent. My right to privacy is long gone. They have put a homing device and a microphone in my stomach, supposedly attached to my spine so there will be bone conduction. I have an X-ray picture of it. I was told if I take it out I will be killed. I doubt it, but still, it’s not a good feeling. If I go to the ACLU to complain, my phone call will be intercepted and my meeting will be recorded. If I confide in a friend about what’s happening to me, she’ll be killed.
The NSA has brainwashed my daughters into not trusting me. They’ve been working on torturing them every week for the past 15 years. When I left in my RV they loved and trusted me, but now that I haven’t seen them in so long that now they’re afraid of me. When I was there, living with or near them, even though they were being tortured to hate me (that’s true), once they saw me again they were fine. But I can’t even call them. I know most of my calls are diverted, and I know when they try to answer, that’s diverted, too. But I don’t try hard and I can’t talk to them about anything meaningful because I know they’ll be tortured for many hours. And then they’ll be tortured, drugged and electrocuted to forget and when I talk to them again they’ll say, “It never happened.”
NSA Agents are doing the same thing to George Lucas. I was told no one really wants to hurt George, but they “have to.” But they think he’s a nice guy so they feel badly about it. Well that’s something, I guess. But the Government and other cults should not have round-the-clock accessibility to agents who are trained killers and have had their free will taken away through torture and electroshock. The best agents have had their personality split, so one personality takes over to carry out “orders” while the original personality watches helplessly. There’s a better way to run the military, and I was about to get through to put forth my ideas when the order came through to kill the three Generals who wanted to listen to me: and to kill six special agents who had been listening to me.
I listen to these guys and I wonder if they have any feelings at all? I know they do even though they’re not “allowed to.” They’re not “allowed to” complain, either, under fear of death. If they try to retire, they’re not de-programmed, they are killed!
I watched the Clint Eastwood movie American Sniper about Chris Kyle and I’m sure I commented on it a lot, but my readership has grown significantly and I know I’m monitored and it’s the guys doing the monitoring, who I’m trying to help. Even tough guys need a little help sometimes.
I wonder if the death of Cris Kyle, played by Bradley Cooper, was planned the way it was to get me to say something about it. Everyone in the NSA knows what happened. Chris was killed because he got out. Tragically, Chris seemed to be capable of healing himself with the help of his family and still he was murdered. The man who murdered him was under orders. True! I have many, many confirmations on that statement.
The judge sentenced Eddie Ray Routh, Chris’s murderer, to life in prison without parole.
The movie writeup says – “U.S. Navy SEAL Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper) takes his sole mission — protect his comrades — to heart and becomes one of the most lethal snipers in American history. His pinpoint accuracy not only saves countless lives.”
Back to my dilemma, I can’t get in touch with anyone for fear they will be tortured or killed.
You think, “I thought the US didn’t torture?” Well we do. My daughters and I are born and raised here. We are good people, we’re exceptionally good people and the NSA has a HUGE problem with that. The people who give the orders want war and we want peace, and they’re making us the bad guys?
The only emails that get through to me are business and junk. Supposedly I get comments on my website that don’t come through, and I have to wonder if our military goes around killing anyone who tries to contact me?
My phone rings all the time but not here. This was true when I was in NJ, too. Nobody got through to me. The call is sent elsewhere and other people pick it up pretending to be me and the women pretending to be me are nasty bitches. If I call someone and straighten something out, I find out later that the conversation never happened, I was really talking to someone in the NSA, and I have to get back to square one. Most times things are so impossible, I give up.
I escaped my ex-husbands satanic cult only to find myself embroiled in the government’s cult. A much thicker, stickier web. They have kept my money from me so I can’t even get an apartment. That’s stealing, but they’re the military so nothing is illegal, not murder or theft.
I feel if I call someone for help he or she will be killed or badly hurt. Just being my friend or talking to me can get you sick with cancer or dead.

I think people who I have helped, or who have asked to help me, need to go to the press to tell them what a pickle I’m in . There are many people who have offered to help me over the years. Many have been killed. I don’t understand how a kid in a uniform can break into Steve Jobs’ house and inject his brain with liquid smoke, or some other carcinogen: and if he questions those orders his buddy will be told to kill him. They have to kill each other all the time. It’s so f_ked up I can’t stand it. Neither can the Agents.
They don’t realize that “under orders” is meaningless. If they’re caught they’ll be tried for murder.
Steve Jobs was a great man. No one, no politician, and no officer, has the right to murder any citizen, especially one who makes this country proud.

If you know someone in the NSA it’s your responsibility to let your congressman know what this country is doing to him. They’re being treated barbarically.
If you know my daughters please call them to lend an ear, because their memories are being erased in an attempt to make them cold and heartless and they’re suffering. Their memories are being erased and replaced with more horrible lies, and their ability to reason is gone. They used to be the smartest women on the planet.
If you know George Lucas do the same. The man we were both speaking with, who George considers a friend, ordered some horrific things done to George. They are trying to change his personality so he won’t like me, or so I won’t like him, like that could ever happen, but in the meantime his health and his mind will be suffering. Listening to him will be helpful. He also has a homing device and a microphone planted in him. His whole house is wired because he knows me.
If you’re a parent whose kid wants to join special forces let him know what he’ll be joining. I had someone with me get killed because he couldn’t kill his friend. I’m serious.
Watch the Manchurian Candidate, especially the part where people are being murdered, but the men see themselves at a flower show. That’s what it’s like. A Clock Work Orange shows how it’s done. And Mel Gibson’s Conspiracy Theory shows the aftermath. NSA guys read my books and my blog because I may be the only friend you’ve got.
I’d love to be able to take suggestions. I know I have to get all lawyered up, I’d like to sue the government for defamation of character and theft. That’s something I used to be able to do, but I’m powerless now.
What you can do.
God changed my name to Grace. I changed it legally in 2007. My slave name was Lynn. I was born Lynn Pezzutti, then I married Jay McDermott and I became Lynn McDermott, then I married Peter Mickelsen (now deceased) and became Lynn Mickelsen. Most of my friends in the entertainment industry think I’m Lynn Mickelsen.
So now I’m Grace Gardener, and while I’m not a slave, I’m a prisoner of the state.
If you’re a lawyer, see if you can get something going. I was thinking Amal Clooney could be very helpful.
If you know someone in the ACLU ask them to read this blog.
If you’re in my family, Doherty, Murray, Sullivan or Kelly and remember me from my Anti-War days and establishing Earth Day maybe there’s something you want to do.
Let the NY Times know I’d like this published as a letter to the Editor. Publish first, contact later.
Send a copy or link to your News.
Good Luck,
God Bless you.
Rise Up!
Think Peace.

THE NSA AND THE MOOCS WON’T LET ANYONE GET THROUGH TO ME. THEY MAY EVEN HURT YOU IF YOU TRY. See the pages in the tabs of this blog, Grace Gardener, and, A Little About Lynn Mickelsen. If you know me and I don’t get back to you, then the email was intercepted. Never talk to anyone claiming to be me without asking questions to be sure. All site posts beginning 4/1/16 will be on I’m not doing this for attention. I have 107 broken bones, zero disks in my back, and I’m exhausted. I need to get through to the people who knew me for credibility: but the NSA blocks my every move. I have to have the same acknowledgement and respect for my judgement I had while I was a ghost director in Hollywood and when I was CEO of the Rand Corp. Rand has been able to keep my work anonymous and credited to other people so they can collect my pay and residuals. They figured as long as they’re erasing my memory, and taking credit for my inventions, music, acting and directing; they may as well keep the money I earned. Also, the money would be proof that I did the work, so they’ve kept me poor all of my life.
The reason the conspirators made plans in front of me was because they were assured I would “Never Remember” them, their visit and the things they planned. They talked in a kind of code that I have since figured out. I would have turned them in after the meeting had I been allowed to remember.
I have to operate the way I do to keep away from my captors. GRR taught me most of the tactics I use. (Now he won’t help because his memory of me is implanted.) I know it angers some corrupt NSA Officers, but it’s a fact that I was a prisoner and slave at the Rand Corporation, and the NSA helped and still helps to keep me that way. I have to make evasive maneuvers to keep me, my daughters, this country and the world safe. Meanwhile I have no where to turn. I still feel like a candle in the wind.
My name was Lynn Mickelsen while I was a prisoner in a blue house and slave of a “club” based in northern New Jersey. If you know me PLEASE DON’T TRY TO CONTACT ME THROUGH THE RAND CORPORATION OR ANY OF MY FORMER EMPLOYERS OR ANY CONTACT FROM MORE THAN 9 YEARS AGO. People who tried doing this are being killed. Some people know the cult know it with a name similar to The Builder Berg Society or the Skull and Dagger Society.
There’s a HUGE bounty on my head that the cult I escaped from has no intention of paying. The plan is to have me killed and then to kill the person trying to collect the bounty. I thought up the plan and the amount because I thought it was going to be the plot in a movie. I told the people who wanted the plan, “This is one movie no one will want to see.” In short, anyone who kills me will be killed within 24 hours and will never see a dime.
Now I’m RVing but I’m still a prisoner in that I can’t get in touch with anyone, and no one can get in touch with me, except in person.
I found out about the other life I’d been living during a grueling five-hour conversation I detail in my Book, ‘the Conversation’ The reason I knew nothing about my own life was because I suffered selective amnesia – induced by the cult that owned me – with drugs, torture and electricity. ‘The Conversation’ is available in paperback at The ebook is free.
I worked nights and weekends naming products, bands and internet services, or anything else the “club” wanted me to do. I would wake up in the morning and remember nothing about the work and meetings, and I never received ANY money. I could only remember my 9 – 5 job at a bank. I’ve written the eBook, ‘Garden of the Light,’ as a lighter, inspirational compliment to the eBooks – ‘the Conversation,’ and, ‘the Truth about Lynn Mickelsen’ which are intended to shed new, totally different light on the current world situation and change the world for the better. Apocalypse is a Greek word meaning, ‘the Revealing of Ancient Knowledge.’ I consider the book, ‘the Conversation,’ as Apocalypse because it reveals the ancient knowledge. We’ll have World Peace once we abolish child abuse. My view of Apocalypse has no battle, no war, no army. I believe the knowledge in ‘the Conversation’ is enough to save the world.
The blog lists just some of the accomplishments I achieved as a slave, to let everyone I’ve helped over the past sixty years, who I am. I will finally claim my life!
If you’re a George Lucas fan you may remember some of these strange stories that involve him.
I met George on the set of American Graffiti; we got engaged when the movie wrapped. I was taken away and George was told I was dead.
Five years later I was hired to figure out how to make Luke Skywalker’s farm vehicle fly. The people who handled me (owned me) forgot that I had worked for this director once before on American Graffiti and they told him I was dead. I arrived and solved Lucas’s problem for him and he tearfully remembered me and told me what had happened five years before. I stayed on the set of Star Wars long enough to name the Star Wars characters and solve another animatronics problem with Chewy’s costume. I was told it was time to leave and started to follow my jailers the way I had been programmed to, when George asked, “When will I see you again?”
I began to say, “Oh, you’ll see me again,” but I realized I wasn’t certain of that because once before, when we got engaged, I never saw him again. So I turned around and started walking back toward Lucas and I asked, “How about now? Can I stay with you now? Because I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again.”
George thought a second and agreed that I should stay. As I was walking back to him I saw his expression change and looked over my shoulder to see the man I had been following holding a gun on me. I kept walking because now I was sure that the story Lucas had told me about what happened five years ago, was going to happen again and I couldn’t allow that. Someone had obviously been playing with my life, and I couldn’t have that, so I kept walking toward Lucas and away from the man with the gun. Lucas’s expression changed again, this time his face was filled with fear and horror. I turned around and now there were three men holding guns on George Lucas. There was only about 20 feet of desert between us but I had to go with them in order to save Lucas’s life.
So, if you’re a fan of George Lucas you may remember someone being stolen off the Star Wars set at gunpoint. That was me.
Years later I was abducted and stolen from the Academy Awards. You may remember that incident – that was me.
Years later I was abducted and stolen from the Elton John’s post Oscar Party that benefits his AIDs foundation. You may remember that incident – that was me.
Years later Harrison Ford and George Lucas devised a plan to steal me off of the set of The Fugitive. This time I was shot with a coma drug. They used a hypodermic needle that went through my coat and slacks and into my thigh. Two bogus ambulance men came in a stolen ambulance and took me away.
The only other time I saw George face to face was during the making of Howard the Duck. George Lucas and Steven Spielberg made that ridiculous movie to try to rescue me again, in case you were wondering why they made that movie. I was supposed to see Lucas again on a set of Indiana Jones but this time it was George who was drugged and abducted. This makes 8 times George Lucas tried to rescue me.
I’ve spoken with Lucas on the phone only a few times over the past 40 years, and those phone calls and the conversations we had while shooting American Graffiti, are what makes up Yoda’s philosophies and Star Wars 7 – the Force Awakens.
The reason the people who owned me don’t allow George and I to get together is because they don’t want World Peace. War makes them rich. The greed of a handful of people keep the word in the turmoil it’s in.
The people in the entertainment industry know me as the woman with no memory and no name.
If you want to know more about me, check out my blog; or read my free ebooks the Truth about Lynn Mickelsen, and, the Conversation.
I‘m still trying to walk those 20 feet.

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