Mr. President Elliot C. Boose

By Elliot Boose

Mississippi native and army veteran, Elliot C. Boose, evolved from the entertainment industry accomplishments such as America's Next Top Model to motivating United States presidents and governors to take actions that have changed our world with ideas, such as troop surge in Iraq, female presidents, Syrian refugees, release of nonviolent offenders, police body cameras nationwide, Mothers of the Movement, and several other innovative concepts. Other concepts, such as the GM gas card and a Ford reality vehicle design show, demonstrated his electrified brain enabled him to devise successful, innovative, and creative strategies and creations. The one dilemma was how to be compensated and recognized for these achievements. Detailing the events of his life in a book has been revealed as the answer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644626658

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Mr. President Elliot C. Boose

Elliot Boose

Copyright © 2019 Elliot Boose

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

ISBN 978-1-64462-666-5 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64462-665-8 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Preface

Mr. President Elliot C. Boose is an autobiography I had started working on in 2004. Initially, this book was created to enlighten everyone that homosexual and bisexual activity by straight men and women is very prevalent across the country and especially here in the black gay mecca—Atlanta, Georgia. Personally, I could count on my two hands how many people I had sex with prior to moving to the Atlanta in September 1997 at age twenty-three. I learned that people are extremely promiscuous, bisexual, share their wives and husbands at swinger sex clubs, and have unprotected sex with multiple people at the numerous and daily sex parties.

While I was writing Mr. President Elliot C. Boose, I had ideas stolen from me by Tyra Banks after I won a theme competition for her show, America’s Next Top Model, in 2005, which resulted in the models of cycle 4 posing as astrological signs in the galaxy. Due to this accomplishment, my employer, General Motors Acceptance Corporation, stole the GM gas card concept from me, which was subsequently copied by five other vehicle manufacturers including Ford Motor Company. Ford Motor Company created a reality vehicle-design show which aired briefly on ESPN in 2007 and was copyright protected, yet former Ford CEO Bill Ford stole the idea and got away with it without serving prison time. Instead, he was demoted and replaced. I was homeless due to blacklisting by GMAC and living out of my car, with relatives and with evil Atlanta gays for two years as I pursued unsuccessful pro se lawsuits due to errors and misinformation from attorneys. Also, during this time, I had a sexual encounter with a world-famous black entertainer at a gay adult bookstore in North Miami where, it appears, I was set up to be killed afterward since I was aware of his sexuality.

Mr. President Elliot C. Boose also has in-depth information about astrology. I worked in a call center environment for several years, and I noticed that people of the same sign exhibit the exact traits described in astrology books. So every time I spoke to a customer, I could see their birth date and noticed, as I interacted with them over time, that each sign shows certain characteristics. I do not study horoscopes; I study and compare the characteristics and have done this for thirteen years and still find remarkable consistency. It even got to the point I could determine a coworker sign correctly on first try once I show them their patterns of behavior. Now who else does that at their job, speaking to hundreds of customers a day and observing their birth sign to determine patterns and motivation behind why a person exhibits the behavior proved to be consistent? I studied several astrology books in an endeavor to see how is this possible and realized that energy from the galaxy changes during the twelve cycles with the positioning of planets each cycle. Each cycle exerts a unique electromagnetic energy on planet Earth, and the developing brain of humans born during these cycles are constructed by this energy.

Mr. President Elliot C. Boose also describes nutrition revelations I discovered and applied on myself and family members to include my ninety-two-year-old grandmother in New Albany, Mississippi. Ms. Ardie Mae Boose is a widowed preacher’s wife who contributed to that community by giving food on credit and continued even when those customers did not repay. I am so proud to be a grandson who grew up as she got older and was able to restore her health with my nutrition and supplement knowledge. Despite sharing this nutrition information with others after explaining the critical-thinking logic how it works and explaining the remarkable effects my grandmother and I experienced using it, only a few relatives and associates put the advice into action, who also received the same positive results. Others who ignored the advice either had a stroke or heart attack shortly after receiving the information, or someone close to them died as a result of heart disease.

It is equally disconcerting that I found out about megalomaniac Jim Jones at the age of forty-three in 2017 by watching a documentary on Reelz, which described the mass murder he committed among his religious brainwashed in 1978. In 1978, I was four years old when this devastating event happened and did not find out about it until I was forty-three. Knowing how intense religion is in the South, I realized if Jim had visited the South, there would have been thousands more killed, including my family who, I am sure, would have joined his flock. It amazed me that American citizens continued to be religious brainwashed after this horrific event happened to the religious brainwashed Jones’s followers.

The human immunodeficiency virus was introduced in 1981 when I was seven years old in the first grade, of which I did not become aware until 1987 while I was in the seventh grade. This is the first devastating event that changed the world that I noticed happened while Republicans had control, which highlighted their evil by not taking action to cure the illness since it was initially believed to only affect gays and bisexuals. President Reagan took action only after hemophiliac white preteen Ryan White contracted the virus as a result of an infected blood transfusion.

The Gulf War happened in 1990 when I was sixteen in the tenth grade. My world history teacher, Mrs. Shelton, evoked fear by stating, You are all going to see horrible times that you have never seen before. No such horrible times occurred. In 1998, I was twenty-four when the affair of President Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky was exposed. The fact that a sitting president was cheating on his wife and humiliated her worldwide brought monumental sympathy for First Lady Hillary Clinton. I feel this sympathy later helped Hillary secure a Senate seat for New York in 2001.

President Clinton was notified in December 1998 that terror group al-Qaeda was planning an attack. This was the same time impeachment proceedings started against President Clinton. In hindsight, President Clinton’s inaction to the planned terror attack notification may have been the direct cause of the horrific and historic multiple attack on September 11, 2001. It is reasonable to conclude that the worldwide embarrassment of the exposed affair and the impeachment detracted President Clinton’s attention from the intelligence revealing the terror plot. September 11 was the second devastating event that changed the world that happened while Republicans controlled the federal government. However, it happened because of President Clinton’s inaction. It is also reasonable to assert President Clinton did not act on the terror intelligence because he needed an all-encompassing distraction a terror attack would cause. It is also reasonable to assert that the worldwide humiliation and pervasive investigation into the affair by independent council Kenneth Starr could have motivated President Clinton to intentionally ignore terror warning to ultimately punish others for the exposure of his extramarital affair.

President Bush’s first presidential win was assisted with the help of his brother, Florida Governor Bush, whose state had to perform multiple vote recounts since majority black counties who voted Democrat had voting dilemmas, such as hanging chads and other ballot problems, since Florida did not have a uniform method of counting manual votes. A majority Republican Supreme Court declined a recount and allowed Bush to become president.

In 2006, I watched in horror as over 200 American troops were getting killed each month under the incompetent direction of President George W. Bush, who clearly did not know what he was doing. This slaughter was a stark contrast from President George H. Bush’s Gulf War that accumulated 219 casualties during the entire war and who was successful in killing the sadistic dictator Saddam Hussein. The consistent deaths of two hundred a month forced me to contact the White House for the first time, advising that I was in the process of studying the war and the Middle East in order to submit a strategy to dramatically reduce troop and civilian deaths, which was what happened when President George W. Bush implemented the troop surge and other ideas within my strategy in January 2007.

Since I made three major accomplishments that went into effect worldwide, I started e-mailing ideas and strategies to the White House and governors and noticed majority of the ideas were implemented with President Bush, President Obama, Governor Nixon of Missouri, and Donald Trump. Yes, I just referred to him as Donald Trump since he is not a legitimate president. Since none of them have bothered to give me credit, I decided to include these additional injustices in this book. It seems that if a citizen makes the effort to analyze problems and then takes the time to create a successful strategy and submit it and readers can clearly see the strategy was implemented after submission and achieves the exact result that I stated would happen in the strategy that some type of appreciation would be shown. Regardless, there are always the jealous, messy trolls who will continue to negate facts even if proper credit is given and announced. Since readers of the date-and-time-stamped original documents can clearly see I submitted the ideas that were implemented shortly after submission, then all readers should conclude that Elliot C. Boose should be president of the United States.

Chapter 1

January 1974–1987

I was born January 1, 1974, in Booneville, Mississippi. It is a small, conservative town in northeast Mississippi, north of the birthplace of Elvis Presley, Tupelo, Mississippi. I always referenced Elvis to give my backward, conservative Republican and racists state some type of prestige when asked where I am from and later started to reference Oprah Winfrey, who was born in Kosciusko, Mississippi. I was unaware how backward, racists, conservative, and Republican dominated until I joined the army at age eighteen and made my first trip from the south and started to see the difference in states, such as Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, Chicago, Missouri, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, and Colorado. My mother was a teenager at the time she gave birth to me. I have been told recently by her mother that I was a beautiful child and striking. My mother and many of her relatives are dark-skinned in complexion, and my father, Allen Ray Boose, was medium-brown-skinned. However, I was a high, exquisite yellow baby.

My grandmother, Martha, is a highly respected dark-skinned pillar of the community. Everyone knows her. She is the type of person, who, when she passes away, the entire city will be at her funeral. She is a Virgo who preferred to be called Mot. I would visit her regularly at her house where she constantly had a congregation of other relatives who either lived with her or just stayed there all day. I look at my skin complexion now, which is a medium-brown skin, but at birth, I was a bright-skinned yellow baby. I asked Mot who was the baby whose picture had been directly over her rocking chair on the wall in the same place for so many years. She told me it was me. I looked down at the back of my hands to show my disbelief. I could not believe it. How could I have started out so yellow but later become so brown? It seemed as if it was two totally different people. Mot told me that I was born with several complications; one major problem was asthma.

My mother, Marie, told me she took me to the hospital several times, and I could tell she was worried about my viability. Mot told me I could not play out in the yard. I could tell by the way she said it that my livelihood was a big issue. My asthma attacks must have caused so much fear in the family. Imagine, a young mother possibly in tenth grade having to deal with the constant stress of her new baby dying, or just imagine how she felt knowing she had a sick baby. I now know that asthma attacks cut off oxygen flow to the brain. With this decrease in oxygen, I understand that my brain developed at an astronomical rate, completely different from other human beings. This was the start of my human evolution. I was born a different child.

Mot lived in an old house which had roofing material as siding. As children, we thought nothing of it. We did not know we were poor or how we were perceived by others in the town. Marie has two older sisters, one older brother, and a younger brother. She is the youngest female in the family. Thomas is a tall dark-skinned black male with extremely large hands. I remember fearing him as a little boy because he was such a popular, confident jock. He did not take any shit, and I could tell by how others viewed him in the community that he was very popular. I was sexually attracted to him at a very young age, and I would try so desperately to see his dick. He would never respond in that manner though. I think he could sense my attempts, and I think he saw the homosexuality in me as a child, but he would never give me any indication he was aware of my attraction. My granddad, Alfred, was a regular drinker. At my birth, he was an old dark-skinned man with a lot of gray hair. I remember crawling onto him while he was either asleep or passed out on a chair after drinking.

Mot was a such a powerful and interesting black woman. I remember playing out in the front yard with my cousins Vicki, Junior, and Criselda, nicknamed Tootie. We were all the same age except Tootie, who was a little younger than us. She is such a brilliant clown. She said things that were so funny without any effort or thought. I remember my mother driving up in one of her nice cars one day. I stood on the porch, happy to see her arrive. I was such a mannish, entertaining little boy. I remember jumping up and down in excitement as she approached. I remember my cousin Vicki looking at me and smiling so brightly. As I reached out my arms in my excitement and boyish banter, I felt a big slap across my face. Marie had slapped me. I did not know why, but she slapped me and quickly ended my euphoria. I cried profusely. I think I went into the front yard as my cousins consoled me, and I looked over at the porch and remember Mot scolding my mother for slapping me. It was so powerful. Mot was standing on the porch, leaning over in front of my mother, who was standing on the ground. I saw my mother standing almost at attention while Mot scolded her. I believe Mot slapped her for slapping me.

It still amazes me to think back at this internal hierarchy of power and control. I watched as my mother stood there while her mother seemed to turn into the black female version of Hitler. I use Hitler as an example to show the absolute power Mot demonstrated. It was so awe striking, so powerful. I was never slapped again after that. I reminded my mother of this event recently, and she replied she remembered it as if it happened yesterday. She explained she slapped me because I had been outside playing against her wishes. She said she had gone through so much with me being in and out of the hospital, and when she saw me outside playing, she snapped. I understand now that this traumatic slap was an expression of love and characteristic of her zodiac sign, Taurus, who gets upset at all the wrong things.

I understand now if I had died as a child, my mother would not be able to handle it mentally. We were a tight group. We had other cousins younger than us and not as outgoing as us that we associated with, but we never really included them in our click. We did not discriminate; it just seemed that since they were younger, they were not in the same mind-set as us. The meal we so looked forward to was bread and molasses. Mot would make sure to have plenty of the Eagle brand molasses in the big, clear jar and plenty of bread. I remember we would pour the molasses onto a plate and wipe it up with white bread. We had developed a game, and I do not know if this was a game learned by other kids in the neighborhood or if we invented it ourselves. It was called Hide the Switch. Another was called That’s My Car.

Hide the Switch required someone to hide a long stick somewhere and whoever found it would come out and start whipping everyone. This game, I believe, was passed down from slavery. Vicki and I would either sit on the porch or lie in Mot’s bed, watching cars pass by. As each passed randomly, we would call out in order and tandem of each other and state, That’s my car. The entertaining aspect of the game was the quality of the car that passed and whose turn it was to say That’s my car as it passed. If it was a hooptie, we both would laugh. We would mentally keep count which one had randomly acquired the most hoopties and the most luxury cars. The person with the most luxury cars, of course, won. Stephanie is one of my much-older first cousins. She hung out with Tootie’s much older sister, Pricilla. Both were attractive teenagers with amazing bodies. As I played with cousins my age at the park or at Tootie’s mother’s house, Anne Evelyn, whose house was adjacent to the park, Stephanie would routinely harass me. I told my mother about it, and she told me to start harassing her back. This is the early start how I honed my smart-mouth skills. Since Stephanie was much older, it is very disconcerting to me that a family member would bother a much younger cousin who had just lost his father.

I have very little recollection of my father. I found out in my forties from Uncle Thomas Frank that Allen Ray used to babysit me at Mot’s house all the time. Thomas sighed in sadness that I had no recollection of him. Allen Ray was born with a brain aneurysm, which ruptured when he fell off a ladder doing a paint detail while he was in the army. The only image still with me was his funeral. I was five years old and was sent to his casket by myself. I stood on something and looked down on his deceased body. I did not know what death meant. I was told nothing by my mother or family that my dad was gone forever. This event traumatized me. In my forties, I found out that my grandmother, Ardie Mae Boose, was made aware of Allen’s brain aneurysm when he was born. My mother told me that Ardie said to the doctor, I don’t want you cutting on my baby. Had she allowed the operation, the aneurysm would have been treated. Allen Ray also has an older brother, Willie (Poon) Boose. My mom revealed to me in 2009 after I recovered from a murder attempt that Willie would be out with Allen, running the streets. There was a car accident that had put my dad in the hospital. Mom said that Willie did not visit him in the hospital. I find this unacceptable and selfish. Older brothers and sisters are supposed to look out for their younger siblings. Willie was more concerned having sex with everyone and doing drugs. Since they were both gorgeous preacher’s sons, they were very popular in New Albany, Mississippi, and since that family had money because of their great-grandfather being a house slave and that slave master had left land and reparations to his slaves.

My mother obtained a brand-new three-bedroom house in Frankstown, an extremely rural town with rocky roads. She was able to obtain this home due to my father’s recent death associated with an ailment he had in the US army. Of course, the other black female neighbors were jealous of her. She was young, beautiful, and slim with a brand-new house. The neighbors had generations of relatives all living in the same house. I remember one of mother’s boyfriends, Jesse Earl. He was from Booneville. He was so masculine and sexy, a drinker and smoker with a humungous dick. I, of course, would migrate my little hot ass onto his lap while he would sit in the den with his friends.

Again, I would strategically place my hands underneath my ass with my palms facing outward so I could feel on his dick. Like Grandad’s drinking buddies, I do not think he knew what I was doing. Jesse Earl did a trick for me one day. He was standing and smoking in front of the electric heater with his legs spread in such a masculine stance. He put the cigarette in his mouth backward and smoked it. I was amazed. I then blurted out, Is mine going to be as big as yours when I grow up?

He and my mother laughed, and Jesse stretched his arms out and replied in usual joking manner, Yours is going to be this long. He chastised me one time in the bathroom. I was in my underwear and I had stuffed the front with a roll of tissue. He never laid a hand on me, and I could tell he was careful not to be too aggressive with me. He used to take me to the barbershop and sit there patiently to socialize with others. I remember fidgeting and crying and Jesse would come up console me with his jokes. He was not outside smoking or socializing with others; his full attention was on me. I think back now and imagine he treated me so well because of how I looked, his relationship with my mother, and he knew my father was dead.

My mother would take me to visit my grandmother in New Albany once or twice a year. My aunt Senora Floyd was a schoolteacher in Okolona. Another aunt, Earnesteen, was a teacher in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I happened to visit grandmother when both aunts were at the house. Grandmother’s store was next to the house. Both aunts were so pleased watching me open boxes and stock and organize the merchandise on the shelf at the age of five. While at the house, I went to use the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet, the bathroom door opened and there were both of my aunts looking at me. Senora said, You are supposed to stand up when you pee pee, Elliot. At this time, I did not realize they were watching my mannerisms and had already made the assessment that I was gay. Grandmother had two trailers she rented that were also in her yard and a big white house directly behind the store she rented to tenants. On one occasion, I was playing in the yard with some of the tenant’s children behind the store. A car pulled over in front of the house, and a white man motioned for me to come to his car. He told me I was real cute and asked me to get into the car. Perhaps the spirit of my father or grandfather were watching over me, which may have been the reason I declined without even considering his invitation.

In Frankstown, we had a neighbor to our right who lived in a trailer. She was a single black mother with a little girl, Ducee, who was about my age. Normally I would stay in the yard all day playing in the sand and collecting black widows and other dangerous insects. On occasion, I would walk next door and play with Ducee. One day, we were underneath the trailer. There was a steel rod underneath that vibrated. Ducee and her other girlfriend told me to touch it. I did so without any hesitation. Suddenly, my arm started to shake and vibrate. The arm and the left side of my body became numb. I could not release the rod. Ducee and her friend became frightened. They grabbed me and struggled to pull me away. They finally succeeded. If they had not pulled me from the rod, my mother would have had a dead six-year-old child right after losing her young husband. From that day forward, I became an even more unique child. This was the tsunami of near-death experiences after the asthma attacks.

Jesse Earl and my mother were no longer dating at this point. His disappearance was a complete shock to me, especially since I never witnessed him and my mother argue. Another positive father figure was taken out of my life. One of my deceased father’s college associates, Bruce, suddenly materialized. Bruce was an extremely violent man who smoked cigarettes and marijuana and drank. He lived in a small shack like house he had built next door to his mother and father, Lyvelle and Hosea, and eventually moved in with us, which was a contrast from Jesse Earl who lived in Boonevile during the time frame he was dating my mother. He was always so