15 January 2017

A Commander owns me and my uterus, too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ZJGegIS9Lw =
Ms Margaret Atwood's .ALWAYS.ALWAYS. relevant
,,, ,,, The HANDMAID'S TALE.

A Commander owns me and my uterus, too. 
His own private G I L E A D.
No DREAM.  An ACTUAL R E A L I T Y.

From November y1975, through to the present day within y2017, a Commander using, as he did, the crisis against mamas within the patriarchal family law courts of the USA (as of thus:  http://now.org/now-foundation/crisis-in-family-courts/family-law-newsletter) owns and takes my three babes, then keeps them entirely and utterly away from me. 

Throughout ALL of the rest of their entire childhood and teenage years.

I was nothing.  I was made invisible to my own children.  And eventually in very, very short order --- within weeks to months actually --- became to my children as to have, at all, never ever even existed.

Within the United States.  Within the 20th and 21st Centuries. 

= A WAR this is upon knowing mothers

(ie, we, the war - veterans,
 .know. who and what these men are)

A WAR about which no one with the power
to stop this patriarchal and androcentric holocaust
... ... cares one whit.

True this.

01 January 2017

"No, We Don’t Have to 'Get Over' Anything"

"You want me to get over my loss? Actually, it'd make a lot more sense for you to get over your need for me to get over my loss." --Timothy Lawrence

http://johnpavlovitz.com/2016/11/29/no-we-dont-have-to-get-over-anything/?utm_campaign=coschedule&utm_source=facebook_page&utm_medium=John+Pavlovitz

http://johnpavlovitz.com/2016/10/17/our-sons-deserve-better-than-donald-trumps-example-of-manhood/?utm_campaign=coschedule&utm_source=facebook_page&utm_medium=John+Pavlovitz   

two from Mr Pavlovitz in late y2016 ... ...

Our Sons Deserve Better Than Donald Trump’s Example of “Manhood”

My son is 11 years old; bright and beautiful and fitted with a heart far larger than it has a right to be. He’s that kind of brilliantly alive that only an 11-year old boy can be.

And this year, we let him down.
Donald Trump did.
The GOP did.

The Evangelical Right did.
Much of America did.

I did. 

This year, while so many people openly (and rightly) lamented the devastating effect Donald Trump’s disgusting treatment of women (and the inexplicable defending of said treatment) will have upon young girls looking on, we all forgot something: our sons were watching and listening too.
 
I’m not sure we’ve stopped to think about what kind of young men we’re creating right now.
I don’t know if we’ve considered the collateral damage this is doing within the boys in our collective care. 

I don’t think we can fathom what our sons in a Donald Trump America are likely to grow into:

Men with a dangerous sense of entitlement when it comes to the bodies of women.
Men for whom violent, hateful, objectifying words about women are viewed as normal.
Men who believe that money and power and their penises give them license to do whatever they want with a woman regardless of what she wants.
Men for whom the very idea of consent is unimportant.
Men who believe they will get rewarded for their misogyny and sexism and filth, because they’ve watched it happen.


This week my son asked me what Donald Trump said about women, and I did the best I could to relay it all without using the actual words, because to use the actual words Trump used, would have meant subjecting my son to the kind of explicit, angry vulgarity that isn’t normal and shouldn’t be normal for 11-year old boys—or boys of integrity of any age.

The words about women from a man who would be President, unfit to be repeated by a father to his son. Let that sink in for a minute. 

Trying to find any scenario in which any man talking about grabbing a woman by the genitalia and forcing himself on her physically is at all normal or acceptable, underscores the tragic absurdity of it all. It also illustrates the depths to which we’ve fallen and the sickness which is so pervasive; that our politics now so easily trumps our humanity.

The fact that a man with such a well-documented pattern of misogyny is the GOP representative for the highest office in the country (let alone garnering the support of millions of people who claim faith in Jesus) should be an embarrassment to any self-respecting parent and Christian. We should be sick to our stomachs right now, realizing how poisonous this all is to the hearts and minds of our boys. We should be openly condemning it all, if we had any regard for them and any interest in who they are becoming.

That so many fathers (and mothers) are not doing so, means that maybe Donald Trump is exactly the person to best represent us in the world. Maybe that is how low the bar we’ve set for our young men really is. Maybe the support for Trump is a true measure of the hatred so many men have toward women and the self-loathing too many of those women are afflicted with.

I have better dreams for my son than this.
I want him to know that girls and women are worthy of respect and decency and gentleness.
I want him to know that dehumanizing a woman is never normal; not in a locker room or a frat party or a board room or a bedroom.
I want him to know that another woman’s body is not his jurisdiction.
I want him to know that a woman’s outward no is louder than his internal yes.

I want him to know that there is a huge difference between being a man—and being a gentleman.

I believe my son deserves better than this week. All our sons do.

They deserve far better than a Donald Trump presidency. They deserve a higher definition of what it means to be a man, than an insulting, groping, bragging predator who treats women with complete disregard. 

They deserve a Christianity that isn’t as pliable as the Conservative Right and so many professed believers have made it in order to accommodate their candidate.

They also deserve better than to see adults making excuses for the words Trump has said and the things he’s done. They deserve parents, mentors, and role models who won’t sell their souls to align with a party or retain power.

One day my son will be a man, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to ever worry that he’s not a man who recognizes women as valuable and equal and worthy of respect, and I’m going to shout down all the voices that would speak something different into his ears, even if those voices are of family members, friends, pastors, and Presidential candidates.

Rationalizing sexual assault and violence toward women as just “boys will be boys”, is the best way to ensure that our boys grow-up to become abusive men who have contempt for women and believe that to be what all men do. I refuse to participate in that.

At this point, opposing this kind of language and behavior shouldn’t be seen as a political move—but a human decency move. There shouldn’t be an alternative side to choose here; not if we love our sons and daughters.

Right now my son and millions of other bright and beautiful boys with big hearts and bigger questions are watching and listening to Donald Trump, and to us.

He is failing them.

We can’t afford to.            
 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I’m not okay with this.
I’m not getting over it.
I’m not going to accept it.
I’m not going to move on.

I’m not going to shut up.

I’m not going to make nice or give the benefit of the doubt or hold my tongue or fake unity or pretend that my eyes don’t see what they see. They see clearly, and that of course is the source of my burden. I don’t want to see this, but I do.

And so it really doesn’t matter how condescending the bullies become or the insults they hurl or how loudly they attempt to shout me down or the violence they generate against me. I am fully secure in my pissed-offness and they will have to contend with it for as long as it is required—for four years if necessary.

That is how valuable the really beautiful things of this country and its people really are. This is the fitting price tag for preserving the brilliant diversity that has always made America great. It is the fair cost of nurturing a Liberty that is available to everyone. The sleeplessness, the wounds, the things and the people that we will lose are all worth it.

There are times when outrage is the most precious virtue the human heart can house, and this is such a time. This anger is a sacred alarm in the center of our chests telling us to respond. These are not days to shrink back or to cling to decorum or to look away and hope that it will all be okay.

Yes, it will all be okay—because we will make it okay. 

We will do the messy, painful, exhausting work of waking up and pushing back the daily Cancer that seeks to metastasize around us. We will find other like-hearted people and we will craft an opposing reply to all that is unloving or ignorant or fearful. We will be the steady, strong resistance to that which we cannot get over.

This is what humanity does when it is at its best; it protects its most vulnerable, it stands firmly in the face of the bullies, it raises a defiant middle finger to tyrannical power and declares that Love is the far greater weapon.

The tactic of the bully is to try and make you feel ashamed for your decency, to become apologetic for the goodness in you. The bully depends upon your silence. He tries to isolate you and make you believe that you are alone and that no one feels the way you feel.

To Hell with that. We know better.

We know that numbers don’t bear it out. We know that we are not in the minority. In fact the bullies know that too. That’s why they’re so loud and so persistent and so desperately flailing now—because despite “winning” and despite seeming advantage they are still so afraid, so worried that it all will come tumbling down—which of course is true. Any victory of darkness is only temporary. Love always has the last word.

And so no, getting over anything isn’t necessary or even advisable in these days. Getting over this would be consenting to it, agreeing with it, making peace with it—and that would be defeat; acquiescing to the darkness.

So embrace every bit of sickness in your stomach, every ounce of heaviness in your heart, every tear that clouds your vision, and allow them all to move you toward other good people who are equally burdened and begin fighting. 

Light does its best work in the darkest places and so this is exactly where we need to be. 

Brothers and sisters, we shall not get over—we shall overcome.

25 December 2016

! >$5,000.00's worth over all of the years' worth !

Some mamas will drop off presents not even knowing IF
they will be received by their beloved children.

ME:  Over $5,000.00's worth over all of the years' worth.

OR:  IF Sperm Source, along with and assisted by His Next Pussy,
will give MY kiddos MY gifts ... ...
as IF these presents came from him !  And not from me !

As IF I had abandoned and forgotten my own kiddos !  O, indeed !

Some mamas will not even know what to give their beloved children
as they have had so little or NO contact that mama does not even know
what presents her own children would like.

What types of pets and other animals, what kinds of music, singers, drama, sports and other activities are her children into ?
What sizes do her children now wear ?
What are their favorite colors, books or toys ?

What we are feeling, the loss and the pain ?  Few get it.
Unless you have been here,
you cannot begin to know The Depth of the heartbreak and raw pain.

Down to One's Very Core.

No.  Not again.
I am --- never again --- to be put onto The Defensive !

https://protectivemothersallianceinternational.org/2015/12/17/experiencing-the-holiday-in-a-hero-protective-mothers-world

22 December 2016

Dr Legion True WINS BACK FULL CUSTODY ... ... 'cept

Dr Legion True WINS BACK FULL CUSTODY ... ... 'cept
... ... except she is deceived.  

It is easier to lie and to deceive --- it most certainly soooo is ---
inside an American court of family law --- either inside a district one or inside an appellate court ---
than it is to lie and to deceive ... ... even one's own self !

" ... ... we're a family !"  And then ?  ... ...  Then, we weren't:
... ... http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3553976/videoplayer/vi3819942937?ref_=tt_ov_vi 


My closest friend in the World –– you, Jury, know of her from back within Chapter Five / Friends and from within Chapter Thirteen / Finishing School (her Listening College) for Fathers –– told me when she, Ms Grace Portia, read Hypocrite Herry’s chatty hooking blather exactly one month after it was published, “I guess Herod needs to profess what he’s done ‘to protect’ children.” 

Friend Grace is referring to not only that one OUTRAGE of Patriarch Edinsmaier’s androcentric, asinine and criminal entitlement of himself near Chapter Twenty – Nine’s conclusion whereat he, an adult male modeling an allegedly accountable fathering role, literally leads Dr. Legion True’s two minor Boys, Jesse then just labeled with bipolar brain, and Mirzah, right into, onto and throughout another woman’s property, not only without her permission but also without the DEhuman even being present at her own residence, for his and the teenage Boys’ motherfucking, dissing – of – all – women’s and mocking purpose of home invasion, stealing and subsequently absconding with my (from AmTaham True’s) guns kept and stored there in Friend Linda’s basement –––– but Grace also refers in that one wee profundity of hers regarding King Herod and his ‘fatherly protection’ … … to absolutely all.all.all of The Opera:  We Were Mothers Once, and Young, that is, to what Smug Thuggish, Elitist, Terrorist and Savage Herod Edinsmaier has unconstitutionally and criminally perpetrated upon me and upon my Three Boys within, and outside of, the states’ custody court system throughout all of the many decades’ worth of Hypocrite Herry’s comings and goings and thinkings and doings.

Within the scathing dissent of Appellate Judge Pansy Shawshank’s first page’s first half and immediately succeeding Legion’s second appeal (Act Three, Part Five of The Opera !) completely written, all of it printed off in to its mandated ! 21 total copies ! with Dr. True’s never missing in the appeal’s unfolding sequence even one correct document’s file – stamping nor even one deadline therefor and orally argued by herself –– ! pro se ! –– before the three – judge panel of Tuesday, 07 June 1994’s Iowa Court of Appeals, Judge Shawshank states thus:  “LOOKING AT THE RECORD BEFORE US IN THIS APPEAL,

I DO NOT THINK WE COULD HAVE BEEN MORE WRONG

WHEN WE PREDICTED HEROD WOULD HELP THE CHILDREN DEVELOP A STRONG RELATIONSHIP WITH BOTH PARENTS.  I CAN ONLY CONCLUDE FROM THE RECORD BEFORE US THAT AFTER HEROD RECEIVED PHYSICAL CARE, HE AND HIS CURRENT WIFE ENGAGED IN A COURSE OF CONDUCT DESIGNED TO TOTALLY CUT LEGION OFF FROM HER THREE YOUNG SONS WHO HAVE CONTINUALLY DECLARED THEY WISH TO BE IN THEIR MOTHER’S CUSTODY.”                            

Ms Pansy here, of course, writes of the “verdict,” the decisioning about children’s parenting and their well - being by three men of the State, only one of whom had heard Legion True’s second appeal.  Yes, you, Jury, guessed him:  Allen Donnellson.  Donnellson, the dirty dude who had perped That Very B I I I I G, Big Mistake from The Opera’s First Appeal (Act Two Part Three) wherein all three of those men had unconstitutionally decided that Hypocrite Herry actually be the Truemaier Boys’ custodial, read that, ‘protecting’ … … daddee. 
Know this especially though, Jury:  that of those three appellate judges’ verdict after Legion True’s second appeal?  TWO of those three, Judge Pansy Shawshank and the quite newly appointed Judge Barry L. Crowrook, rule in favor of restoring full custody back to Dr. True.  2 to 1 the Truemaier Boys’ mama prevails!

Dr. Legion True WINS back full custody of her three Truemaier Boys:  Jesse, Mirzah and Zane !
THE DECEIVING ! = Only when that Court of Appeals’ Chief Donnellson, similarly pillared in the eyes of the Iowa community as the Good and Wonderful Dr. Edinsmaier considers himself to be so statured, … … only when Dastard Donnellson, because he as daMan possesses the corrupting, aprovechar – taking and blindingly absolute power in his little “justice” – system keystrokes to do so, invokes and hooks in to this second appellate decisioning two more additional but different judges, also patriarchs and who previously had had nothing at all to do with the True appeal and who had heard of it no arguments whatsoever and because, primarily, To The Cuntly DEhuman, Dr. Legion True, There Is No Mother – Fucking Way, Ever, That Judge Donnellson of the First Appeal Is Going To Admit Having Committed Such a Carnage – Wrecking Mistake as His Declaring Herod Edinsmaier Any Kind of An Actual Father, … … is Vengeance – Taking and Hypocrite Herry through years and years’ worth of his trying to hoodwink and hook You, the Operatic Audience – Jury, in ––– actually “legally” capable of causing the children who are the three Truemaier Boys and all of their lives ––– now by an androcentric “verdict” of 3 to 2 against Legion True ––– to be lost to the mother and causing their mother, the DEhuman, to be for all of their youths invisible, then never existent to Mirzah, Zane and Jesse. 

Daddee Herry Edinsmaier’s Gutting – of – the – Bitch Butchery, Jury.  C o m p l e t e !

The bones of this Displaced Wartime Refugee’s True Father who is Righteous Ancestor AmTaham … … rest.

But only because, now, they are of osseous ash and carbonaceous dust. 
Not because, Jury, of any justice at any time anywhere done to or for this matter, My Case:  The Opera, of the True Father’s Child:  the Ancestor – in – Training and, now, One Woman Well Put Together, Legion True.          

True it is.  O, so head – bangingly true it is !  “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” 

--- Patrick Swayze portraying the film role of Johnny Castle in Dirty Dancing, 1987               - fin-  

--- Epilogue - excerpt of pp506 - 507, the Trilogy of Mother - Fucking:  the Saga of One Fucked Mother

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I could do something, however, about the remainder of Youngest Son Mirzah’s high school experience. Immediately I made an appointment for the 22nd of August, with Mirzah’s former pediatrician’s office to have done for him that very vaccination pronto: the MMR. School –– Mirzah’s sophomore year at Ames High –– could commence then … unobstructed. As the two of us inside the beater – wagon turned the Teacup’s corner onto Havencourt Drive along around 4 that Tuesday afternoon and after just concluding less than an hour earlier this so simple chore over to the Clinic, Mirzah and I smiled about the ease of this particular visit to the doctor –– in contrast to those of tiny children when they have to periodically go in for their shots. Almost simultaneously, we together spotted in the distance sitting alongside the curb of 6143, our condominium, something looming there about which I had such the ominous and threatening flashback: a Ryder rental truck.

Ol’ Black crept closer and closer to our driveway, and the smile vanished from my mouth. I cast a jerked and frightened gawk at Mirzah who exclaimed as he leaned forward toward the dashboard, “It’s Herry!”

“Om’god! A truck just like when he first took you all away, Mirzah!” Immediately thrown right back into hypervigilance mode, I remembered out loud that horrible Saturday morning of the 13th day of October almost five years previously! “What’s he doing here?! What’s he doing here with a truck, for chris’sake!?”

“I called him.”

“You called him?!”

“Wull, yeah. But. Um.”

“You called him an’, and … an’ right away out he comes?! But why?!” I was stunned. “What’s he gonna do?! He’s got a truck, for chris’sake! What does that mean, Mirzah?!”

“Well, ah, I … I, um, I think it means I’m going back to West Virginia, Mom.”

I was sick! Literally … sick. Nauseated and throat – choked, my breathing ceased again! Sure enough. “In and out in about an hour,” just like that television commercial beckons a viewer to go get himself fixed up with a pair of new eyeglasses of that hawking store’s particular brands.

“In and out in about an hour,” my whole life was stolen from me … yet once AGAIN! By now –– Daddee – Herry’s so infamous bait – and – switch gutting of the Bitch’s whole essence. And of at least two of those three Truemaier Boys’ beings, of course, as well. Yet once AGAIN!

As much as my remembering that so twisted whirlwind of those 60 – some minutes’ worth of both of these Truemaier Boys’ last moments beside me there on Havencourt Drive, I recall Herod Edinsmaier’s … signature snide smirkface. The Good and Wonderful Doctor – Daddee was on … The Take again! From specifically me –– on the prowl and on His Take … AGAIN! Taking back –– from me, the Kiddos’ mama –– both Mirzah and Jesse! “SONS, YOU HAVE NO MOTHER! MOTHER, YOU HAVE NO SONS! I say so! Therefore, Pussy, it is so!”

As with very many a hating and violent man, I am thinking now as I type, Jury, that if joy ever comes to this guy from anywhere or from anything, –– ever, truly –– then its emergence for him must almost always be tied to: how great is the pain and the grief and the sorrow –– how great is the vengeance –– that Dr. Herod Edinsmaier can manage to reign in and to rain down upon Legion True. What an insecure man! Dry – Drunk and Addict Herry’s happiness depends, daily, upon taking –––– upon his taking away … mine.

Pretty much the exact same assessment of and sentiment expressed about Herry –– precisely as a father –– by Iowa Court of Appeals Appellate Judge Pansy Shawshank –––– within her six – page majority decision! … … ah, er, that is, inside the one which, of course, became … because of sexism and chicanery by that court’s Chiefy Donnellson plus a couple other of his specific judiciary’s hench –– ah, er, um, … bench – men … the woman’s dissent, instead! She, naturally its one and only token DEhuman jurist, so saw Hardhearted Herry for who he was, too –– and she did so in far less time and scope than most other folks who come into Dr. Edinsmaier’s sphere have had at their disposals in order “to measure” him. Him … daMan. A destroyer doctor. “First, do no harm?” As so decrees the very first dictum to which all health care providers pledge themselves? This one also an alleged daddee, granted the M.D. degree in March of 1980, when Mirzah Truemaier was but a wee six months of age and Brother Jesse a 19 – month – old, is not an honorable and healing lifter – up of humankind but, instead, an insecure, ruthless –– and measurable –– rot who denies, ruptures and annihilates.

I had already forgotten about the disagreement Mirzah and I had had sometime during the previous week. And, now, I cannot even remember the cause at that time of my vexation with my so soon – to – be sophomore Son nor the scrape in which the two of us must have earlier engaged. I am said to have been so ireful at whatever it was that Mirzah did or said or wanted or decided on his own that I locked him out of the condominium declaring as I did so the directive, “My house. My rules.” I don’t believe the squabble could have been focused on something Mirzah said and certainly nothing that he did to people whom he considers his friends and acquaintances. He is just too sweet – natured a human being, then and now, to have purposefully and calculatingly with nefarious motive, hurt any one of his contemporaries intentionally.

Except for one matter –––– pornography. What hath Herry Edinsmaier wrought?

With his gonzo mind and his snide mouth and Corrupt Herry’s dastardly deeds against women, I suddenly remembered about, as Ol’ Black inched into the condo’s driveway, those two DEhumans whom Dr. Herod Edinsmaier had not even cared enough about to have bothered himself to get out of bed in time to show up for the women’s breast biopsies as their frozen – section pathologist whom he had been hired by Kansas City’s Downshim Laboratories to be! With Herry’s bestial (literally, –– Jury, remember the cows – / dogs – / pigs – / chickens – / and cunt models – fucking) view of womankind –– that same contaminating contagion which he had inherited from Detanimod’s Grand – Dominating Poker – Patriarch Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier and the one which both That Old Mother – Fucker and the sooooo, so christianizingly DEhuman – fucking Martin Luther King, Jr. held about aaaall of us females, –– why, Daddee Herry had easily, readily –– and happily –– passed woman – loathing and his concerted DEhumanization of well over half of the World’s populations anywhere on … to all of the sons. And, most especially, Model Parent Edinsmaier, relying upon for his “excuse” to do so the Truemaier Boys’ and his most entitled of “cultural” speech freedoms, could voluminously secure as he so desired to procure for his own addicted neediness then, more and more and more pornography, “Stupid – Ass Heifer, now doncha’ be a – messin’ with my and m’boys’ First Amendment Right, You Whore!”

Exactly the very escape from accountability –– this paternal – filial pornography – ‘sharing’ camaraderie is –– as the alcoholic father who purposefully places himself in situations in order to be able to drink with his kiddo. And jokingly but yet loudly terms it to them and to all the World as … “bonding” –– instead of as the addiction it actually is! “How can ya’ come between a man and his dad when they’re just out enjoyin’ a coupla’ brews together at the ballpark, Bitch?” Pops gets what he wants, doesn’t he, Jury? More and more and more booze. And the adult child? Why, the kid also gets what Bucko – Pappy –– and Attorney Jazzy Jinx some time back had counseled that Slacker – Slick Daddee –– always wants: Father as the picture – perfect “parent who just likes to have some fun, ya’ know. To show ‘his good, good buddy’ a mighty fine time, that’s all!” But it –– the sham –– is soooo not all –– at all, is it, Jury?

The one child likely most influenced by the twisted yet so commonly “accepted” recesses of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier’s deviance was the one child actually with his mama the least amount of time –– Mirzah.

If the quarrel had been about print pornography or videotape pornography run and viewed upon my condominium’s VCR machine or if I had come across other formats of woman – loathing, then I certainly can see where I would have acted on the “my house / my rules” declaration. I had explained –– repeatedly and try to do so to this day –– how the production and consumption of pornography by any person is the purposeful and intentional harm and destruction and loathing of female human beings –– 53 percent of and, therefore, the majority of the entire Earth. A DEhumanization with proportions not equaled by any other matter in the whole wide World; but I was with Mirzah, and, therefore, to date his maternally parental influencer, … the least amount within his lifetime.

And Herry? Herry, as husband and as ex – spouse, has plied his addiction and purposefully involved his minor children with it in quite the silenced and secretive way that that alcoholic daddee carries on with his hooch, “The more my sons drink with me, the more I can, too!” Whether that juicing jag takes place at home or in bars, in cars or during a day at the beach. Anywhere. “The more my kids use porn and think it fun, humorous and entertainment, then the more of it my brain gets to have?! Well, that’s just A – okay, too! After all, we’re bonding! Me an’ m’boys! Father and son –– we’re buds! Jus’ engagin’ in a … ‘bonding’ … activity together, for chris’sake, Twat!”

When those 12 issues of Playboy had, regular as the moon’s cycles, crept into his Othello Drive bachelor – pad starter castle under the subscription Daddee – Herry had corrected for nine – year – old Zane Truemaier’s ordering of it and all four of its household’s males had retired together to King Herod’s den with any one of the particular, newly arrived issues of it … “to check on the Boys’ development,” Mirzah and Mirzah’s brain had been only six years old. When the separation and divorce was pending and Addicted Herry, right straightaway, ‘chose’ Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive with whom to start keeping company, it was Mirzah, barely seven and eight years of age, whom Herry took with him when he went to buy for her a gem – studded condom and a “hormones are raging” greeting card. All three Truemaier Boys were present during a mandatory visitation (Of course! Of course, these sojourning soirées were androcentrically and sperm – exaltingly … daddee – mandatory!) with Herry when Daddee Dearest, smirkingly I am sure, told Ms. McLive a three ducks’ anuses’ joke inside a booth at a Fatlantic café –– that particular tarriance of the Wooing and Courting King Herod’s having been the Boys’ –– any of my three Truemaier Boys’ –– very first time meeting The Other Snide Person who in such short order was to become their … so, so unwilling to – step – back – from and to – step – out – of – the – Real – Mama – position’s step – mother.

And through the years, there had been more. So much, much more. The Boys had been inundated when they were still in and then, even more frequently, just passed the primary grades and going, going, going, … then finally altogether … gone from me. Gone –– Zane, Jesse and Mirzah –– from me, their mama.

All crimes, of course. Every instance a crime. All of it criminal and perpetrated by one abusing, violent and violating man, their own biological father, that Great and Wonderful Healer, Dr. Herod Edinsmaier.

With Mirzah always then the youngest –– both in terms of the Daddee Herry – “approved” and – facilitated exposure to and use of pornography and of a child’s perception with regard to the whole and utterly complete disappearance so fashioned and brought about by that same father of the kiddo’s own mother –– there came into existence then the altogether determined wiping – out, the absolute erasure and deletion of a so inconveniently protecting mama who would have tried, had she physically been around, to put a stop to Daddee – Herry’s (and, generationally, to Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier’s) insidious inculcation and passing on of woman – hating to her children, all of them happening to be, of course, in Dr. Legion True’s case, … male children. That is, the World’s women’s worth of at least three of its very next generation of marrying and / or fathering and / or ancestoring … men.

Right in line soooo Catholic Edinsmaier’s christianizing of my three Sons is –– exactly as had been the schooling of Ms. Soraya Manutchehri’s two eldest boys (out of her nine – born children in 14 years’ time … rather precise shades, not so Jury? Anyone? of Juggern Aut’s perpetual poking of Detanimod … ) by the woman’s sharia “law” – spewing Sperm Donor, Ghorban – Ali Manutchehri. Wanting to mawwy another much, much younger DEhuman, a teenaged schoolgirl actually, and to support only one wife, Mr. Manutchehri, the mama’s two oldest sons and her very own father –– in full and hooting view of the entire town and right alongside all of those ‘educated’ males of ‘The Court’ which had just condemned Ms. Soraya, falsely accused of infidelity but such for that specific daddee … The Inconvenient Wife so by its islamic “law” on “these matters” so, so easily manmade now “no longer a human being” –– “freely” set about murdering her, this suddenly made Non Human, by hurling stones aimed in 1986, right at and striking her head, throat and thorax until this battered, eviscerated and unrecognizable corpse of a cur –– “That Bitch!” –– she, the mother, altogether stopped breathing. Gutted. Made gone … she. In and out with ‘The Court’ ’s ruling on the woman in about a dusty and bloodied hour’s time –– is all.

In an’ out –– literally, –– in and altogether out of life –– in about an hour!

‘Member, Jury, how it is that Dr. Herod Edinsmaier had, as well, wanted quite dead ... Dr. Legion True? Only difference? Offing the True Twat himself –– in this christianizingly patriarchal country –– may have cost him his doctoring position and, thus, his money. So Daddee – Herry –– as have as well so many, many spousal daddees including Ghorban – Ali – Daddee –– simply “used” the most willing men of ‘The Court’ … ‘alone’ … to kill her off. Apparently … “quite constitutional” –– and within aaaaall of their very, very manmade / “We tell ourselves thus and so –– cuz we, DaMen, sooooo can” ‘laws,’ too!

It would be no wonderment to me at all that a clash which the now nearly 16 – year – old Mirzah and I evidently had had … may have centered around something woman – loathing such as pornography. Mirzah had plenty of friends, of course, as agreeable, as kind and as amiable as he always, always appeared to me to be with other guys his own age. But it was also true that for almost seven preteen and adolescent years’ worth I had not a physical clue –– I hadn’t been (allowed !!! to be) around him since he was nine! –– about his dealings, about Mirzah’s … comings, goings, thinkings and doings … with that same age group of girls. And I do recall, with both Jesse and Mirzah back in Ames and Jesse’s so recent threat of alcohol toxicity, having laid down some parameters about the perimeter of 6143 Havencourt, one of which –– for a fact I know, –– would have been that no pornography of any kind exist on those premises for any reason nor possessed under its roof by anybody.

That summer of 1995, in Ames the Truemaier Boys and I certainly had had no home computer and, therefore, no easy internet access. The passageway, that is, to web – based pornography. It was not until the next February’s Leap Day as I cleaned out the Havencourt condominium in my preparations for altogether leaving behind our Teacup subdivision that I came across, wedged down behind what had been Mirzah’s mattress, a computer – produced ‘business card’ done up on cardstock – quality paper and sized appropriately to any general ones which I have ever seen. On white in simple, black – inked font were the words, “Your Friendly Neighborhood Ho Service. Dial 666 – 5678 for a really, really good time. ––– Signed, Mirzah and Matt, Pimps. Confidentiality GUARANTEED.”

By 5 o’clock that hot and humid August afternoon, Mirzah and Jesse –– again … viciously made no longer Iowans –– vanished.

The yellow truck pulled away; and with its doing so, I remember most … Herry’s smirkface. I also know that the pillared Dr. Edinsmaier took away with him more, however, –– that aprovechar of his again! –– … more that late afternoon than my two Truemaier Boys.

As I had scurried around the condominium, to its three bedrooms upstairs and down to the basement, rounding up every bit of clothing and equipment and treasures I guessed –– in my concurrent and profound sorrow! –– that the two Boys would want with them when back in West Virginia, my one – vehicle garage went … … ‘unguarded.’

And, a couple of days later, when I needed that pliers? The one in the vessel resting upon Mirzah’s wooden changing dais painted bronze with its so easy – to – clean Formica tabletop, the sturdiest ever with baby supplies’ drawers built in underneath, the table which AmTaham True had, just 16 years earlier, constructed from leftover scraps of remodeling materials when he first learned I had become pregnant for the third time and Mirzah’s Grandpa had not wanted his Legion’s backbone to ache anymore from my repeatedly crouching down on the floor multiple times a day to change his grandbambino’s diapers!

Well, my pliers? All of my tools had gone missing, too suddenly, as suddenly and at exactly when as had Jesse and Mirzah! Including the galvanized metal, standard – sized toolbox in which Grandpa AmTaham had collected them all for me, the general genre of receptacle which any respectable repairperson owns!

                                                  * * * *

This man was not done with that particular day’s worth of taking. Still. Of Herry Edinsmaier’s taking away from Legion True. With my Boys’ taking and with my tools’ taking, the man still had more –– much, much more of aprovechar –– on His Agenda to accomplish.

Here I had been left thinking that the Good and Wonderful Healer had swung my two Boys right out onto Interstate – 35 and was spiriting them out of Iowa as fast as that Ryder could possibly sprint, the entrance to that freeway merely a half a mile from the one to our Havencourt Drive! But I was wrong on this assumption!

Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, Mirzah and Jesse Truemaier –– my Boys –– and his Ryder took a wide, wide detour –––– one so wide its width matched that of my mouth’s gaping. And of both Grace’s and Lynda’s, too!

What bulk, what mass of unmitigated effrontery, insolent entitlement and flippant, filliping arrogance the entire bunkum of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier is –– especially when it comes to us … DEhumans. Lynda Kincaid lived approximately five miles from me on Havencourt –– through some of the most tangled web of streets and tortuous thoroughfares Ames possesses, particularly … at rush hour. It was to her home’s INTERIOR that Corrupt Herry Edinsmaier’s entitlement and arrogance –– his taking –– next appeared. And it did so … right away within that very same hour as when he had pilfered way away from me … both my two Kiddos and all of my several tools.

“I can’t believe it,” I gasped. “You have to be kidding, Woman. Are you sure, Lynda?!”

I am still incredulous as I am thinking on it right now. All –– absolutely all –– of my girlfriends remain so to this day … as well. It was a stunning performance by Herod Edinsmaier. Positively utterly staggering.

We –– my friends and I –– we were never “used” to his taking, to Pillared Father’s Rightster Herry’s snatching up of my Boys whenever and wherever the time and the venue seemed to suit him; but we women, at the least, knew that So Predictable Herod Edinsmaier was entirely capable of this androcentric egregiousness, this patriarchal cruelty. We just never expected, although so very well – trained all of us should have been by now! we just never expected Exalted Sperm Donor Edinsmaier’s next fucking flagrancy. Let alone, so very, very mother – fuckingly soon! Within this very same –– “in – ‘nd – out – in – about – an” –– hour! that “Fuck you, Bitches” – hour!

“O, JYeah, Legion, I am sure!” Lynda Kincaid exploded. “They’re gone. They’re all gone. The guns. They are gone from the basement, Legion. Every last one of ‘em. Outta there! All of them! Taken.”

Months later, Jesse himself confirmed this home – invasion crime for all of us women: That Herry had actually driven up and out of his own gettin’ – outta – the – Gutted – Bitch’s – town route is one thing in and of itself. But Dr. Herod Edinsmaier had done so … for forbidden guns that he did not even own. –– And never had!

As soon as Absconder Edinsmaier pulled his rented transport, UNconstitutionally yet domineeringly –– and criminally –– loaded up both with Legion True’s two younger Boys and all of Legion’s garaged toolbox’s contents, out of my driveway and back on to Havencourt’s street headed, I had so incorrectly presumed, immediately on out to the interstate’s entrance quite proximally nearby and bound, yet again, through those same five states on back to Grubtrop, West Virginia, I had telephoned Lynda at her National Animal Disease Center desk. She had been the first friend to know –– to know of daMan’s same – style abduction … yet again! And … yet again! … of another of Legion’s ripping heartbreaks. Lynda left work to come to my side straightaway and, after cups of late – afternoon, hot sage tea and as much head – banging truisms together about our passions and our struggles as could be emotionally borne, had driven not back to work since it was now eventide but directly on over to her own home on Douglas Avenue.

I had not asked her to –– to do so; Friend Lynda Kincaid had thought all on her own to check. She told me on her commute on over to her street, a revelation had come in to her brain, “This is Herod Edinsmaier Legion’s dealing with. Of course, he just might do this. He just might! I’d better check the shelves downstairs. Just in case.”

My telephone rang not more than 20 minutes after Lynda had exited my condominium’s front door.

These were all of the guns given over to Jesse after … after … the divorce and, more importantly, given over to him by his Grandpa AmTaham but … but … but with one huge caveat: Given over from Grandpa AmTaham to Jesse by way of me, … first. That is to say, Jesse’s grandfather had made crystal clear to Jesse that his mother’s rules ruled … first! First and foremost. “Only when Legion says you may, can you have any access for any reason, for hunting or for target practice that is, at all, Jesse! You must obey your mother on this, Jesse. Verstehen? Verstehen, Young Man? I mean it. Do you understand me, Jesse?”

AmTaham True, as a matter of fact for years before this date of 22 August 1995, and when quite the Cinqué – of – the – Amistad style Ancestor – in – Training, that is, when the man was alive, and for years before Jesse’s freshest – ever 17th year (since his latest 15 August birthday had just passed) had tried and tried and tried to have all three Boys understand that the ownership and the use of any gun was far, far unlike the ownership and the use of any other item which the Boys would ever, ever possess.

Grandpa AmTaham had instructed all three Boys that at no time in their teen years’ development of “a relationship” between themselves and their firearms were any of the guns and / or their ammunitions to be brought out of safekeeping and handled by, or even just shown to, anyone else. As one may a new volleyball or a new bicycle or how it is a kiddo gifted with a used, let alone a new, vehicle might take her or his friends for a spin in it, for that matter. Developing an adult mindset circa the ownership and the use of firearms, AmTaham True taught, was akin to the learning of no other lesson. And all –– absolutely all –– of one’s minor years when she or he is still a teenager are to be determinedly spent up in the maturation of this relationship between the person and the owned firearm. By the time the person becomes 18 years of age, a parent or a grandparent –– and no other adult, that is –– needs to have instilled in this child enough then: enough protecting wisdom on this firearms’ ownership matter. AmTaham had stated, as had Dr. Powell during the several hunter safety session hours which Jesse and Zane had both enthusiastically, and some time ago by then, attended in Storm County, that the properly licensed parents and grandparents held entire and utter accountability in this endeavor because at no time did any other adult in the kiddos’ lives –––– not their Uncle Mark, not Daddee’s Pal Kevin home on his university’s semester break, not High School Voc Ag or Shop Teacher Dick, –––– actually care about the muzzles’ locations and the emptied or filled status of the guns’ chambers … as much as … does the children’s own –– properly licensed –– parents or grandparents.

                                                               * * * *

“And now … most importantly, … Jury, for the FLIP / REVERSE clincher on this specific Tuesday’s events: What woman do you know, Folks, can get clean, slick away with entering in to, home invasion – style … thus, with the criminality of it all, her ex – husband’s friend’s home –––– and abscond with daMan’s owned property, with all of his guns there for example, being stored inside his pal’s premises? Huh, Jury? Name one woman for me, please, –– anywhere in the Whole World –– who can get away –– clean, slick away –– with this act? One woman who can, in addition, TAKE with her inside this ex – husband’s friend’s home … her very own daughter, too?! Take the teenaged daughter criminally inside the residence, too, to serve as mama’s accomplice and as mother’s carrier – of – Daddee’s – guns back out to the truck parked outside?! With this mother – modeled ‘Fuck you, Bastards’ action of Mama’s and have back on herself for her having done these several crimes absolutely NO consequence whatsoever, Jury?! Name one woman anywhere who can do these very same deeds as Herry Edinsmaier’s, please. One.”

Because that is what Narcissist and Passive – Aggressor Herod Edinsmaier who “is above the law because he tells his pillared self –– and my three Truemaier Boys –– that they all are!” … did! And then, and by now well in to the 21st Century, daMan is known to have gotten his modeling self and my Boy Jesse –– with my Boy Mirzah serving as lookout sentry inside the truck’s cab … clean, slick away with it. Ex – Husband Herry took, aprovechar – style and criminally, whilst demonstrating for both of my teenaged sons then, how it is that men, just whenever and wherever they wanna, … can … simply take from women. From multiple women. “Because He Can.”

We all know this, do we not, Jury? Because he can. “These are mere women, conscious these two happen to be and not anesthetized,” Corrupt Herry reckoned, “but females, none the less. How utterly UNimportant … DEhumans are! And to her Boys, Jesse and Mirzah, as well! I will demonstrate these very same thinkings and doings, these comings and goings about women to them, too! And absolutely looooove doing so!”

Noooo different. The very same this is as … the two, elder boys who ‘helped’ their daddee, Ghorban – Ali Manutchehri, murder stoned – to – death Soraya, their very own –– and siblings’ –– birthing mama. Not a human being … she; their laws so state, the laws the men themselves “make” –– particularly as any of these, on the whole of them all, pertain in any way to us DEhumans’ general slutlery. Remember, Jury, that so common Arab maxim regarding the insatiability of graves, deserts and, of course, all … cunts? The males? The men and the boys? They are … The Human Beings. And … The Only Human Beings.

Just exactly how UNimportant is … specifically … the one DEhuman, Dr. True? Whose first name, Legion, is never to be Edinsmaier – uttered?! –– Ever?!

Consider –– yet again! –– that I had admonished us all, hadn’t I Jury, from deeeeep within Chapter 28, to be certain to so nota bene the following phraseology out of Herry – Daddee’s 02 July 1994, quite queer letter – thingy mailed to me?! That grammatically incorrect missive, displaying its stupendously stupid sentence structure, which had been sent to me, the woman whom all of DaMen of ‘the Court’, an American court –– it needs to be marked, remarked and so, so … well – remembered, an American court! –– had ascribed as the Crazed and Whoring Mother –––– yet, as well, to whom Herry – Daddee, that flouncing and professedly accountable father!, suddenly and right then so very, very soon after Jesse’s release from hospitalization at the Blue Hazelnut Ridge, had decided to entrust to lovingly and correctly shepherd one minor teen, Jesse, with as well in such a short, short span of time thereafter another, second one, Mirzah?!

“#8. Should … any matter arise … which we cannot settle under the terms of this agreement, … we both agree … to immediately return to the present arrangement as set forth by the existing divorce decree with modifications,” yada, yada, yada and so forth.” Signed, “Sincerely, Herod Edinsmaier” …

Only it is most clear, isn’t it Jury, that i) from Mirzah’s one wee, apparently whining telephone call back to Daddee – Herry when the Evil – Mother Monster quite torqued him off some –– “she pissed off daMan” (as with Ms. Soraya’s sons, Mirzah equaling this particular male this particular time) and ii) from Jesse’s desiring for himself Legion True’s guns back in West Virginian woods, it is most clear, isn’t it, that none –– utterly none–– of Proviso #8 had to its “declaration” any “sincerity” or any Truth … WHATSOEVER?!

Because it did not have to. Whether inside a courtroom with daMen’s status as “under oath” there or with their promising or their avowing –– or even with their “evidence” – and witness – wowing there! True it is. O, so head – bangingly true it is: Depending upon who you are, it is easier to lie to and deceive anyone inside an American civil court of law and get clean, slick away with it than it is to lie to and deceive one’s own mom and dad. It is easier to lie to and deceive an American civil court of law, which, we all know from long back within Chapter Eight, is a judge or nearly an entire state’s district and appellate court system’s worth of them! –– circa 23 or so of them! than it is to lie to and deceive your own minister, your own teacher, your boss and co – workers, your spouse or even all three of your own children. It is, mind you, easier to get clean, slick away with lying to and deceiving an American civil court judge about anything, depending, of course, upon who you are, than it is to lie to and deceive yourself, Corrupt Herry!

Or outside of one. Outside courtrooms. As with Liar Herry’s mid – 1994 letter to me regarding “our both agreeing” if “any matter arises.” “Heh. Heh. Heh, Woman!” I am yet again! reminding my own brainy self. “These are men making ‘the rules’, the ‘laws.’ And no amount of, no accounting of Flip / Reverse as to how these same men would feel or as to how the humans would like the trashing and the smashing, the utter mucking up of their Constitutional rights to, O say, … breathing … if the DEhumans’ mother – fucking –– if, O say, father – fucking –– is visited down upon them … matters … squat at all to them!”

"I ask, Jury, only one thing about the aprovechar – absconsion of my Boys and of my tools and guns, about this home – invasion crime, on all of this one particular day’s worth of mother – fucking –––– all of it perped by Hosing Herry, the Pillared Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, against Lynda Kincaid and against me, Dr. Legion True, as well as against all three of my Truemaier Boys, … … the fucking outrage?! Where is the OUTRAGE?!" "   

--- Chapter 29 - excerpt of pp 502 - 505 from Mother - Fucking, the Saga of One Fucked Mother

21 December 2016

Merry Winter Solstice ! w/ a "watering schedule"

a "watering schedule" for a family in solitude and,
fortunately for them all,
soooo OFF OF
society's and its judicial system's
GRID of INJUSTICES !



I nota bene:  "training in 60 minutes" cuz
if I am not prepared, then "you're dead !"


13 December 2016

We did. " ... ... We said no."

ON one's STAT to do - list = right after America's Election Day y2016 = now, that is:  
     Write down, now, a list of everything you believe in !  
     
     CUZ I tell you:  A Year From Now ?  
     You will either NOT believe in these things anymore OR 
     you will BE FORCED to state that you do not believe in them anymore !
i) “Half of our country has declared these things acceptable, noble, American. and, 
most especially as this Election's result personally resonates with me:  its gazillions of PARALLELS with my own last 2½ decades no longer legally (per the American family law courts) mawwied to the Pussy - Namer who, for all of those years since, has quite literally $-bought off-$ his Pussy - Posse of all of the daughters - in - law, the stepdaughters and the step - granddaughters as well as The Next Cunt in his Stash = ~at, its very least, the eight of these dependently insecure, needy and stupid women (as of the ones who voted for this past Election's result) inside the Pussy - Namer's Posse ! = thus of 
ii) Grief always laments what might have been, the future we were robbed of, the tomorrow that we won’t get to see, and that is what we walk through today.  As a nation we had an opportunity to affirm the beauty of our diversity this day, to choose ideas over sound bytes, to let everyone know they had a place at the table, to be the beacon of goodness and decency we imagine that we are—and we said no.

We NEED to believe Mr Pavlovitz's stuff that needs to be said cuz =
the normalization of Donald Trump et al is ragingly coming next. 

OF Mr John Pavlovitz right away on Wednesday, 09 November 2016, and Thursday, 10 November 2016,
 and http://johnpavlovitz.com/2016/11/10/white-christians-who-voted-for-donald-trump-fix-this-now


     Here’s Why We Grieve Today


I don’t think you understand us right now.
I think you think this is about politics. 
I think you believe this is all just sour grapes; the crocodile tears of the losing locker room with the scoreboard going against us at the buzzer.
I can only tell you that you’re wrong. This is not about losing an election.This isn’t about not winning a contest. This is about two very different ways of seeing the world.
Hillary spoke about a diverse America; one where religion or skin color or sexual orientation or place of birth aren’t liabilities or deficiencies or moral defects. Her campaign was one of inclusion and connection and interdependency. It was about building bridges and breaking ceilings. It was about going high. 
Trump imagined a very selective America; one that is largely white and straight and Christian, and the voting verified this. Donald Trump has never made any assertions otherwise. He ran a campaign of fear and exclusion and isolation—and that’s the vision of the world those who voted for him have endorsed.
They have aligned with the wall-builder and the professed p*ssy-grabber, and they have co-signed his body of work, regardless of the reasons they give for their vote:
Every horrible thing Donald Trump ever said about women or Muslims or people of color has now been validated.
Every profanity-laced press conference and every call to bully protestors and every ignorant diatribe has been endorsed.
Every piece of anti-LGBTQ legislation Mike Pence has championed has been signed-off on.
Half of our country has declared these things acceptable, noble, American. 
This is the disconnect and the source of our grief today. It isn’t a political defeat that we’re lamenting, it’s a defeat for Humanity.
We’re not angry that our candidate lost. We’re angry because our candidate’s losing means this country will be less safe, less kind, and less available to a huge segment of its population, and that’s just the truth.
Those who have always felt vulnerable are now left more so. Those whose voices have been silenced will be further quieted. Those who always felt marginalized will be pushed further to the periphery. Those who feared they were seen as inferior now have confirmation in actual percentages.
Those things have essentially been campaign promises of Donald Trump, and so many of our fellow citizens have said this is what they want too.  
This has never been about politics.
This is not about one candidate over the other.

It’s not about one’s ideas over another’s.
It is not blue vs. red.
It’s not her emails vs. his bad language.
It’s not her dishonesty vs. his 
indecency.
It’s about overt racism and hostility toward minorities.
It’s about religion being weaponized.
It’s about crassness and vulgarity and disregard for women.
It’s about a barricaded, militarized, bully nation.
It’s about an unapologetic, open-faced ugliness.
And it is not only that these things have been ratified by our nation that grieve us; all this hatred, fear, racism, bigotry, and intolerance—it’s knowing that these things have been amen-ed by our neighbors, our families, our friends, those we work with and worship alongside. That is the most horrific thing of all. We now know how close this is.
It feels like living in enemy territory being here now, and there’s no way around that. We wake up today in a home we no longer recognize. We are grieving the loss of a place we used to love but no longer do. This may be America today but it is not the America we believe in or recognize or want.
This is not about a difference of political opinion, as that’s far too small to mourn over. It’s about a fundamental difference in how we view the worth of all people—not just those who look or talk or think or vote the way we do.
Grief always laments what might have been, the future we were robbed of, the tomorrow that we won’t get to see, and that is what we walk through today. As a nation we had an opportunity to affirm the beauty of our diversity this day, to choose ideas over sound bytes, to let everyone know they had a place at the table, to be the beacon of goodness and decency we imagine that we are—and we said no.