24 December 2015

Yet one more 24 December: the Man's, of course

* * * *

Early Spring 1988 arrived. Its Vernal Equinox was followed in just a greening month’s time by its Earth Day. One of those other people was about to enter my life, a woman this one was, by the simple name of Li Zhang, a name which probably, right now, labels nearly a million or more people in the World – both women and men alike. That’s a point. This not keeping my little self within, literally now, my very own homeland protected from other people can arise from so many, many angles that these unsafe people might as well all have the same name and I not be able to tell them apart. They’re so alike in several ways, the least of which, of course, are their own names. I, to this day, have never met this woman face to face. She was lodging one particular March day and night at the Knickerbocker Hotel in Chicago and, while conferencing there, was apparently victimized by theft of some valuable stuff of hers I was told, a camera or a purse or a microscope. Something like that.

There’d been a medical meeting. I believe the umpteenth medical meeting in my and the Truemaier Boys’ lives. When Herry left Othello Drive for it, I was only given the same ol’, same ol’ as I had been so passively and so wickedly told at the outset of all of the rest of the local and statewide medical meetings or national, cross – country trips Herry had taken and attended before this 1988 one. That being, at a minimum, two per year for 11 years so not umpteen of them but, as a matter of fact, about 22 or 23 for certain by now, “Where am I going to be? You don’t need to know that, now do you really? Do ya’? If an emergency came up, well, … well, you’d have to go on and handle it by yourself alone anyhow, now wouldn’t ya’, Cunt? Well, wouldn’t ya’?!”

“Yeah. Yeah, Herry, I suppose so.”

“Well, then. I’m off.”

And that was it. Gone. No kiss. And no telephone number. At where to try to get a hold of him.

Hell, Herod Edinsmaier wouldn’t even know himself the first names nor the last ones of the vast majority of our babysitters, let alone, their home telephone numbers around the towns where we lived; that is, the Boys’ surrogate caregivers – when their primary one wasn’t I, that person never being he. In case when he telephoned home to say that his plane had arrived to wherever safely and we four were unavailable or out when he called, then Dr. Edinsmaier could ring up one of them instead with the message that he was okay and ask them to get it back to us. We didn’t always have an answering machine in those days. Then Herry could go on about his medical business meeting there knowing that we, his loving family back in his homeland, were reassured about his safe arrival and subsequent sojourning, too.

Shit! For what did I just the fuck go and write that down? He never called back to say that. No, he never, ever did. Not one time did Dr. Herod Edinsmaier even try to telephone back home or to anyone else near our several, various homes – nannies, neighbors, my friends – to say anything like that at all: that he was safe. Much less, to find out … if we were!

What am I thinking?! Herry never even locked the homeland doors before himself retiring to bed at night. Actually outwardly stating to me that that was too much work to do, that he was too tired and that it wouldn’t matter anyhow: if someone really wanted to get inside and do us all in, why then they’d find a way to get that done – with us all locked in or not.

So. I, every single night of the 12½ years which he, according to mother – fucking society and according to himself, headed up and was socially credited as its bloomin’ lord and master with keeping safe our household, locked all of our homes’ doors myself. If they were going to be secured at all, then it was up to me – – no matter how tired I may have been, too. No matter that. That little itty bitty thing. No matter that it was every single night. The man, he is especial. He is, ya’ know, so off to bed he goes whenever, however. Don’t you be expecting him to do any of the work of protecting and of keeping safe you, let alone, his and your kids, by his having to do the work of remembering to and then actually getting up off of his ass and going to the ridiculously stupid effort of locking the family home’s mother – fucking doors.

Fuck, Dr. Edinsmaier gets to sleep right through anesthetized and unconscious women’s (that’s plural!) scheduled breast biopsies without actually losing anything, like ya’ know, his job, let alone, his medical license! Why shouldn’t I be thinking that Herry would also get to sleep right through basic home security, too?!

“Fuck!” I used to think every single time but dare never state to Herry for fear of his upbraiding and dressing down, “Mirzah could be dead, Herry! Mirzah could be stone – cold dead – and … and Jesse and Zane and I have him buried already! And you would never even know to care to be back in town in time from any of your bloody fucking meetings to kiss him good – bye. We could actually do that! We could actually bury for you … all absolutely all of your blesséd children for all you knew and cared! Many times over we could actually have done this! For all that you cared.”

But silenced I kept. Every single trip. Herry always had at his ready that standard, pat ‘question – answer’ sprinkled with those little extra loving terms of endearment for departing from me, “Well, Bitch, you’d have to handle it now yourself alone anyhow, wouldn’t ya’?!, Well now, wouldn’t ya’?” That common genre of question that Dr. Herod Edinsmaier had himself, often, already concretely – hard and cold as concrete stone – answered ... as he was allegedly mouthing its querying words. Same type of already answered question as when Herry from those darkened halves of the bed simply took for himself from behind those any – time – of – night, rocks – off quickies which he unloaded up my anus.

Same as everywhere else we lived. If I truly did need to know the name of the hotel, its phone number for guest information, the name of the meeting, the length of the meeting, the brand of flight or the route driven or, well, let’s just say if I needed to know squat I would, now 22 or 23 times, have had to call up Dr. Edinsmaier’s colleagues’ spouses and ask from them all of this information. “Gosh, Ms. Goldstein, ah, Ella, do you know the name of the hotel where Dr. Goldstein, ah, where Freddie, is going to be? And they’re taking what flight? And, … ah, ‘nd they’re expected back, ah, when exactly now? Gosh. Thanks an awful lot. So sorry to’ve been a bother to you about this.”

Never, in 22 or 23 times, was there even the illusion to me that if shit happened to any one of us four, Herry’d be like, “Whoa, Darling, I’m there! I’m on the next flight there! Just hang on, Love! Hug the babes and keep your eyes and your arms open. I’m almost there!” Never. Not one mother – fucking time. Ever. O, wait a sec! It did too! Several times this happened. But always in Another World … in my Fantasy World.

Just like Herry never once rang up my folks living very near to Iowa City to ask them if his most belovéd wife and his most belovéd children had made it there to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s okay. Not one time. Ever. When all four of us – alone and always, always without Herry – traveled to Mehitable’s and AmTaham’s for any kind of those 12½ years’ worth of vacations or holidays or just simple, ordinary visits.

It took one hour to slide across slithery Columbia one christmas eve the ice and the wind were so bad. And it was now, on its northernmost slope, dark – time treacherous.

A normal trip to Williamsburg in great weather and with good roads? Six hours. Three little itty bitty kids all lined up in the back in their respective car seats and their mama. Christmas eve and an hour to navigate what normally took a mere 10 minutes. I pulled into the last gas station before leaving the City and rang up mom. To hear Mehitable’s response, you’d’ve thought our not coming for christmas that year was going to bring down the Fires of Hell onto all the little girls’ and all the little boys’ christmases all over the World. “It’s noooot that bad out. The reports here are not what you say. You’re always exaggerating. You don’t know. What’s Herry say? I just know it’s not that bad. You’re overreacting again. Just take it slow. What’s Herry say? You’ve talked to Herry, right? What’s he say? The Boys’ll be sooooo disappointed. How can you take this away from them? Herry wouldn’t. You know he wouldn’t. You know he wouldn’t say no to them. You know that. He wouldn’t sooooo disappoint them like you’re goin’ to.” Mehitable, of course, didn’t right out loud on the telephone say Bitch! Or Stupid! Or Stupid Ass Heifer! Or You Don’t Have a Brain of Your Own! But. She did.

Herry didn’t even look up when we walked back in the door.

At least and, of course so alone the next morning on christmas day, I thanked myself, “We didn’t go. I stood alone. We did not go. I did not try to move – with my babies, with my babies’ breaths – one mother – fucking inch further. Merci. Merci. Danke very much!”

That particular 24 December evening I probably saved all of our lives and the lives of folks we don’t even know and will never know. Another one of those life – altering events that night. Gone wholly unnoticed and unheralded. Except by a mother fucked. I had only myself to give me gratitude. Which is exactly how Herry would have it. What I am thinking now is, “How many, many fucked mothers just like me were also trying to do that, that is, trying to do the impossible that night and every holiday eve before and since? The World over? How many?” Because I certainly know why they are. And why they and their babies die when they do try to accomplish the impossible. The insanely and stupidly impossible dicta of allegedly powerful and controlling others.

* * * *
Mother - Fucking:
Chapter 14, "Husbandry and Homeland Security," pp 81 - 83

IN the midst o'th' FIRST WAVE: today

Some few FULL MOONS ago this day, actually 119 YEARS' worth of 'em ago ... ... on this date, 24 December 1896, an itty bitty and wee bambina, eventually to be(come) my Daddy's quite widely and always blackly brim - wearing mama and my own darling grandmama, made to this World her very first appearance:  Ms Adeline Baack --- ---

22 December 2015

The WHOLE WORLD OVER: ---------------------- ... ... the message is CLEAR !

"Deck The Gals With Neon Duct Tape: Photographer Declares “FINALLY, Peace On Earth” 

BY silencing ONLY the human beings in the photograph who are the female ones ... ... with green even:  with GREEN neon tape for the holidays. 

THE WHOLE WORLD OVER: "The message is clear.  The women have had their mouths forcibly closed, and their hands tied.  Finally, father and son know peace! No annoying women can be heard, and they can’t move either.  Toss ‘em in a closet and you don’t even have to see them.  Such bliss !"  

The littlest, a boy child, is not bound and gagged for the photograph.  No, he is placed in a prime position for subjugation, standing, triumphant, for smirking right next to his equally free father ... ... whilst Mama is tied up and duct - taped as well as the two "worthless" children who are the female ones.     

* * * * *   
FINALLY, the EVIDENCE from a loooong and long / HUGE research study
   ... ... for what I have loooong and long believed:  vaginal exams are wholly UNnecessary !


"A new study published in the Annals of Internal Medicine reports that there is NO ESTABLISHED MEDICAL JUSTIFICATION for the annual procedure. After scouring nearly 70 years of pelvic exam studies, conducted from 1946 to 2014, the researchers found NO EVIDENCE that they lead to any reduction in 'morbidity or mortality of any condition' among women !"                         

"MODERN" Medicine & Doctors:  "Keep Her SILENT !"

Soooo M E R R Y  WINTER SOLSTICE to ALL ... ... !             

06 December 2015

06 December and 02 October 2015

06 December 1989

The women were killed because and only because 
they were human beings who were all of one common characteristic:  
they were human beings ... ... female.
The man hated women.
Not unlike very many men do and have.
For millennia.
Not because of religions.  Not because of ideologies.
Just because of an accident of birth:  
Because female.

École Polytechnique massacre
Mtl dec6 plaque.jpg
Plaque at École Polytechnique commemorating victims of the massacre
Montreal, Quebec, Canada
December 6, 1989
5:10–5:30 p.m.
Female students at École Polytechnique de Montréal
Attack type
School shooting, mass murder, murder-suicide, hate crime
15 (including the perpetrator)
Non-fatal injuries
Marc Lépine

Antifeminism, possible abuse

02 October 2006

West Nickel Mines School shooting 



October 2, 2006

c. 10:25 a.m.–c. 11:07 a.m. 


Female students at West Nickel Mines School 

Attack type 

School shooting, hostage taking, murder–suicide, mass murder 

Springfield XD 9 mm handgun 
Browning BPS 12 gauge pump-action shotgun 
Ruger M77 .30-06 bolt action rifle 


6 (incl perp) ie, 10 girls shot w 5 kiddos killed & 5 > kiddos wounded
ALL females. 

Non-fatal injuries 


01 December 2015

IN LOVING MEMORY of Dr Howard, Serologist, Kansas: gone y1987

IN LOVING MEMORY of Dr Howard, Serologist, Kansas:
gone y1987, 
World AIDS Day  y2015

from lovely S C I E N C E and reported to us by
the United States government @

“the NIH Statement on World AIDS Day 2015:  

Follow the Science to Fast – Track the End of AIDS

“Research supported by the National Institutes of Health has provided solid scientific data showing that once an HIV – infected person has been diagnosed and connected with medical care, immediate antiretroviral therapy should be initiated. Taken together, the findings from the NIH – funded SMART study reported in 2006, the HPTN 052 study in 2011 and the START study earlier this year conclusively demonstrate that starting ART promptly after HIV diagnosis protects the health of the infected person while preventing HIV transmission to uninfected sexual partners.”

23 October 2015

" Settle Down ... ... "


" ... ... at the hair on my shoulders and the age in my eyes ... ...
... ... more time with m'back to The Wall ... ... "

22 October 2015

. Mama: You WILL lose .

[My advice?  IF you are female and IF you have minor children, 
THEN DO whatever you have to DO 
to STAY with the .EXALTED. Sperm Source until those kiddos are 18 ... ... 
Stay OUT of the USA - courts. Mama:  You WILL LOSE.  
I do not care one whit that you, Mama, that you yourself
actually .grew. your own children IN to the very first selves that they are.
You, Mama?  You according to the judges' decisionings ?   
You are nothing but a crazy and a whore and a liar.  
You WILL LOSE.  ---Blue]
The Great American Custody Wars
by Phyllis Chesler
22 October 2015
I have been battling the Great American Custody Wars ever since the mid-1970s. I could not believe what was happening to mothers then—and when I broke the news, in the 1980s, few people believed me.

The prevailing myths were that women had an unfair advantage in custody battles and that men were discriminated against. This was not true then and it is not true today.

People also believed that only unfit mothers lost custody and that only very fit fathers obtained it. Mainly, the opposite is true.

No one believed that courts actually enabled or legalized incest or removed children from very competent mothers and gave them to exceptionally violent fathers—and then savagely restricted a mother's access to them.

Today, even I have a hard time accepting the fact that things have gotten worse.

Permit me to suggest that you read the 2011 updated and expanded edition of Mothers on Trial: The Battle for Children and Custody, which I originally published in January of 1986. I was savaged in the media, attacked by Fathers Rights groups—and embraced by a multitude of mothers. I organized a series of press conferences, interviews, and unprecedented Speak-Outs on the subject. Popular television programs featured the subject—but little changed.

Therefore, I urge you to read Domestic Violence, Abuse, and Child Custody: Legal Strategies and Policy Issues, edited by Dr. Mo Therese Hannah and Barry Goldstein and just published this week.

I warmly welcome this book. It is an amazing and important work about custody battles in America and features the words of very brave, utterly uncompromising, and dedicated scholars and activists. Dr. Mo Hannah and attorney Barry Goldstein have been pioneer advocates for mothers under siege, especially battered mothers, and even more so for those whose children are being sexually abused by their (custodial) fathers or alienated from the mothers who try to protect them.

Hannah and Goldstein—and all the author–lawyers, author–judges, and author– psychologists—offer devastating and accurate critiques of the system from within which confirm in every way the moving stories of "protective" mothers, children, and their advocates.

The subject is "dark," in the sense that these tragedies are compounded by how the legal system enables them and fails to rescue the most vulnerable children and women from the clutches of evil.

Although I welcome this book, its appearance also causes me some anguish. Surely, by now, one might have expected some progress, some amelioration of the enormous suffering that mothers and children (and sometimes fathers) experience in America.
While some things have improved (for gay parents, perhaps for wealthy couples where money actually exists to be apportioned), many things have actually gotten worse.

This precious book, edited by Hannah and Goldstein, confirms this worsening spiral and describes the gut-wrenching trench warfare that very good mothers must endure in order to fight to save their children. It is a fight that is very hard to win.
One chapter focuses on court-enabled child murders—cases in which judges awarded custody of children to fathers who then proceeded to murder them.

The situation is a scandal. But this book is also written by heroes, by those who risk everything for the sake of truth-telling and who pursue true justice. The stories here are extraordinary: Read Jennifer Collins, a former child "underground," whose mother, Holly Ann Collins, was granted political asylum in the Netherlands based on America's refusal to protect Holly and her children from domestic violence.

Know that Dr. Mo Hannah, who founded the Battered Mothers Custody Conference, is also a hero in that she turned her own long-lasting custody battle into a life work on behalf of women caught up in the clutches of expensive and/or incompetent lawyering; vindictive ex-husbands; and misogynistic guardians ad litem, mental health professionals, and judges—a system that is Dickensian in terms of pace.

Full disclosure: I wrote a brief Foreword to this excellent volume and was one of the four activists whom Dr. Hannah interviewed in her closing chapter.

Child Custody Evaluations: Reevaluating the Evaluators | research on family law politics and child custody = unfrickin'believably silly and absurd "evaluations" against perfectly fit, fine and protective mothers ALWAYS will result in monstrous and violent Sperm Sources winning custody of her children inside family "law" courtrooms. the statement above = found on thelizlibrary.org               Child Custody Evaluations: Reevaluating the Evaluators | research on family law politics and child custody = unfrickin'believably silly and absurd "evaluations" against perfectly fit, fine and protective mothers ALWAYS will result in monstrous and violent Sperm Sources winning custody of her children inside family "law" courtrooms.                         

16 October 2015

Yet again: one more "renowned" "scientist" of the Big I C K FACTOR !

Astronomer Geoffrey Marcy, shown here at a scientific conference in 2015, resigned Wednesday from his faculty position at the University of California, Berkeley.
Astronomer Geoffrey Marcy = http://tinyurl.com/okgpxmu


Embedded image permalink

What Geoffrey Marcy did was abominable. What didn’t do was worse.  
Michael Eisen @mbeisen Oct 14  
First they came for the sexual abusers, and I did not speak out -- Because they're a fucking plague.


And from UC - Berkeley's Dr Ellen Simms on the huge and so - not - hidden muck:  "because none of those cases will ever see the light of day. There is no truth and reconciliation commission, no workable mechanism to undo the past damage.

We remain angry about those forever unpunished transgressions; we’re furious and sad for those who lost their way when they were tossed aside by the great professors or when, too late, they realized the inequity of their situation and had to leave their chosen field and drop out of school, abandoning their life’s dreams. We’re angry at how the papering over of these transgressions belittles us and our importance in the enterprises to which we have dedicated our lives."


13 October 2015

! " the Opprobrious Eight Pages' T R U T H " !

Of this guy ?  From this man ?  This one ?  He is the same old man who crawls up into the bed and eyeballs and sniffs at the chest belonging to his 20s – something, gravida 1 just para 1 daughter – in – law who, there in that same bed right then, is herself not only still bleeding from birthing but is also now bared and breastfeeding her newborn infant daughter.  Sniffing DEhumans this smirking and snide man … … as in the same manner as is mounted by those Islamist terrorists of Nigeria’s Boko Haram.  Or as is contorted by bulls' snouts inside pastures full up of cows' vulvae.  Or as with lactopornography.  That man.

Man and woman breastfeeding baby

from Mother - Fucking's:  Chapter Twenty Seven  pp 279 - 282
An Opera in Three Acts – But with Five Parts
Acts One and Two: Parts One, Two and Three
“ ‘The body of a woman is filthy, and not a vessel for the law.’ --- Buddha.
‘Three things are insatiable –– the desert, the grave and a woman’s cunt.’ --- Arab Proverb.
When man made himself God, he made woman less than human.
‘A woman is never truly her own master,’
argued Luther. ‘God formed her body to belong to a man, to have and to rear children.’
In the grand design of the monotheistic male, 
woman was no more than a machine to make babies for him,
with neither the need nor the right to be anything else:
‘Let them bear children till they die of it.’ Luther advised. ‘That is what they are for.’
--- Prophetess Dr. Rosalind Miles in Chapter Five entitled 
The Sins of the Mothers
of her Scripture, The Women’s History of the World
verse – page 102.

! " the Opprobrious Eight Pages' T R U T H " ! 
= as IN the same manner as Nixon's Z I L C H Memo 
= scrawled in noxious Nixon's very own 1972 handwriting !
= the E X P O S I N G PROOF of ALL of Herry - Daddee's LIES

"""What follows is from Herry’s own script scribbled down onto pages taken from a Pfizer drug rep’s freebie doxycycline hyclate pad left from time to time around the laboratory of the Good and Wonderful Doctor, that is, from out of Dr Herod Edinsmaier’s own hand!  Verbatim! and In Toto!  [except for the bracketed phrases which are my only added comments]:

Fears and Resentment of Legion: 
Fears of Legion.

Fears of other people learning the truth about me. 

Afraid that I am a sex / love / romance addict.

Told Fannie about Murielle / Celeste, animals.  – Affects my self – esteem.  [Legion told, that is; the Good and Wonderful Doctor certainly did not reveal any of his proclivities for incest and bestiality to Ms. Fannie!]

Threatens to beat me in court.  – Affects my self – esteem.

Calls my place a pigpen.

Sends me books and letters.

Legion’s criticism / opinion of me gets into my mind and it is like I hear her and feel unsure of myself or guilty as if I have done something wrong.  E.g., I think what time would she put the kids to bed?  Would
she feed them better than I would?  Am I really a sex / love addict?  Am I really obsessed to the point that
I would endanger the kids?  Am I abandoning the kids?  I fear I am not a responsible parent.  I fear I am not a responsible pathologist.  I am abandoned by the boys.  I will have to live alone without a loving wife.

What I have been doing?
Calling long distance [to Fannie] when I feel down.  Writing many cards and long letters, love letters – but at work.  Saying I am in love, that I love her.  Invited her to Hawaii [medical meeting].  Almost invited her to Minnesota [lakeside with the Boys after their Quaker camp].  Talking of permanence but all we have in common is religion, Irish Catholic mothers with that training especially about sex and high school experience but what did we talk about in high school?  Talked of someone from back then and how it was wrong for me to go after her; if I was so attached to Fannie, then why would I go for her?  I said because I wondered if it would happen again.  Maybe there was nothing at all wrong with my dating her.  Maybe there was nothing at all wrong with her dating my brother, Atwater.  Telling her [Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive] about possibility of moving, changing jobs.  Paying attention to Mary Jane.  Talking of how hard this next year will be. 

What I am promising or advertising:
1) love 2) a hurt that Fannie can fix 3) a father for her daughter 4) acceptance of her appearance / desire for her body 5) “help” with parenting 6) more money / more room / bigger house

Fannie seems to offer:
1) someone who loves me without criticism or reservation 2) a child who chooses to be with me and who is affectionate 3) a home where someone lives; a place to come home to 4) economic security = that old woman friend of hers’ inheritance [ ! ! ! ] 5) emotional security; someone I can love, trust and confide in; outlet for my affection, emotions 6) safety from Legion’s criticism 7) refuge from job and parental responsibilities      [ ! ! ! ] 8) chance to realize and relive a 26 – year – old fantasy [ ! ! ! ] 9) chance to be young and carefree again [ ! ! ! ] 10) driving to Kansas six hours each way 11) making love to her 12) asking about her tubal  13) sending her pictures of me and the boys

What I have done with Mary Jane:
1) told her I like Fannie 2) sent her cards signed ‘love Herry’ 3) paid attention to her, baseball, swimming, pool, bowling 4) returned her hugs 5) gave her advice like I tell my boys 6) bought her gifts 7) openly expressed affection for Fannie 8) ?acted like Dad? 

What she has done / said:
1) she is in love with me 2) I was the first and only one she was in love with 3) she vowed to be abstinent until she were with someone to whom she felt spiritually / emotionally intimate – like me 4) told me about her older, adopted daughter, about being attacked [ ! ! ! ] 5) sent me cards / letters 6) visited me in Ames – her suggestion; it surprised me but I immediately accepted 7) sent me books to read, tapes to listen to 8) told me about her tubal, stapling, medifast [ ! ! ! ] 9) told me she could become certified in Iowa 10) told me in six years she would be ready to quit teaching and work at McDonald’s and she didn’t care where the burger joint was located  

My history with Legion:
Had ideas about her roommates but never gave any sign [ ! ! !  … JYeah, that is what Herry, of course, wanted to believe:  that I did not know!  But … I knew!  I always knew that he had had “ideas” about my roommates!  All women I know … know this!]  Trying to be a grad student but spending my time frivolously drinking and talking to friends, taking some courses, accepted to med school for Fall ’75.  Worked in lab and had hots for new tech in Bio 101.  Continued living in trailer.  I really thought I might die.  I got sick with Loeffler’s syndrome.  Unable to work in lab or elsewhere.  Spent week at the Iowa City sanitarium and got better; came back to drive batch truck and drop out of grad school.  I thought I would call it off when I went to Iowa City.  I did not expect to marry Legion.  Entered med school.  Went out, girls and booze.  Often lonely; wanted to be as successful with girls as my friend was.  I did not feel committed to Legion but didn’t send her away either.  She came down at Thanksgiving for the weekend; she got pregnant.  I don’t recall ever going to Ames to visit her there.  My birthday she told me she was pregnant.  I spent my weekends with other girls though; best I’d ever had.  Getting by in med school ‘working under half steam.’  Felt isolated from other med students; blamed it on difference in my age from them.  I WANTED ABORTION;  EASY FOR ME TO GET HER ONE at the med school.  Legion’d rejected it outright.  Knew she would; she’d always been for choice but it was her choice she’d always said to keep any baby she’d ever came up pregnant with.  [ ! ! !   ! ! !   ! ! ! Herry wanted Zane ABORTED!  Very usual abuser thinking!  Like it is ever the man’s choice!]  AmTaham came to Iowa City, called me selfish and made threats of what sounded like he was going to try to obtain custody of the baby.  He asked if my parents knew.  I said I would tell them when we knew what we would do.  He replied that if I had not told them in one week, he would.  I contacted student legal services; said there’d be no way he could get custody as long as Legion didn’t consent.  Continued med school.  Rented trailer to friend.  Discussed how a new baby could be managed; Legion couldn’t do it and stay in school.  Dean said I could leave and get back in in a year if I wanted; was subject to any changes in the curriculum was all.  We moved into Pammel Court in Ames; I got work at the factory.  I enjoyed my life and work.  We had lots of sex.”

Back to myself I spat, “Herry!  ‘After you?  Coming after you?!’  How you!  How so narcissistically right on the mark of you, Herry!  It was never about … you.  Never you, Dr. Edinsmaier.  Nor your fucking money.  Not that and not your status.  It was never, fucking ever about you, Herry.  It was about the Boys.  And, yeah.  Yeah, you’re right all right!  And so was Mirzah when he told Mz. CherryBabe Canard.  I would be a – comin’ after them, and I still will! It was never, ‘You call, O He Who Must Be Obeyed, and I do your bidding,’ Herry.  I have the Truth.  Just try.  Just try and hold us mothers back!  ‘Young and carefree again?’  Whaaa’, Herry?  “Carefree again”?!  With three boys and a couple of stepchildren?  Carefree?!  Yeah, riiiight.  Refuge from job and parental responsibilities?’  Well, fuuuuck that!  That’s not even to mention the ‘attack’, or ‘Murielle, Celeste and the animals’, Herry!  You write that you gave “no sign” about my roommates, Herry?  You fool.  You fucking, narcissistic fool, Herry!  I always knew.  We women who are roommates?  We always know!  But … I am a fucked fool … nevertheless!  ‘Fool me twice, shame on me’ – fool!  That kinda’ fool!  Was that that you ‘thought’ you might die when I nursed you for three months’ time back from that pulmonary parasitism’s brink –– or that you ‘wished’ you might die!  Sons, you have no mother!  Mother, you have no sons!’ ???   Uh – uh.  No.  No.  Don’t even go there.  Ya’ got one thing gone straight at least though, Herry:  what you were to me!  ‘There.  Goes.  My.  Sex.  Object.’  But you, Herry?  You take my babies?  Well, you’re in for it then.  Just try.  Just try to hold this ‘girl’ back!  You take my Boys away from me?!  What did you expect?!  What did you expect?!  I wouldn’t notice?! … I’ma gonna NOTICE!  I am!     I am a direct descendant of AmTaham True and, as he had been when at once breathing, am myself a Righteous Ancestor – in – Training!  I.   Am.  Going.  To.  Notice!

Another piece of ‘testimonial evidence’ … another FACT, O He Who Is THE So Great and Wonderful Doctor Herod Edinsmaier!  ONE LAST FACT here, O He Who Is, in veridicality, THE Mother – Fucker:   You demanded of me … Zane’s ABORTION, You Terrorist!  MY BODY.  MY CHILD.  MY CHOICE. 

And what you never –– THEN –– acknowledged, Terrorist Herry:  IF I had aborted Zane, THEN … THEN … there NEVER, EVER EITHER would have existed a Jesse or a Mirzah!  IF I had had Zane aborted, THEN we
–– you and I –– would not have had either the same subsequent unions nor any such future liaison whatsoever at all.  THUS, NO JESSE.  THUS, NO MIRZAH.  Yet you, Abortion – Commander Herod Edinsmaier, you have held onto –– all of this time –– you have possessed and ordered it up, although no longer “legal,” certainly not “constitutional” and NEVER MORAL … the entire World’s “RULE of PATRIARCHAL LAW” at your whimsy, ‘SONS, YOU HAVE NO MOTHER!  MOTHER, YOU HAVE NO SONS!’ ”

The truck pulled up, a Ryder 24 – footer even!  And into its back end on Saturday, 13 October 1990, around about 11:30 am went one bicycle.  Nothing else.  Nothing else had my 14 – , 12 – or 10 – year – old ready, packed or, most importantly, the desire to put into Daddee – Herry’s (literally) mother – fucking truck. 

AmTaham True, with every centimeter of his brain, blood and flesh the Cinque – “only reason I ever was …  is … for Legion now” – physique, stood statuesque and in complete view of us all at the west window to the side of my king bed, its curtains purposefully this time pulled completely back and him poised there in his full ancestral force and regalia watching over me.  Two of his precious progeny climbed into the cab; I let go of Mirzah, and he belted himself up into the backseat of Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive’s red Baretta which had been following her Herry everywhere that daMan led. 

“We’ll see allya’all back here in just a little bit.  I promise,” and I smiled and waved.  Off the Good and Wonderful Doctor spirited this True mother’s three Sons.  They were gone from my sight around the corner at the top of Havencourt in less than a minute’s time.  I went back inside to Zephyr, Rex and Lady, their tomkitty, serpentine kingsnake and zebra finch, all three of the Boys’ pets never in the custody of … and, most assuredly, never the work of actually loving and caring for them wanted by … Herry the Daddee.

*     *     *    *

Come to find out, Herry had no job anymore either.  Not here in Ames he didn’t.  He had vacated his and Ms. Fannie McLive’s apartment complex in Ames’ west section and moved her and Mary Jane once again. Down to a two – level bungalow on 69th in Urbandale, a northwest suburb of Des Moines, and 65 minutes of interstate driving time door to door from mine.  Apparently it was his ‘plan’ to practice pathology around that metro in a per diem, locum tenens capacity at various laboratories while all the while seeking permanency with an outfit that suited him.  Guess the White Law Firm outta Kansas City, the buckos who represented the legal concerns for the Downshim Pathology Laboratories and its branches, of which the Ames one had been, had had their full – up fill with Slacker Herry’s base and boorish bunkum –– his tardiness, his contrariness and Dr. Edinsmaier’s outright absence at inappropriate times –– as, er, with deeply anesthetized and, therefore, very unconscious women! –– and … shall we say, had “released” him.  Something else that never seemed to much matter to the High Aggrandizier although Judge Seizor did know, too, of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier’s work habits.  Or, rather, Herry – Daddee’s such dearth thereof! """