02 October 2016

YET another Sunday, 02 October: "But pornography tells the truth about men."

For pillared men who comport themselves exactly as do any courts' judges, it is the easiest thing ever TO LIE in family law court ... ... depending upon who you are. 

That is, countenancing himself as the judges themselves do, the man needs in the community to be pillared, ya' know: he needs to actually be a physician, a professor, a lawyer, a councilman, a teacher, a priest, a banker or loan officer, a policeman, a columnist, a corporate executive, an investigative journalist 60 Minutes' style - like. Or, the best ? Another ... ... judge himself !

Mr John Stoltenberg of the Pose Workshop for Men https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Stoltenberg 
is credited with the quote: 

"Pornography tells lies 
about women. 
But pornography tells the truth 
about men."[11]

The Good and Wonderful 
Dr Herod Edinsmaier's  
y1965 blue, spiral notebook 
with on its cover  
the Creighton University emblem; full up of names with their threatening descriptions
of ♀s degraded and dehumanized ... ... = in the Alec R Cook of Edina, Minnesota's - style of such a damnable notebook

I was REFUSED its Discovery @ court; but, hey, this contempt by the Pillar ?
 A - OK w/ all o'those pornography - consuming judges.

from University of Texas ... Professor Robert Jensen of https://www.againstpornography.org/crueledge.html

i) "When a female student has a meeting about a research project with a male college professor who the night before was watching “Gag Factor #10,” who is she to him? What is she to him? 

ii) When a woman walks into a bank to apply for a loan from a male loan officer who the night before was watching “Two in the Seat #3,” what is he thinking?
and me during child custody versus this pillared patriarch, Dr Herod Edinsmaier, over three children and six years of going before 24 other patriarchal judges who were --- ALL OF THEM --- men ! iii)
When a woman goes in front of a male judge who the night before was watching “Sopornos #4,” does she want to throw herself on the mercy of the court?"


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“Says here, Dr. True, that you have a lot of degrees.  What about that?  What’s the story with that?  Why are you applying to be a secretary?  Maybe you won’t be staying very long?  Would I have that about right?” asked a very tall, lissome man wearing the Malcolm X – browline and FBI agent Carl Hanratty – style of eyeglasses which Actor Tom Hanks modeled in Catch Me If You Can and who appeared to be about my age.  He stretched out his right hand to me and identified himself as Dr. Joplin presently then Chair of Iowa State University’s Forestry Department.  I had already taken to the woman, also my age, perhaps up to a decade older it was hard to tell, who was Dr. Joplin’s chief administrative assistant when she remarked how nice it was to see me liveried for a job interview in the chocolate browns of the UPS uniform, the one I was to entirely relinquish later on that very night, –– instead of, of course, in the ‘standard’ two – piece navy wool with matching pumps.  She genuinely meant it.  

I looked at Dr. Joplin; I looked over at his assistant, Ms. Rosalind Franklin.  I looked down at the floor.  

To be honest –– which I so wanted to be with these two people –– I needed another byte about the size of this book and the time that that would take … to explain the mother – fucking.  And just how matters such as one, that is, how matters such as a mother – fucking, result in DEhumans like me darkening their doorstep seeking employment.  Long – term employment, as a matter of fact, and a situation that came with belovéd benefits, too!  It did strike me though –– Dr. Joplin’s very initial questioning –– as sooo, so different than what would have been Dr. Herod Edinsmaier’s dissing at such as would be my introduction in this type of conversation.  Hell, Herry would not have believed me to even own those degrees!  I would have been –– right off! –– accused of lying on my résumé –– –– as he himself does –– to this day! –– on his own!  Fuck!  Herry would sooo not have addressed me by any name, let alone, by a titled one in accordance with correct, professionally respectful etiquette!

I answered him, “Dr. Joplin, it’s the Forestry Department.  The Forestry Department.  You and everyone here, I am certain that every day you’re here, you do … worthy … work.  And my degrees?  About my education?  Dr. Joplin, I use my education … every day.”

I don’t know what it was that got me the job.  Were they inundated under mountains of work?  Had they been strapped and hard – pressed for weeks to months trying to find someone?  Was I the first one off the top of the pile and out of the gate?  Was I to pay back for all of the trees I’d personally felt accountable for killing over at the junk mail factory?  Was Ms. Phillipa Chance’s guiding and generous spirit invisibly orchestrating from an office corner?  Or was hiring me only a case of Winter Solstice and seasonal charity? Well, because of –– whatever, thus began … again … for my first time since graduating there, 6½ months’ pregnant with Jesse as I was conferred the doctorate in veterinary medicine, that is, the DVM degree May 1978, a simple relationship with Iowa State University that works today.  The start date was set for the Monday morning of 06 January 1992.  I could get through the next two weeks without turkey and pie nor certainly any decorated cookies or New Year’s bubbly, for that matter.  After all … I, Dr. Legion True, had secured a truly worthy job, only ¾ – time, 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. then and only the nine academic – year months without the summer income at all –– –– but a job, nonetheless, with, again, the promise of permanency! … And since American civil court judges soooo do not count mothering as a job whatsoever at all, then … according to daMan, the first genuine –– paying –– one since Kansas.            

As I left the Biology Building’s second floor and hurried right back up to the Mall trailer to there finish out the  24th with the United Parcel Service before ending the season and the year of 1991, for that matter, as Save – U – More’s 6 a.m. breakfast cook that upcoming weekend, a holocaustic and terrorizing scene from the Othello Drive’s pornography den returned to my mind’s eye.  From that walnut – walled playroom with the walnut, console piano, the space Herry’d said that had, in addition to the gymnasium – sized picture window to the Brookside Forest in its living room, caused him to buy the house from his newest alcoholics anonymous idiot – pal, Cornball –– without my input.  Dr. Herod Edinsmaier had brought back to me the Truemaier Boys after first retrieving Mirzah, Jesse and Zane from their weekend at AmTaham’s and Mehitable’s.  It was a Sunday evening, 02 October 1988; and strapped within their seatbelts and, thus, captured and inescapably imprisoned in this way on Interstate – 80 while traveling back, Still – Husband Herry, alone, had told the Boys that he was divorcing me –– and before telling me he was divorcing me!  Inside that den, then, he proceeded to –– while the Boys witnessed from their hallway glances through its doorframe.  Horrid Herry blathered forth with yet another … exhibition. 

Still – Husband Herry picked up an object that just happened to be sitting on the top – down, built – in escritoire, a stainless steel teaspoon which had been left lying there by who knows who.  Herry held it between his thumb and left index finger and, with the last three fingers slightly crooked, began swinging the spoon back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, it swaying in front of my eyes in that procedural – like   hypnotizing pendulum mode as The Sperm Donor of MY three Truemaier Boys sneered at me, “I don’t have my ‘doctor – doctor wife’ any more, my ornament to dangle in front of my family and friends.  You’re nothing now.  You’re nothin’ but a regular, old housewife nowYou’re nothing.

This … from the good and wonderful man who was later to tell several different judges several different times how it was that he, even at this point in his life, had had ten years of alcoholics anonymous ‘recovery’! 

This … from the man who was later to tell several different judges several different times how it was that he, at the time he married Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive on 02 June 1990, a most incredible shrew and even more like Mehitable than I could’ve ever imagined possible in another, that he, at the point when he married her, had had 13 years of alcoholics anonymous ‘recovery’! 

This?  From a ‘recovering’, much less, ‘recovered’ … man?  From one who still did not speak my name ––not even to tell me that he was divorcing the “nothing,” the “regular, old housewife” … behind that name!
What would this ‘recovered’ man, admittedly snide and licentiously elitist, who had not only completely hidden my children from their mother but had also spirited them halfway away across the nation into an aristocratic milquetoast’s and his termagant’s territory think about one Legion True, BSN, DVM, PhD and present Deli Grill Queen – Secretary? 
Never one to have been a human doing instead of a DEhuman being, it will take far, far more than a spoon, Herry’s sneering and those standard snide remarks of his in front of my babies to humiliate me now.  Detail – and precision – oriented person that I am, I was thrilled –– and proud –– to be worthily working for the University; and since from my Latin of previous years’ education I already knew the root of the occupation and its title, I just knew then, too, that I’d make one helluva damn mighty fine, secret – keeping secretary.   

This ‘recovered’ man’s slung – at – me snidery?  Classically, such … says a colossally passel more about Swill – Spewing Herry than it will ever accurately describe any of The Sexist Pig’s cuntable liaisons, much less me, Dr. Legion True, Secretary!  

--- excerpt, Chapter 28, pp 326 - 328:
Mother - Fucking's Book Three:  We Were Mothers Once, And Young

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