pp 215 - 224, Chapter 26 in Book Three: The Opera: We Were Mothers Once, And Young
“Okaaaay, Herry. Am I
about to rebut just nearly all of this “hard evidence” that are actually your
lies … or what! These four A, B, C, D
sections, Jury? Readers? These – all four of them – constitute the
crime of perjury, Jury!
Just, however, the first of many, many, many such, very same crimes
of it, specifically for perjury from Iowa Code, Chapter 720.2,
said chapter in general entitled,
“Interference with Judicial Process!”
I am trying not to laugh too hard here because it truly is
conflagrant to me. But I can’t help
it. This was choice. “O shit, Herry! Smooth.
Smooooth. Ms. Frumpy Custody
Evaluator Canard heard all of this smooooth, too, I am so certain. Jury?
Do you know the characteristics, even just a handful of them if not all
of ‘em, of the typical wife batterer?
That’s ‘batter’ as in the crime of battery. Well … one,
just one of them, is, and is as old as androcentrism itself is: throw
it aaaall back on her! Everything that
she says about me? Deny, deny, deny and particularly project it all back onto her
–– that of which she is trying to state about me. And, for sure, because it is a he – said /
she – said situation and she will not
be the one believed if it is smooth enough and particularly when it involves a
man and his spermary, a pillared one at that, why never, never, never admit
wrong or error or that what she says could be even remotely true. And, voila, you are home free, Mother -
Fucker! free! of her, I’m telling ya’.” That’s pretty much the characteristic …
also verbatim! right out of any women’s shelter handbook regarding batterers –
except for the last – sentence, name – for – daddee embellishment there: that one would be all mine … that the Good and Wonderful Doctor Herod
Edinsmaier is a literal Mother – Fucker!
But, otherwise, this is the researches’ and statistical
reality: fathers and their gametes are not to be messed with. Both are only
to be exalted. Sperm
exaltation. Father and fatherhood
exaltation.
I say, “O O O … kay then.
Just exactly who is coming out here from the courtroom or from after
examining the ‘sworn – to’ documents submitted to The Court’s files … coming
out here into this, The Real World, and bringing back to daJudge, bringing back
from it, The Real World that is, to Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor, the absolute
proof of the Truth of any of Herry’s muuuultiple avowals here, Jury? Readers?
Who? You? And, furthermore, do you care what
lies he’s told you and me? Do you? Does the judge? Really?
Really and actually does daJudge, Judge Seizor, the man who once “legally”
forced a first Mrs. Seizor into a certain prison way away from her very own
four baby daughters, truly care? It is
easier to lie to and to deceive in an American court of civil law than it is to
lie to and to deceive your … __you __ fill __ in __ the __ blank __, Jury. Of course, depending upon … well, you know
the rest of that sentence, too.”
I did not know it then, but I soooo know it now: Depending
upon who you are, it is easier to lie to and to deceive anyone inside an
American civil court of law and get away with it than it is to lie to and to
deceive one’s own mom and dad. It is
easier to lie to and to deceive an American civil court of law, which, we all
know, is a judge or a bunch of ‘em, than it is to lie to and to deceive your
own minister, your own teacher, your boss and co – workers, your spouse or even
your own child. It is, mind you, easier
to get clean, slick away with lying to and with deceiving an American civil
court judge about anything, depending,
of course, … depending upon who you are, than it is to lie to
and to deceive yourself!
What the most difficult about
rebuttal is … is doing it! Having to do it at all. Why should I have to? Why again and again and again do I have
to? Have to defend myself. Always, always,
always on the defensive throughout the entirety of The Opera. The whole mother – fucking thing. This? This I loathe. And have, now, long – pledged to myself never
–– never
… never … never –– to have to do to Herod Edinsmaier inside of any
format or venue whatsoever again. Not one
more time. To defend myself. No.
But to You the Jury? JYeah. No problem.
One more time again? This tome,
this volume? Nooooo problem. In fact:
Ratchet it on up, that very volume!
Bring it on!
Rebutting then begins, of course, right there within his,
the Petitioner’s, Affidavit section A, continues throughout aaaall of Liar
Edinsmaier’s four sections and finally
ends then with, tah – dah, Respondent’s Affidavit! That is, my
personal history affidavit notarized and dated 10 February 1989! Which weekday (of course!) date that horrid
year happened to be on a Friday.
So.
To begin then, “Wha’, Herry?
‘From 1968 through 1972’ you taught junior high, then suddenly back in
Ames you have, you swear, a grad
degree in cell biology also in
1972? But didn’t go to med school until
1975? That ain’t so at all, now is it,
Herry? No graduate degree #1, Herry –
zip, zilch on the master’s degree, right?!
That, well, along with all of your other procrastinations, well, … that
just never did happen ever, now did it, Hype – ing
Hypocrite Herry? No diploma ‘tall! Not even
in 1975, which is when you left graduate school after I literally lived with
and doctored you day and night, 24 /
7, back to life from a deathly parasitic pulmonary infestation from June 1975,
right through till nine days before medical school began in late August 1975,
when you were released from Oakdale Sanitarium outside Iowa City to where I’d
had Devin drive you at top, breakneck speeds two weeks earlier and he thought
those two harrowing hours in the car that you, coughing, gasping, cyanotic and
doubled over, … that you were going to die on him right there racing down the
interstate. Okaaay, now that that’s
straight, there’s more, isn’t there, Herry?!
How it is I literally saved that sacko’shit life of yours for you, isn’t there?!”
The tangible –– and
screaming –– absence of Herry’s master’s degree in cell biology, something
really, really easy to prove, well, did
anyone bother ever to bring back to Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor the actual
“evidence” of its existence?! Of its nonexistence?
! ! !
“In fact, the master’s degree’s nonexistence has, indeed, hasn’t it Hype –
ing Hypocrite Herry, just exactly the
same nonexistence to
it as that of a supposedly earned bachelor’s degree in physics ! ! ! which You,
the Good and Wonderful Doctor Edinsmaier, to this day in Grubtrop and in
Montclank, West Virginia, also claim to have, at one
time, merited and deservedly received ! ! ! – but in point of
actual fact, continue several decades later to pad thereby falsifying
your medical organizations’ and societies’ résumés with and there state (as
well as at these several agencies’ websites!) that you once obtained this alleged
physics degree at Iowa State University –– when you soooo never did do? !
! ! Ha!”
Of course, we already know the answer to that –– along with
all of the other NOT! answers to the very same question after every
written affidavit lie and almost all of them, if not all of them, most easily and equally ascertained as false
and, therefore, lies and – and – and, therefore too, … the
crime of perjury! Ya’ know,
the
crime detailed at Iowa Code, Chapter 720.2. IF only they had been. IF only that other pillar of the community
known as daJudge, Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor, had ordered up the tangible proof of … what it is … ‘he said’!
To continue I must just shake my head, “Herry, you of all
people: there is no University of Missouri –
Jefferson City at which you could’ve ever
taught, let alone, could have taught full – fucking – time! And moi?
‘… hired as Director’? As
‘director’ of anything? Sure, Mister, suuuuure
… just try to inflate my workplace post so that your monetary, support – to –
me amount will be judge – ordered down – down – down … down into the toilet! Bloat the fucking hell out of my –– actual ––
position before I came to Storm County
so that here in Ames with all of the veterinary installations here, I can soooo
make it without alimony, ‘can’t she,
Your Honor?’ I was in my first fucking fledgling
year after obtaining the PhD, and my title was nothing fucking more than that
of Assistant Professor –– as is
everyone’s in their very first year –– and you soooo knew that, the smart guy
that you are — with such a passel of quite like – titled siblings at various
times and the institutions you’ve been around, let alone … the little, itty –
bitty frickin’ fact that I was your
wife, for chris’sake, and wouldn’t you, therefore, know my precise professorial ranking because of just that spousal title
and association alone?!”
More. “Do you never
proofread squat, Dr. Herod Edinsmaier?
You know full fucking well that nothing is ever referred to as
‘veterinarian school’ and yet at least three, if not more, times you term it … exactly
that. How fucking dare you diminish the
naming of my educational endeavors when, with your own, you do not – ever – identify it as ‘doctor school’,
Herry! How fucking dare you continue
that dissing of me and of my successes … just because you always have before –
and in front of all three of my
children, too?!? How dare you?!? Children
whose birth date and, indeed, name you totally fucked up for Jesse and for whom
you could never, not one fucking time, get correctly spelled for Zane. What is up with that, Herry? That
is unforgivable from a blonde and bloodied secretary, let alone, when perpetrated
by a goddamn, mother – fucking father.
Children who were never even being considered to be living one damn day,
not to mention, ‘raised up’ in Kansas City!
What the fuck is up with that, too, Herry? We were never even ever going to live or to school the Boys in Kansas City! That never even fucking came up for discussion
between us one time! Ever!” What a friggin’ load of fuckcrock from Herod,
O He Who Hypes Himself Up!
Moving into Petitioner’s Affidavit section B with continued and further refutal of “sworn” – to “evidence.” “So,
Herry, you know me so well, huh? I’m
your fucking wife and you can write about me under oath to a judge –– cuz of
your wealth of knowledge on my background –– to a fucking courtroom judge, can
you? So if you know me that well, then
which was it that I was married to John Silver, two years or was it four
years? Cuz one is, well shit, So – Many
– College – Degrees – I – Actually – Never – Had Herry, you’re the
mathematician, one is fucking twice as long as the other one, now isn’t
it?! I mean one is 100 fucking percent more than the other one! So.
Which was it? Two years? Or, four years? And what were you reeeeally stating here,
Herry? Implying just exactly – er well,
not very exactly at all really – what, Herry?
What?! That I’m a bad risk in the
wifery category? Is that really what,
Herry? Since that so is about what you
were writing, then where –– also –– is the information to
Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor about your busted engagement to Theresa, the one she
broke off with you that landed your smashed ego inside Ms. Rebound Edwina’s bed
in Cleveland for a few years whilst simultaneously dodging Bass County, Iowa’s
draft board ticket to Viet Nam by teaching junior high school in an inner city
instead of being soooo draftable were you
to’ve taught in just an ordinary school, one, say, anywhere in Iowa?! Where’s the whole scoop on Ms. Theresa, Herry? Hell, I worked alongside her as an ISU
sophomore, same engineering department; we were hourly workstudies together. And, furthermore, you knew that I knew her because she and I’d met as student workers
there, and I told you this! So, Herry,
she must’ve seen in you a bad husbanding risk, huh, to cleave it off with you
and your upcoming nuptials back in the late 1960s?! But where’s that written and
sworn to, too, especially the part about how you wouldn’t ever consider
marrying Edwina, no way, no how, never, never, never !!! –– cuz she was, well,
what Herry? Cuz she was what, Racist
Herry?! Cuz she was your great black fuck, wasn’t she, O Pillared
One … O Doctor Edinsmaier?
And you told me you wouldn’t even take her home to meet your parents,
would you? Which, of course, you never
fucking did do, not even that one christmas eve when Edwina so wanted to come back to Iowa with you and
meet all of your family, you told
me. Not even the fuck then would you
bring her back to your kin, O Good
and Wonderful Doctor! Judge Seizor never
knew any of this about you though, did he?
daJudge never knew that you’re a sexist and racist, homophobic, whore –
mongering pig risk? as a spouse? in the
husbanding category? Did he?!” … As if it’d’ve
mattered to him anyhow … if he had known!
NOT!
Defend, defend, defend –– to which I am forced.
Or, as icky are Herry’s sugary and honey statements about
himself, especially about his fatherly fathering functioning. Those pieces are so funny to me now. Then, though, when I read them through the
first several times, I was made simply livid by them: the obvious blatancy at the puffed – up,
hyped – up chestiness of himself –– of himself as “accountable Daddy”– to Judge
Sol Wacotler Seizor.
Lumping these into Herry’s quoted phrases, his lies
about me of Section B, “Marital History,” are
i)
“suffered from severe reactive depression disorder,”
ii)
“the reason we got married,”
iii)
“she dealt with small animals,”
iv)
“her hours were from 8:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m.,”
v)
“so she could nurse them,”
vi)
“Legion then felt the job too stressful, so she quit
and began to babysit our children,”
vii)
“my salary as a resident was not enough for us to make
financial ends meet, so Legion became employed,”
viii)
“She worked the night round from noon until 10:00
p.m.”,
ix)
“We were forced to employ many different babysitters,”
x)
“In 1982, Legion expressed a desire to become a
teaching member … so she enrolled in the University of Missouri,”
xi)
“In June, 1986, Legion graduated,”
xii)
“Because I wanted her to pursue her career, I turned
down various jobs and opportunities,”
xiii)
“In 1987, Legion lost her job,”
xiv)
“Legion has remained unemployed since we left Manhattan,”
xv)
“I have made a commitment to my wife that we would stay
in Ames and the children would graduate from high school in Ames,”
xvi)
“since my wife Legion is unemployed.”
Sixteen – regarding me alone! Supposedly detailing the history of his
wedded union Herry’s Section B is – but – almost all about me. And about me … negatively! Elaboration on
just a few.
How does one nurse an already weaned child? Zane had already been weaned! He and Jesse did go to childcare providers
but separate ones; that was one of the reasons I left the house’s door at 7:00
in the morning with two babies to go
to a job that didn’t begin formally until 8 in a town only 13 miles away: so that
I could drop off a 2½ – year – old at one place with all that Zane needed and a
½ – year – old at a caretaker of infants, someone different, with all that Baby
Jesse needed. “And You, Herry?! You friggin’ slept in! You, O Slacker
and Entitled Sperm Donor, you slept in! Then on those same soooo cold, weekday
mornings wherein I had dealt with the two babies’ labors, you bundled up only yourself and left the house to go
mind – rape vaginal exam models in OB / GYN laboratory! How hard a daily working parenting routine that
must’ve been, huh, Daddee Herry?!” And –
and … I was on call every single day
and every single night for six months
straight; there was no one else to take call on both large and small animals, not just
small animals! “So, Herry, which of us
two arranged for regular childcare?
Which of us arranged for childcare on an emergent basis? Which of us arranged for childcare – at all?!?! Is this where you’re again going to project
onto yourself that which, really now Self – Centered Herry, that which we truly
both know I – and only I – ever, ever did –– since the fucking first time
Zane ever needed a sitter?!”
And about the ‘too stressful’ part and that I was a
‘babysitter’ for our own children? “What
the fuck is that, Parent Herry – Daddee?!
I fucking fell down on the cement floor.
Collapsed. Flattened my exploding
breasts right there in front of Miss Evelyn who was in to see me with a half a
dozen of her 42 cats! She’s the one who
fucking telephoned the UI Med School Dean’s office to ask them to go find you
in class somewhere and have you come collect the dropped corpse on the concrete
that was … me. She’s the one who stayed
with me until you got there. Completely
pissed off you were too, ‘member that?
You drove the fucking 13 miles in dead silence. You didn’t even ask me what I thought could
be wrong? Ya’ know, like say … exhaustion! Cuz you didn’t the fuck care what was wrong
with me, did you, Husband Herry? And –
and … you didn’t even go back to Solon to pick up Jesse or Zane from their
respective care providers after you’d dropped me off at the trailer! You
literal … Mother – Fucker. Straight
up.”
And as regards our financial ends meeting, did Herry write
daJudge about the fact that from $10 per salaried veterinarian hour, I would
after taxes, gasoline and childcare costs for three children under five years
of age ... I would … I would, winter – and holiday – time 1980, with Mirzah then
just 13 months old, Jesse not even 27 months old and Zane himself a mere four
years and two months old, I would only clear $2.75 per hour?!
! !
“I literally begged you, didn’t I, Herry? Over and over I begged you to borrow for us
the money to live on, to borrow from your wealthy, soooo wealthy some of them,
older brothers and sisters, from at least one or two or so of the four truly
wealthy ones of your ten other siblings, didn’t I, Herry, when we were in
Hershey?! Mirzah was only a year old,
Jesse 2 and Zane 4. And the one word that
I got back from you –– the
only one I got back from you –– about our borrowing from any one of these, your four siblings, was
what, Herry?! You remember. ‘Cept you soooo conveniently forgot to tell
Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor this. That
word, for my leaving my babies when I so did
not want to but you forced me
to instead of our temporarily borrowing from your family –– to clear a
measly $2.fucking 75 an hour –– was what Daddee Herry?
“solvent”
You said that $2.75 an hour was enough to keep us “solvent,”
didn’t you, You Mother – Fucker?! All just to save your fucking face in front of
your family. No matter what my little,
little Boys and I wanted. No fucking small,
small matter … that!”
This ‘we employ’ thing?
“I, it was I, wasn’t it Herry,
who did absolutely all of the
arranging for childcare? Never the fuck was
it ever you!” Never the fuck any sort of ‘we’ about ANY part of the 26 in – home childcare
provider – hires and six daycare facilities over 11 years’ worth, was there now
… was there a ‘we’ to doing any of
that childcare arranging! Truthfully, Herry?! Was
there?!
And the expression of desire to go to Missouri? This is juuuust choice this particular lie so
is! Herry brought this up, and he
fucking brought it up first! “Big reason
why, too, isn’t there, Herry? Why you so
desperately wanted to leave Pennsylvania and move to Missouri, isn’t there? –– Right
there in the very middle of your medical residency program?!? When hardly any such level of resident ever,
ever does that?!? Anywhere?!? There is a biiiig, big reason why you wanted that, isn’t there, Slacker
Herry? But how come, Herry, how come you
did not tell Judge Seizor how it was that Dr. Shark – your supervisor – at Hershey had repeatedly turned
you in to the Pathology Department administration on pink slip warnings?! For FUCKING UP AS A MEDICAL DOCTOR! ! ! Cuz of YOUR FUCKING POOR, POOR SLACKER
WORK HABITS. Cuz of your fuck – off work
habits and procrastinations every single day and not having your work done and
god knows what the fuck else! Like your
trouble with taking orders from other men, your passive aggression, your
narcissism and maybe they all knew about one – fucking – too – many of your
hospital coffee shop tête à têtes with all of your twatly lab techs! Didn’t they all? Didn’t Supervisor Shark?! He knew you to be an utter medical staffer
fuckup, didn’t he?!”
“All of those hours and hours and hours you frittered
away. Squandered, You Fucking Selfish Slacker,
so we soooo just ‘had to have a lot of babysitters?’ Fuck that, Herry. You needed
a lot of babysitters, both literally for your sons cuz you so were not there for them. And,
figuratively. Cuz Dr. Shark and the
other bosses couldn’t get you to willingly and cheerfully accept their
authority over you and get their assignments to you fucking done correctly and
in a timely manner! Now that
is the fucking Truth, and you didn’t think I knew and Judge Seizor
sure’s hell didn’t either, did he?! That
it was you who wanted to leave
Hershey because you couldn’t get along, and they were about to fucking fire you
right there in the fucking middle of your residency, something pretty much unheard of, huh?! That is why we left Hershey for Missouri –– instead of just my taking
graduate classes there! True that
is. O so head bangingly true it is. Straight up.”
And this? O, this
could so easily have been tangibly proved to a judge, too. Pink fucking slips evidentiarily scripted
down regarding Dr. Herod Edinsmaier all over the pink fucking Hershey Medical
Center personnel records’ landscape.
But, no –– never any such tangible proof did any judge see. Or, as a matter of lamentable fact, did any
judge care to see.
I graduate not in
June 1986! “In June 1986? In June 1986, Lying Herry, I am getting up at
4 am on every single Friday morning to drive four hours from Manhattan over to
Columbia to sleep on cushions on my grad student office floor and then drive
home Monday nights in June 1986, to be back to attend children before beginning my first assistant
professorship which did not start until July 1986. So no,
Herry, I marched and was hooded on 01 August 1986,
after two grueling summer months to finish totally and completely in
four fucking years flat – absolutely fricking all there was to an
entire PhD dissertation and degree program in Veterinary Microbiology which you
cannot even fucking spell correctly – something most persons, female
or male, with three babies under five years of age have no idea of even
starting, let alone, aren’t capable of finishing. But I did.
I did that, Herry, didn’t I? In
four fucking years flat I did it all! And, no … no, no, no. No, soooo nooooo, thanks for any of it to you.
You, if you did anything at all, Herry, you so hindered me. You so fucked with me, didn’t you?”
“Two more I’ll make the effort of which to explain the Truths. If I can get over laughing so hysterically
here. And those are the bloody ludicrous
and mucked – up statements you, Daddee Herry, ... that you made about being ‘unemployed’ when a mama – when a mama anywhere – has three little kids.
That one?! That one just fucking
stands alone, so stupid and loud it is, doesn’t it, Jury? Soooo stupid!
Soooo patriarchally stupid!”
And about Herry’s commitment to me and to the Truemaier Boys about us all staying in Ames for them to
graduate high school?! I guess really
the only explanation necessary here is this one: this is
the mother – fucking first time I’ve ever heard of such a commitment of Herry’s! In
this affidavit, that is! In other words,
Herry, there never was such an avowal
of yours for true, was there?! Never
before this affidavit! You fucking made
that one up! Just to snow daJudge! Gosh, on that one, too, I just cannot stop
laughing. Except for this reason. That here?
With this particular lie of yours, Herry? How could there be such hard – and – fast
proof to a judge that there ever really was or there wasn’t such a promise made
at all? It was never written down so, Yeah Jury, it’s
one example of the thousands and thousands and thousands all over Acts One, Two
and Three of a family civil court phenomenon known as ‘he – said / she – said’. We shall so read and hear many, many more of
these thousands!”
The lies of Section B about Herry’s involvement as a father
with his children are hilariously ridiculous, too. And, every fucked mother today 14 years out
from these of Herry’s, tells me she reads in her “sworn” divorce and custody
documents so such the very same ones.
And they get away with them. Nearly
all fathers do today, too. Fathers, any kind of them, are back to wresting
total custody away – that is, they are back to the taking of their perceived “ownership,” their self – directed, self
– centered aprovechar – their taking away from biological and other
mothers at a rate unparalleled for 75 – some odd years. But not since before about 1920, or 1930,
though. Except for the last seven
decades or so. In other words, at a rate
just the very precise same as that for the last 12 millennia. Lies like Herry’s, besides the maleness –
like – the – pillared – judge thing, are why, too.
i)
“Zena” instead of Zane throughout the entire affidavit,
not just Section B. For every instance
where Zane is named in Herry’s sworn affidavit, Zane’s alleged “father” doesn’t
get my
firstborn’s first name correct ever. Ever. What does that say? I mean, what
the fuck does that scream?!
ii)
“Jesse, born December 15, 1978,”
iii)
“From 1974 through 1978, we jointed shared in all child
care responsibilities with the exception of bathing and breastfeeding. I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, and changed
diapers. … the time demands required we equally share the child caring
responsibilities,”
iv)
“During the 1978-79 school year, I commuted back from
Iowa City to Ames every weekend,”
v)
regarding Hershey, “we needed a babysitter,”
vi)
“because Legion was working nights, I would get up in
the morning to care for the children and attend to their morning needs,”
vii)
“However, at night I cared for the children. At this stage of the boys’ lives, toilet
training became important. Because my
wife Legion is deaf in her left ear, when the children would get up in the
middle of the night, as they often did, they would come and wake me up and I
would tend to their toilet and other nightly needs,”
viii)
“I became quite involved in taking care of the children
during this period of time,”
ix)
“I played a primary role in deciding the choice of
school, and the age in which the children would enter school,”
x)
“I continue to hold their education part of their
wellbeing and my main concern in life,”
xi)
“I have done everything I could to help [Zena] accomplish
that [art] skill,”
xii)
“On Mondays, Fridays, and on the weekends, however, I
helped to those things. We employed no
babysitters on those days I was home,”
xiii)
“I still helped with all child rearing
responsibilities,”
xiv)
“I consider the children to be my primary
responsibility regardless of how tired I may be ... But my first commitment is to my kids … I
made a commitment to my children that we would stay in Ames and the children
would graduate from highschool in Ames.”
How many are these?
Fourteen? Just in The Lie
Department alone to daJudge, I – I, Legion True ... that’s Doctor Legion True, – I rate more lies about me from Herry than do even
all three kids! Well, that –– that right there must be something upon which to brag, not?!
But about them, those lies about the kids? Jesse?
Born 15 December? “Shit, Herry,
that means you up and fucked this mother that I so am right after, well, … probably
in the goddamn hospital delivery room, doesn’t it?! Like the vag exam models you were mind – raping
back in med school? Why do I say
that? Why? Well, do the frickin’ math, So – Many –
Degreed Herry. How in the hell, if you
didn’t fuck me right there and then after I’d immediately just bulldozed Jesse
out, then how in the hell did I go on to grow, also propel out and begin
lactating Mirzah in just nine months and two weeks later!?!”
“JYeah, I know you knew I, twice, twice in just that nearly identical four – year length of time, I
Legion was gestating and lactating at the very same goddamn time – twice!
Pregnant with Jesse and nursing Zane, then pregnant with Mirzah but yet still
nursing Jesse. Hence, the reason for the exhaustion collapse onto
the fucking Solon veterinary practice’s floor with Miss Evelyn, we come to find
out the next day when I – alone, of
course – visit my doctor, don’t
we, Herry? Don’t we?! You, Husband Herry, who did absolutely fucking
nothing as a spouse, let alone, as a scientist or as a physician about birth –
controlling! But, hey, even for me, being fucked and
impregnated right there on the delivery room table in order to shell out Mirzah
in just another nine months flat, ... even
for me!, that’s damn near mighty fuckin’ miraculous, Mormony Catholic Herry!
! !”
“So Jesse wasn’t
born on 15 December, was he, Herry, but exactly four months earlier than that, wasn’t he, Herry
– that is, on 15 August instead!? What another hoot! The so – called “father” of child #2 – and a
man of medicine at that – can’t even get Jesse’s fucking birthday, ah, er … that’s Jesse’s birthing day … correct! Yet I’m the one who went into that courtroom
the first and every time after Act One thinking … believing … that
this sort of thing would matter to Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor – about who
was primary in our lives and for whom were we each primary –– when
… it, so very clearly, never did matter! In just telling this – it becomes even more so
when considering all of your lies of how responsible and of how accountable you
swear that you were, Herry? Getting up
in the goddamn nighttime with the Boys, getting up in the morning with the Boys
and having them ready for the goddamn day.
These? These lies projecting onto
yourself that which I am responsible, truly responsible for, fucking diss me
the most – because, god knows and so does every other mother whether single,
staying married or becoming single again, that the Boys and I soooo could have
used that accountability from you. Every
one of us mothers can, but this daJudge already knows before you even lie to
him. His ‘Honor’, daJudge, has lied to
himself about how it is that his ex – wife only ‘babysat’ his four daughters
like you, too, called my mothering –– my parenting –– of the very own babies whom
I alone … grew! … ‘babysitting,’ Herry.
daJudge tells himself, too, just how splendid and just how fantastic a
housekeeper and a mighty fine childcare provider he, too, was. So when you say you are, you did, you made,
you got up, you coached, you drove, you cleaned, you cooked, you encouraged art
and mechanics –– you soooo sacrificed your own wants and desires because you
gave the Boys your very all –– ? Why, …
you are soooo, so fucking good at it and that you, most importantly here, will now quite definitely keep that all up
and that that’s why you should be given full physical care custody, why, fuck
Herry, you’re home free with … with ‘His
Honor’: the goddamn lying – to – his –
own – self Mr. Also – Pillared Judge Man!”
“But, hey Herry, you better here not lie toooo goddamn well.
Or, you just might! You can, for
chris’sake! You can end up having physical care custody of all three of my Truemaier Boys and then you really, really having to do it all
alone like I, in Truth, did do! Ha! Herry!
You better watch it here with this sugar and honey slop of yours to
daJudge! And lastly, Herry, regarding
that I – am – so – accountable – to – my – kids lie #iv), the one where you
were supposedly commuting back and forth every weekend the year of 1978 to
1979? What a grueling toll on you that
must’ve been: why, boo – hoo, boo –
fucking – hoo, poor you, poor you … Huh?
And so, too, would daJudge so surely think it hard and soooo parentingly
committed of you to’ve done, not? Well, really
though, Herry, what about that?
Is that – any of it – True?!
I mean I finished and graduated from veterinary medical school on a
Saturday morning in the middle of May 1978, Jesse well long into my belly some
six months already with Baby Zane in tow, and began working –— I
did –––at the Solon, Iowa, practice the very next Monday morning
because we were all, by then, moved and living in
that coral – colored trailer on the edge of Iowa City! Soooo:
why whatever for then, Herry, were you –– as you swear that you were
–– driving every mother – fucking weekend back and forth to Ames from 1978 to
1979!? Weeeell, that just didn’t quite
happen that way, did it? Not for even
ooooone weekend did you ‘sacrifice’! Not
even at all!!”
“Section C is the funniest, though. Truly.
The Boys are not mentioned so I feel very little sorrow with regard to C
and read there, Truly, only the sick humor of Herry’s! The 51 words about how he drank booze, beer
alone it was, Jury, but saw the Light! And
sought the Light! JYeah, riiiight,
Herry, since 1977, you spent all of those years in self – improvement, did you?!? Noooot!!! Not since 1977, did you get fucking help from
anyone, least of all from alcoholics
anonymous or even maintain a membership there!
What a load of crockshit, Herry!”
This would’ve, too, been so easily tangibly proved –– had Judge Seizor
simply ordered it to be so tangibly proved –– which, of course, … he soooo did not.
And C’s entire second paragraph, all only about Dr. Legion
True and my long and deep sufferings of bookoo disorders within disorders! That is so funny. I never even knew till rereading this now as
I typed it that I suffered codependency from Husband #1 John’s problems with
drugs! John smoked pot now and
then: let’s see, back this would’ve been
before, during and just after Woodstock to which we hitchhiked together in mid August
of 1969, and he did a couple of hits of LSD after that I think and, hhmmm, what
else? Nothing. Nothing of which I ever knew! Perhaps he had done more, but I didn’t know
of it. ‘Problems with drugs’ I did not
know John to have had; he smoked marijuana but not even that regularly and
functioned in his day job as a New York City travel trade magazine writer just
fine. And liked it! No problems of which I ever knew. Let alone, of which … I ever told Herry! “Now?
Now I am having to defend, defend, defend … for a person – John – whom
Herod Edinsmaier hasn’t even met! Never
even one time – yet Herry soooo
knows, doesn’t he, Your ‘Honor’, … and is, carte blanche, permitted by you to
disparage even John!”
“And not only is there no Regional Substance Abuse Center,
but I was the ‘fall of 1987’, Herry, fucking coaching Mirzah’s soccer team, the
one for which you so flamboyantly volunteered to be the coach, wasn’t I?! But you only showed up twice! Two times
only! And then with no funky soccer
mamas to scope out, suddenly you couldn’t, by its season’s very third practice,
… you, Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, you just couldn’t seem to get away to coach
anymore at all! … so that I went on
to do all of your sessions that
entire autumn. I never had any time for
therapy: I was working! As a parent! As … the primary parent!”
“And ‘the violent temper’ pronouncement? Here was more projection onto me,
Jury, and, this time, all of the blame, too!
Let’s recap here for real, Herry.
The Truth. On
this thing, Herry, deal. Deal with
it. Straight up. Literally dead serious.”
“I am not the one here, Herry, who goes ballistic at the
mere mention in your earshot vicinity of the two words, ‘gay guy’, am I? Not only am I the veterinarian and you the
pathologist, I the caretaker and healer of living creatures not even able to
tell me what feels wrong with them and you the dead – carver and tissue –
splitter who doesn’t even have to try
to relate to his ‘patients’ –– literally –– at all; but it was you, Doctor – “Healer”
Herod Edinsmaier, you, Herry, who actually handed that mother at the Columbia
morgue door her very own dead three – year – old child,
naked,
without so much as a crib sheet covering its lifeless corpse. That was
you, too, Dr. Edinsmaier, you who right out loud mocked and chortled, you who
snorted and sneered and sniggered at me every single time I spoke to you or
anyone else within your range of hearing about … the mother – child bond. At that ––
at the bond between child and mother –– you Herry, you actually fucking
laughed. Every single time. Must be
why, Herry, you could actually threaten both Zane and me with Zane’s death,
couldn’t you? Besides the violence of
your woman – hating pornography that you consumed with my little ones,
you
actually threatened to kill my child, too, didn’t you, Herry? And just the very year before! So I am not talking about the cold, late
November when Robyn and Robin, thank goodness, were home when I so needed them, am I, cuz that happened in
Columbia in the presence of all three of my even littler sons then,
didn’t it? When you physically hoisted
me up onto your shoulder and flung me over your back like a bag of feed or a
sack of some much shittin’ waste. And
threw me out of my home. My
own home. You, “The Good Doctor,” did that, and then
you up and locked me clean out of it. For two days and two cold, November nights. Away from my home and away from my babies. And I had to ask my friends, Robyn and Robin,
for a temporary place to crash! No,
Herry, I’m not talking about your earlier years of brutality, tyranny and
terrorism; I’m talking about Othello Drive right here in Ames –– inside it and
behind it. How come ya’ left this one
out of your affidavit to daJudge Man, Herry?
It’s not like a year later when writing and submitting this affidavit to
‘The Court,’ ya’ couldn’t’ve remembered having perped it, is it?!
You threatened to hurl Zane into the swollen and raging and so freezing
Squaw Creek behind our home in the damned Brookside Forest that last spring of
1988. With Jesse who was 9 and Mirzah
just 8 huddled and gaping on together back up on the deck, Herry. So afraid they were that you were coming back
up there for the two of them next. So
was I! You were going to throw them in,
too, weren’t you? Or threaten to. And we all knew it. It was just a matter of your coming back up
there to the deck for them, too. I am
down on my mother – fucking knees clinging to Zane’s legs … begging and begging
and begging You, the Good and Wonderful Doctor, not to kill him. This, followed it was by your ever, ever
famous snide smirkface squint of … ‘Gotcha, Bitch!’, this death threat of killing
my child – after Zane, just
age 11, had jumped up onto
your back trying his damnedest to get you, Daddy Dearest, off … of
me! You had me, Dear Doctor
Sperm Donor of my children,
pinned down – your knee crushing my breastbone – to the master bed with your
raised and clenched fist threatening my left periorbital bone, eye, forehead
and cheek, hadn’t you?! You whirled up
and around, swept up Zane and ran with him, him now pinned into your clutch to
the riverbank with me rushing and begging behind and Jesse and Mirzah staring
on aghast and so full of fear. You did
that, Herry. You and you alone. Just the year before this very
affidavit! Your children come first, do
they? At all times even? So accountable are you with their
responsibilities, are you? Just right on
top of it at all times? Riiiiiight, Dr.
Edinsmaier, I’ll say you are. You just
keep on telling daJudge that fuck. You
know he never checks for sure, does he? You
know that. For certain you
do, doncha’?”
These pillared male judges about whom Dr. Herod Edinsmaier soooo,
so looks quite like? Why, they’ll never,
never, ever check out Liar Herry’s stories for how real, for how True – or
not – they are, will they?! “You
so, so know this one wee fact, don’t you?!
They will not. So it ends up,
doesn’t it, O Great Fathering One … that cuz of who you actually resemble in
maleness and in pillaredness, … … that it is soooo, soooo easy to lie to and to
deceive anyone inside an American civil court of ‘law’ and get
clean, slick away with it, isn’t it?! You literal Mother – Fucker!”
“So much for short, short section C. On to D.
Its lies. i) ‘in 1985, she
gathered the children around and told them they would never see me again until
they were 16. This caused two of our
children to run away from home for a short period of time.’ Truth?
Truth is, isn’t it, Herry: Zane
ran away because I gathered him around and told him he couldn’t go off fishing
by himself at Robyn and Robin’s that afternoon!
And that I wasn’t able to take him out fishing to Finger Lakes State
Park either. And when – in his running
away – he got as far away as the busy, eight – lane intersection about four
blocks from our duplex, he paused for several minutes, then even angrier
because there was no way he could get across it, Zane turned around and trudged
back on home. And how do I know any of
this, Herry? How? Isn’t it because Jesse and I told you what he and I were really doing while all of this
was happening to Zane? The two of us,
Jesse and I, had gathered ourselves, hadn’t we Herry, into the Shitbox Dodge
and were following Zane out of his view, Jesse beside me on the front seat, and
both of us saw this entire display, didn’t we?!
Then we also told you that
both of us witnessed from a side street where we were parked something else
most disconcerting: that when a Columbia
cop drove right by Zane in that July heat and saw him all covered up there on
the corner in his heavy winter parka packing a fishing pole and a bunch of
other gear but with no winter and no frozen – over pond anywhere within that
hot summer’s sight, that cop still didn’t do a thing. He didn’t even pull over and stop to talk to
Zane and ask him what was up. We told you all of this when you got
home! It was 1985 all right so Zane,
being all of 9 years of age, looked only that old to anyone. Especially, we thought, to a lawman. Jesse, only 7, even remarked on it: that how could a policeman drive on by a
little kid dressed like that and packing belongings and obviously looking like
he was trying to cross a busy, busy highway and not even notice?! Now that
is what really happened! That’s what the
Truth is, isn’t it, Herry?! And,
furthermore, it was I and Jesse who were keeping guard over Zane. It was never, never, never you, Daddee –
Herry, who was safekeeping Zane – ever!”
And as regards lie #ii) the minimal access? “Why, Herry, you know why that really happened,
you pornography perv!!! It is easier to
lie to and to deceive in an American court of civil law, isn’t it? I gave them over to your mother – fucking,
perverted ‘fatherly care’ up till early January 1989, every single friggin’
weekend for over 48 hours and then, well, you would not stop with your true
addiction. You wouldn’t even try. You wouldn’t even try to stop – or go to get
help to try to cease with it. Fuck, you
won’t even acknowledge it to this day – let alone, the crimes of providing
pornography to minor children, O Pillared Daddee! So,
hell, was I to endanger the Boys
longer than that?! I
think not!!!”
Little did I know then what Rachel has since so succinctly
stated, “And don’t you forget it, Legion:
there jus’ ain’t no judge who doesn’t surf porn himself!” Rachel is, well, right on the very mark,
isn’t she? “And not only the judges, is
it Herry? It was Mr. Jazzy Jinx himself,
my attorney, whose den, like yours
Herry, also contained Playboy for his
– and for who else’s, for all we know – for his casual off hours’ perusal. It was Mr. Jazzy Jinx who, himself physically
manhandling me, rammed me –— his very own
client, for chris’sake! –— upside the inside of his slammed office door and
bellowed at me, ‘Shut up, Legion! Now
you just shut up ‘bout this sex addiction stuff! You’re so exasperating, Legion! You have to shut up about this, you hear
me! Cuz, cuz, a … ah … ah … a lotta nice
people read Playboy, Legion. An’ ah, ah, it isn’t gonna play well. In court I mean. You can’t be saying this stuff in court, I’m
tellin’ ya! It just won’t play there at
all! Believe me!’ Even though it was The Fucking Truth, it
wouldn’t play well there in court Jinx had just fucking admitted, Herry. Soooo, how would I know about his own goddamn
den, do ya’ suppose, Herry? S’pose
someone else who knows pornography’s pernicious deadliness told me about it
when she happened to be there in it – Jinx’s den – when at his own home
visiting? S’pose someone – other than I!
– thinks pornography in the hands of little children is a … well, what,
Herry? What would that be, Herry, d’ya’s’pose?!
Try the word ‘crime’! We think
it’s a mother – fucking crime, Herry, don’t we, Realtor Madonna and I do?! As regards ‘the safety and wellbeing of
children and moral climate’ of section fucking D, Herry?”
Pornography, any
form of it, in the hands of, let alone
in the subscribed – to name of, minor
children are the crimes of child
endangerment and child abuse. That is what it really is. “But daJudge, even my own lawyer besides
yours, Herry, and of course, you yourself, Daddy Herry Dearest? Were you all going to point all of your
fingers back at yourselves ever? More
accurately, were they each ever going to stop this woman – loathing act? O, let’s just fucking summon up the First
Amendment here. The one no woman ever
had a hand or voice in constructing, that
First Amendment. And the one that,
when constructed, was never done so by those men with the intent by any of them
that it would also work for the Not Males, the DEhumans, the
females. Just summon it up. And, ‘Move the hell on,’ Jinx was so loud, so
angry and soooo hands – on that afternoon. One thing more I can now say with the
staunchest of strength, conviction and will, ‘Herry, just whoooooa! You just back the fuck up here. Nooooo invoking the First Amendment with me
you don’t, not any bloody damn more, you don’t!
No fucking First Amendment on this with me, Herry Daddee. Not with me.
How dare you entitle this section D anything
–– anything
at all –– about the so – called, alleged safety or wellbeing or moral
climate for kids. The very kids who were
sperm DNA – spawned by you. How mother –
fucking dare you, Herod Edinsmaier, You Child – Molesting Criminal!’” * *
* *
