The Drama Club Sucker Punch

 

drama club

Some folks  know how to put the D R A M A in drama club.  This morning I got an automated phone call from the schools front office, informing me that G was not in school for fourth hour!  What? Where? Who? Really?  So, I call back and I get some story about a swath of students in the office for something and she (G)  could’ve possibly been one of them…so what do I want them to do, they ask.  I say well, find her, I just want to make certain she is in school as I dropped her off this a.m.  Okay , hold please.  So I hold, I hold my heart rate to a steady 190 beats per minute, which is hardly even freaking out at this point.  Back to the phone she comes…nope, she wasn’t one of those students, what would you like us to do?  

I say find her, she should be there.  Now I am picturing what every mother who has a kid in USDxxx  pictures, their darling daughter being raped under the stairwell, any stairwell or inside her own locker, which is by her own words cavernous.  We will call you back.  I wait.  I waited five and a half hole minutes, then  I took my unwashed fever sweated up hair out in my over used sweat pants. (still haven’t moved much into my new divorcee digs).  I get Gidget off the phone with her ahem bf, and take the minivan/monster truck/sports car on a death ride down to USDxxx.

I arrive at the security desk.   What do you want, asks he who’s most likely to have wrapped my kid in a tarp?  I am here because my daughter is missing.  Missing?  Yep, missing…I did my best not to mention the lack of police cars and/or dogs, hand to God, I have seen the local POPO turn out in force for a weave pulling.  However, I figured being there in my vintage Puma’s, that won a league title in ’79 said it all, I don’t need your stinkin dogs.  Bring them in to clean up the mess I will make out of whatever student is holding my little, okay my full grown offspring hostage.  He sends me to the office.

I appear at the desk to hear the annual budget report between two ladies sitting the desk and one man who came in to blow a wee bit of marvelous up their skirts.  Finally, a woman comes on the scene she can see the SOS flashing in mine eyes. Can I help you?  Yes, my daughter has gone missing.  Oh you must be G’s mom.  Yep, I am her H1N1 fever covered, getting ready to issue a personal Amber alert, mother.  Here is a confirmation booger you can cross match that with this wad of DNA I yanked from her hairbrush, plus this IDenta-kid piece I have circa 1999, note the delicate finger print, you might want to enlarge that 70%.  

This office gal gets on the phone to Mr. Peltier’s class (no, not Leonard-still not letting felons work directly out of the school, even if they are previously degreed).  Mr. Peltier has not been returning her call.  Finally she gets him, to everyone’s relief, and by everyone I mean the 25 personalities that I have fractured into to keep from giving anyone in my blood circle the shaken baby syndrome, I am told, she is in the auditorium with Mrs. Onoudidnt.  Seems she forgot to give notice that the drama kids would be out of their classes.  I must have looked like someone purloined my five year old, because she had to report to the Mr., I was distraught.  Had I never worked in the drama club trenches, I’d have wondered why I was the only parent concerned their little precious had been missed in their fourth hour.

Oh drama club, some days, it just needs to stay on the stage.  I am still mentally throwing up. Glad they don’t call from college, or am I?  Maybe my freshman drop out would still be there.

USDxxx problems…Murica

keep calm drama club

The Tao of Ball

goldensThe Tao of ball as explained to me by Golden Retrievers.  Who better to explain the religiosity behind their most sacred game?  These noble dogs who relentlessly practice ball in a silent contemplative glazed-eye trance, believe that the evils of this world could be cured by humans willing to trade their earthly concerns to live in a symbiotic relationship with dog.

This provides a  relationship that feeds dog and human equally in mutually satisfying fashion.  You must first admit that ball is everything. If it were untrue, would the word ALL be such an integral part  of BALL?

As long as the ball keeps flying all is right with the world.  Breaks can  be punctuated with loud  bark, dogs deploying their own form of gospel encouragement.  If the ball is put up one only has to look to the retriever patiently waiting with eyes trained on ball, these are the eyes of the faithful.  If you the ball handler, take yourself out for a rest, don’t worry, a retriever will wander by with a bottle of Dasani in his mouth, to keep you hydrated.

A few of the more devout retrievers can manifest a miracle.  That’s right take out three balls play until your arm is the consistency of a pool fun noodle, and then put all three balls in their away place.  Now wait for it.  It may take as long as an hour but eventually a fourth ball never before in existence will manifest itself.

After my in-depth research into the tao of ball, I was made an honorary Golden and I have been certified as a 33 degree ball bitch.  The ball crashes, ball rolls, ball is fluid, it defies gravity it yeilds to gravity, ball can be easy or hard, the mouth takes the shape of ball when inside.  Be the ball,.ball face

Foil Hat Limitations

imageSure this guy has some problems, a bum knee, a desire to lounge when he should be walking, and a Mom who hand rolls pain meds in roast beef are just a few.  All in all this is the face of a loving and gentle beast pal.

So fabulous is he, I thought he deserved a life of service work.  As his post surgical knee went on the mend, we became fast friends.  I was employed to make his day carefree and relaxing.  He unleashed his therapy upon my soul.

Now we  have all seen the scamming ladies with their purse dogs wandering into establishments with  canines claiming their hounds do therapy.  I can’t imagine the mental malpractice these purse dog ladies suffer when their chihuahua’s turn Cujo at a the annual back to school shop-a-thon.

My guy works various modes of therapy, touch, humor, eyes that pick up every inflection.  You have to admit there is something therapeutic about being listened to, even if there is no resolution, no retort, just big watery brown-eyed understanding.  This dog understands humans and their needs intrinsically.  So, why stop at just providing the service for home healthcare workers and his momma’s?  He is too great too majestic for just his people.  His medicine is big.

Sure he has work, if he chooses to go back to his role as ambassador at the Doggy Daycare where he spent his days prior to having a fully functioning knee.  He took the new dogs about and showed them the ropes, making sure they felt welcome and friended.  I had visions of him in full traditional service, as a seeing eye dog.

Oh, how grand he would look in his human walking rig.  A giant fuzzy purse with handles and some kind of internal GPS.  How do they know where the blind person wants to go?  Details.  Let the blind or the trainer impart that little piece of knowledge.  I just wanted to let our Golden boy know how esteemed he’d be, taking blind Mellon Chitlin’ about on the town.  Swirling thoughts that went pfffitt, when dog decided his go to move when not wanting to participate on his scheduled walks was to lay in the middle of the cul-de-sac.  dog in street

Gee, that’s just great a purse dog of a different order with a disability that no foil hat can cure.  I can’t market this dog as seeing eye because no one wants to witness little Helen Keller laying in the cul-de-sac with her defunct pup, waiting for a trip back up the driveway.  Poor Helen, all this guy wants to do is play ball in his house with his creature comforts.  I can’t imagine the abuse his daycare workers are in for as he relentlessly shoves balls at them. Helen of the cul-de-sac won’t have to worry, I can’t recommend this beast for service detail, his walk is broken.  He does love the foil hat, it cuts down the voices, and most of all it cuts down on expectations.

Auditions for Annie

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I told these guys about a casting notice for Annie. We talked about Hollywood’s concept for updating the script. Pretty sure with two sweet retrievers we’d be a lock for the role of Sandy.

Actors!  After prepping by watching film, taking in a community theatre show, and going through the cartoon, my stage trained dogs decided they want to play Annie damnit!

Nice dead eyes boys, but you better be able to dance.

Slobber Ball as Played by Yellow Eyed Demons

Slobber ball is a form of exercise known to retrievers as -bitch you only got one throwing arm, seriously.  It’s an endless cycle of slobbered up ball in my lap or hand and throw,  hey there it is again.  If you stop, the dog shuts down like a wind-up toy.  All done, life is not worth living unless there is a ball in motion.  Can’t waste energy at some point in my day balls may fly.

You can hear the beasts internal monologue clamoring for more balls, asking what happened to Captain Kangaroo and the massive ball drop, can we go to Times Square and watch an epic ball drop, are we having a ball yet?  Shut up Fido, you gave me carpal tunnel in under an hour.

I tried to stop throwing, they are going to need a Chantrix, maybe a ball cessation program or a ball patch.  Like Pringle’s once you start you can’t stop. yllow eyed demon dogs

 

Like A Boss

like a bossMy Boss rolls like a golden boy.  Sure he’s pampered, spoiled rotten, entitled and he makes me work long hours yet, I am falling in love with him.  Scandalizing love, breaking rules love, interspecies love and the clock is on, as my position is temporary.  Work runs out in two weeks as he is a master at recuperation.

I work for a bum kneed dog, who without the full use of his leg relies on a human with opposable thumbs, to apply ice packs, open doors, take on long drags through the neighborhood and toss balls as the surgery heals and this knee becomes a working piece of joint art.

The workplace should be uncomfortable, he licks my face, he sits too close, demands to be touched constantly.  I tried hard to keep a professional distance, but I have failed miserably.  He has whimsical hair and a shameless way of making happy noises at my arrival.  He wags at the sound of my voice.  Why aren’t humans programmed like this?

Sure, I have thought about extending my stay as the hand that rocks his cradle.  Although I can’t wear the knee out, he really doesn’t walk…more than five steps out into his cul-de-sac to make a Mahatma Ghandi protest in the street.  Shamelessly this dog rolls like a BOSS.

In 14 days he will be back at the daycare cuddling with his own species again.  I will be discarded like a bag of curbed dog waste. There is only one way to look at my summer fling, as a great learning experience.  I was brought in to provide therapy for this blonde god of a dog, and I sat in close quarters as he gave up pain killers,  resumed standing on all fours and dabbled with walking. All while this golden boy healed me of all stressors, simultaneously opening my chakras to the potentiality of universal love through fuzz therapy.

I’ll never forget my time with him, and to be certain he won’t forget me, I am filing a sexual harassment lawsuit against him.  He made me watch him detail his junk with that ‘you can’t stop me’ look on his face.  I can’t, but maybe the EEOC can.  Maybe not, but he’ll have a lot less money to impress the thumbless bitches he’ll be hanging with at daycare.  That’s right, I am going to sue him just like a boss.

poolside meltdowndog in street

This Dog Don’t Walk

IMAG0935_ZOE006_SHOT

This dog isn’t right.  He’s congenitally defective.  A surgeon fixed that with some titanium screws to the anterior cruciate ligament. Shave the leg slice it open, drill baby drill.  Theoretically a new dog.

What we have here, is a failure to communicate. The Dr ordered workouts post-op. The dog isn’t down with the doc’s agenda. Walking the dog twice daily increasing the time walked by ten minutes each week   Easier than sitting in an air-conditioned room watching “Behind the Candelabra”, or so one would think. The Golden, that’s what he has me call him, don’t walk. This dog don’t walk.  His mom tells me his brand doesn’t do that…too pedestrian.

His people, a.k.a other Golden Retrievers, put things in their mouths, and are good family dogs, to couch loving humans who also hate walking. That is great information to have after taking your 100 pound patient for an extended sidewalk lay about.

The beast has made it to the illusive thirty minute barrier.  This dogs 4 minute mile.  Will he Billy Mills this walk?  He should it is a clear July day and the temp is 72 degrees.  Optimal walking in July can be had, the neighborhood is gorgeous, landscaped and blooming, cars traveling in rapid succession, watching the two winsome blondes walking through the hood, a mass of hair and purpose.  We have this.  Nothing can stop the blonde parade of slobber and sniffing, nothing…but…

The palpable need to sit.  Someone is looking to cop a squat? The Golden takes a chair, then looks into your very psyche with his big brown eyes as if to say, don’t think bad of me.  How could I? You have a bad knee, fuzzhound.

The patient reads my lack of judgement as a sign that he can level up in the daily walk game.  He sighs, lays down and stretches across the sidewalk offering up his fleshy middle to whatever may come. Sweet meats free to suburban carrion eaters?  If this dog wasn’t neutered his giant cojones would be registered with Ripley’s Believe it or Not.

So we sit a spell, relax, I guard him against vultures and buzzards while we wait for the walking refractory period to end and get this dog back on the leash. Every twenty minutes he’d move two trees and then collapse in a pool of shade and drool.  Resting like he rests at home, shamelessly on the mean streets of suburban bliss.  He laid so still a stone mason delivering a statue of someone in a yamaka asked to help.  Help us?

The dog once again pled with his giant orbs - take a ride with the stranger.  I gave into those eyes once and now I am sitting under a tree with the equivalent of a fur covered emphasemic middle-aged old man, who only talks when his mouth is full.  I am not riding with the nice serial killer man, because for the low low price of some air conditioning this Golden would not defend me.  I have a sneaking suspicion as apathetic as he is he wouldn’t even help dig the grave.  I explained the dog wasn’t dead just excessively lazy. Looking for more fight in his victim, the nice serial killer drove on, planting his Jewish statuary on some other poor unsuspecting victim with a more imposing sleeping hound.  yoga dog 1

 

 

 

 

Sacred Ground, Tried Territory

image

The spot of land where nothing grows beneath the swing, lifes sweetest spot. This parcel has felt the joyous feet of little ones excitedly padding for take off.  Nestled below the excelleration of flying children, it’s where the laughter lands.

The swing is a board suspended by rope, old fashioned charm deployed from a tree that is last to leaf out in spring first to drop leaf in fall.  The tree becomes a familial keystone with the addition of the swing, rendering anything underfoot dust.

What was a ridiculous indulgence of a life long love of self-propelled flight has become a spot of sacred territory. Deep joy, serious laughter,merriment and mediation have been conducted over the seemingly barren patch of land.  As well as heartbreaks, important calls, texts, all taken on this garden swing.

Years ago watching the kids play and sway over the bald spot in the yard I began to wonder if anything would grow where the wild things had played.

Thouhts of all the laughter, lessons and problems resolved on the plank gave way to realization. My ground is embueyed with life. The life’s joy of my children their friends and myself.

There is no ground cover fit to mask the joy of take off. This is a spot that remembers me as I was, welcomes me as I am and is generously waiting to make brighter my future.

Sprinkle your territory with laughter, soar above your pains, and look at bald patches worn by time as though they’ve been rained on with joy. My sacred space is on the swing and the land
below it.

Ten Steps with Dog

Dog watcyoga dog 1hing, it’s an art.  Anyone can spot a dog, but watching takes a laid back groove.  Enhanced with tea ceremonials, meditation , moderate walks, basks in the sunshine and yoga, the Golden whom I work for is fluent in advanced poses opening chakras and deep breathing.

When a dog is on the mend or the lamb such as the Golden that hired me to break him from his opiate addiction, I knew his only real hope of getting clean was to do the internal work.  Meet thyself on the yoga mat.  yoga dog

Yoga dog is a heartbreaking mix of perfect canine, and someone else’s man.  If only the friend who belongs to him wasn’t a serial killer aficionado, running off with the Golden to an ashram, where we do yoga all day, would make perfect sense.

He is somewhat brilliant in pushing himself no farther than he need go.  He is the perfect example of a yogi in prime.  Dog is a brilliant transmographier of energy.  You come in to make the dog feel better.  You leaving feeling infinitely better.

He will go on back to his old life.  Doggy daycare.  I don’t believe in it.  Probably filled with pink eye and cliquish dogs, impossible grooming standards.  No wonder he was stressed enough to need a life/sobriety coach.yoga dog 2

Monsanto Tongue Patch Kit

image

Have you watched the rat movie? Excited protesters asked at the global rally.  I hadn’t at the time but my paper machete head with cranial rat emerging, told folks this modern day Willard would make my day.

More horrifying than Ben killing to a Michael Jackson cult classic, Monsanto’s own classic rat film only 12+minutes is a cringeworthy Real Stories of the Oncologist.
The rats grew tumors like it was their jobs.

Get your tongue protector while they are hot and legal. A Brazilan wiznut plastic surgeon repurposed a liver patch kit for your tongue. Making eating solid food impossible with a 30lb. weight loss program guarantee.  Wrap your tongue in Kevlar the foodpocolypse is upon us.

Finally a nice little out patient procedure to get you off Monsanto’s feed. This is living.

Watch “GMO & Pesticides Cause Tumors & Higher Mortality Rate? (Documentary of Actual Study) [VEDS #21]” on YouTube

Food Fight Monsanto Game Over

Chuk NorrisChuck Norris, if he is for us, then who can be against us?  9 out of 10 DNA Mixologists have turned in their bloody pipettes, in a futile attempt to save their own lives. Chuck Norris vs. the food wizards, Walk Texas Ranger vs.  MonsantoCo/Kraft Industries Keptboy Roy Blunt, and you thought we only brought 2,000,000 people and 52 countries to the food fight  Total Gymed but totally against GMO’s, now we are packing heat.

Fear of eating GMO’s is called biohazardphobia, fear of eating rBGH is recombophobia, fear of Chuck Norris is called logic.  In the worlds largest food fight, it is always good to know your opponent.  So for the few DNA splicing peckers who didn’t resign these are the facts on Chuck Norris from  www.thechucknorrisfacts.com

1. Chuck Norris’ tears cure cancer.  Too bad he’s never cried, you could have sold the magic elixir to Eli Lilly.

2. Chuck Norris counted to infinity-twice.

3. Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.

4. If you see Chuck Norris he can see you.  If you can’t see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.

5. Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability.  Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back.  The devil, who appreciated irony, couldn’t stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming.  they now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.

6. When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

7. Chuck Norris has already been to Mars, that is why there is no life there.

8. They once made a Chuck Norris toilet paper, but it wouldn’t take shit from anybody.

Monstanto/ Blackwater/Blunt  2,000,000 people and Chuck Norris  want to know where the GMOs are buried.  We were just asking kindly for a label.  Maybe now that Chuck is in the ring, we can have some justice.  Food fight for your life.

 

 checkmate

 

 

Label Fables and Upturned Tables

The WhoNow with more natural beef flavoring.  Labeling on the nations beef indicates beef is a big winner.  It has been enhanced by its own essence.  Nothing to see here nothing to see at all.  It is the equivalent of Britney Spears wearing her own fragrance, Curious?  Meat earned status labeling.  What’s this a warning?  A finely textured beef flag?  What has become of my protein?  How did the flavor seep out of the beef?

The label slipped out before the information on the whizzing of the beef.  A reference to the giant centrifuge where beef waste is whizzed about until the sinew and bone hugging tissues are ferris wheeled about until thrown off the bone and into a piece of polystyrene packaging, and labeled with questionable verbage.

Labeled?!? Doesn’t someone have to pull a congressional train to get labels?  Why yes, yes they do.  So how did beef, get enhanced with more beef flavorings and earn a label?  Meat separate from its juice requires, a label because somewhere in the process the juice is put back in, somewhere in the process the antibiotics must be covered, the taste of bio engineering is washed away until the product packaged with just enough food color to slip under the label window renders it a piece of beef worthy of making it into a Chuck Jones cartoon.

One day we will have beef tasters, who go out to industrial cattle farms and are served the fruits of the farmerless farms.  Mmmhmm I would love a glass of fine textured meat squeezin’s paired with a lovely Cabernet.  Taking in a little oxygen as the goop slides across the tasting buds, playing notes of earthy, antiseptic, and hints of Round Up Ready corn-fed goodness.

The finely textured beef outrage caused an industry collapse, according to faceless finely textured advocates.  So the beef was dropped–into the public school food domain. Politics are the shit, and juice covers a lot of shit.

So when the whine finished flowing from the millions marching against food autocracy, why did the kids in the sandbox blow their load virally.  It wasn’t because of success.  No success has no place in the dead bread basket, this is Roy Blunt turf.

Kraft ran the bulls and the autocracy that wants to continue on their mission.   While you kept your head down working, they are ’staging’ an internal fight.  They hired some folks and then set out to pit the pro-people against we the people.  When warfare is what you know, warfare is what you do.  So wait for the new big thing, the next bunch of anarchists and the internet anarchist slayers, that will keep you in front of the eight ball.  Or just throw on the hip waders the bike helmet and go forward, because when you know better you do better. bacon man

People of any origin or species need to know what is in the food they eat, especially food coming without a wrapper.  Any government agency should suffice for holding up the ideal of nature. So nine out of ten babies when asked called the apple an apple.  Only the E-Trade knew the score, ”a genetically modified food substance grown from sustainable fibers, proteins and sugars with an antibiotic chaser to keep freckles from blighting the skin and a wax coating that preserves the substantially equivalent food product until it gets to your fruit bowl.” The difference wasn’t parenting, the difference was that E-Trade baby has a better vocabulary.

Wonder what’s in your food?  Even the people granting labels for beef juice wonder…covering the cat box one flavor at a time.

 

 

Senato®s Vote Against GMO Labeling 71 Phone Numbers for Your Next Call Party

legit rapeSenators voted on a farm bill that will deny you the right to know what is in your food.  Granting the ultimate Protection Act.  Protecting a public that demands the right to know what we are ingesting.  The right to label may come to fruition in Vermont and Connecticut by 2018 yet, the Monsanto Protection Act, like a one sized fits all condom just slips right on in a pinch.  Do any of us have fair and equal representation?

When a reasonable request, such as what’s the beef with asking, what’s in the beef, milk, feed, plant, grain, seed ?  Can it really be more economical to hire hackers and bad actors, to prop up your pseudo parting of like-minded folks who want you out of office?  Congress take a note:  2 months, 2 million people world-wide, protested this atrocity against mankind.  You may like eating in the dark but we prefer a little light on the situation, here in kitchen stadium 2013 the home version.

Generation March Against Monsanto are pretty like-minded when it comes to getting contaminants out of our food.  So here’s to the politically driven of the march.  I am providing a list with the senators whom thought you ought NOT know what’s on our table in your belly or sitting in the babies bottle or breast milk.  The list is 71 + Barb Mikulski for dropping the turd that is the Monsanto Protection Act on us.  You are swirling the drain Barb with Old Roy there.  For shits and giggles I thought I’d thrown in a bonus the official senate phone numbers, Monsanto has them so should the unlabeled masses.  Call make a party of it.  Assemble a list of A-lister phone numbers and buy an appropriate number of spoof cards.  The senatorial pool will fill with floaters, meaning we will have achieved homeostasis.

Senator        Phone number 202 224 xxxxperfect

Lamar Alexander                   202 224 4944

 

Kelly Ayotte                            202 224 3324

 

Tammy Baldwin                    202 224 5653

 

John Barrasso                       202 224 6441

 

Max Baucus                         202 224 2651

 

Roy Blunt                               202 224 5721

 

John Boozman                      202 224 4843

 

Sherrod Brown                      202 224 2315

 

Richard Burr                           202 224 3154

 

Thomas Cancer                      202 224 2441

 

Robert Casey                          202 224 6324

 

Saxby Chambliss                   202 224 3521

 

Daniel Coats                           202 224 5623

 

Tom Coburn                          202 224 5754

 

Thad Cochran                       202 224 5054

 

Susan Collins                        202 224 2523

 

Christopher Coons              202 223 5042

 

Bob Corker                            202 224 3344

 

John Corbyn                        202 224 2934

 

William Cowan                   202 224 2742

 

Mike Crapo                          202 224 6142

 

Ted Cruz                              202 224 3922

 

Joe Donnelly                      202 224 4814

 

Richard Durbin                 202 224 2152

 

Michael Enzi                      202 224 3424

 

Deb Fischer                        202 224 6551

 

Al Franken                         202 224 5641 don’t forget to mention his atrocities in the name of comedy

 

Kirsten Gillibrand            202 224 4451

 

Lindsey Graham               202 224 5972

 

Chuck Grassley                202 224 3744

 

Kay Hagan                       202 224 6342

 

Tom Harkin                    202 224 3254

 

Orrin Hatch                    202 224 5251

 

Heidi Hiefkamp            202 224 2043

 

Dean Heller                    202 224 6244

 

John Hoeven                 202 224 2551

 

James Inhofe                202 224 4721

 

Johnny Isakson           202 224 3643

 

Mike Johanns            202 224 4224

 

Tim Johnson              202 224 5842

 

Ron Johnson             202 224  5323

 

Tim Kaine                  202 224 4024

 

Mark Kirk                   202 224 2854

 

Amy Klobucher         202 224 3244

 

Mary Landrieu          202 224 5824

 

Mike Lee                    202 224 5444

 

Earl Levin                  202 224 6221

 

John McCain            202 224 2235

 

Claire McClaskill       202 224 6154

 

Mitch McConnell      202 224 2541

 

Robert Menendez     202 224 4744

 

Jerry Moran             202 224 6521

 

Bill Nelson              202 224 5274

 

Rand Paul               202 224 4343

 

Rob Portman          202 224 3353

 

Mark Pryor              202 224 2353

 

James Risch              202 224 2752

 

Pat Roberts               202 224 4774

 

Marco Rubio            202 224 3041

 

Tim Scott                202 224 6121

 

Jeff Sessions          202 224 4124

 

Jeanne Shaheen    202 224 2841

 

Richard Shelby        202 224 5744

 

Debbie Stabennow 202 224 4822

 

John Thune              202 224 2321

 

Patrick Toomey       202 224 4254

 

Tom Udall                202 224 6621

 

David Vitter             202 224 4623

 

Mark Warner           202 224 2023

 

Elizabeth Warren    202 224 4543

 

Barb Mikulski          202 224 4654

Make a joyful noise unto the food elitists and take back the community table, the farmerless farm.

 

the Round Up Ready Human Genome P®oject Postmortem

The look was pure awe. Mouth agape, pupils dilated, we marched past patrons on monsantoplantthe Country Club Plaza the first mall of the land.  The youngish man was stunned. We couldn’t possibly know, how many were behind us.  This march had a mere 200 confirmed invitees at first blush.  Swelling to a mass of 2100 plus marchers, for Kansas City, 2 million for the world.  439 cities participated in the global stomp on Monsanto’s free boot. The boot not already affixed at our necks.

That poor man had just poured himself out of some establishment into the march of a globe united with one purpose, to expose the worlds largest maker of chemical warfare, and dinnerware.  The look was incredulous, one in being with watching a Monsanto documentary or finding a fabulous article on their crafting of the Round Up Ready Human Genome Project Postmortem. The paniced thought of a misunderstood meal past his face, then all the meals like a shuffling of cards the nuerons were firing through meal after bloody DNA altering meal.  What has happened to my breezy Saturday of pork rinds and cornnuts?  Will the hippies take the big bloody nightmare that is Monsant-hey, that’s a Grandmother marching.  Do 70 year olds march?

The awareness raised was amazing, the public wants to know!  Jr. cafe’ dweller was agog with wanting to know.  The global public assembled and in unison stated, we want this tyranny to end.  In a world where the planet and her people matter, we people of the global one voice, we took back reason, we demanded reason and we awoke the Village. The 71 year old marching next me marched because it was too important to ignore.

Let the sunshine in, it cleans more than germs.  Let’s shine a little light on the Monsanto Monstrosity.  Be a part of the next march.

 

 

Let’s End Monsanto’s Ethic Cleansing

Stop Monsanto’s Ethic Cleansing MAM

bacon man Let’s end the ethic cleansing.

Today is a day that will start the whole globe talking:  Monsanto leaves some questions on the scientific table to be addressed.  To wonder whether you are composed of manmade or man altered materials is among the leading question we can ask.

They have inserted themselves into the DNA of the seed which we feed upon.  They have inserted it into the life forms on which we as a species and many others species have survived on for years.

Under the guise of feeding a starving planet they have injected their Round Up into feed grains.  The are allowed special protections from our government to conduct an experiment in the name of science that is larger in scope than Mengle’s twin studies, farther reaching than the Tuskegee Experiment but has all the earmarks of both atrocities against the whole of humanity.

We the people have been fed from the animals and plants whose DNA has been altered by Monsanto’s transgenic science.  We were fed without warning, without consent.  We were brought from the dinner table to the table of the surgeon, the oncologist, the immunologist and more without just cause as to the why, the how and where the triggers and codons for these diseases were made manifest in us.

Monsanto has taken Manifest Destiny internal.  And by internal I do mean they have aroused the disease state in man and they have aroused the disease state in our congress, our cabinet members, and in lobby’s that press power, prestige and influence to the true elitist among us, our elected officials, as well as our EPA, FDA, and USDA.

This manifest destiny of a new world order involves the contamination of my DNA and yours without consent, while they gene test for their trademark and hold patents that force farmers into a coerced state of Slavdom.  They are changing the worlds landscape internally and externally, by monopolizing the agricultural industry sterilizing the soil and the human that consumes the bounty from that soil.

When you eat from the tree of life and receive a Monsanatized agent be it rBGH, or Round Up ready corn, wheat, or soy, the same process for switching on the genetic mechanism in the animal or plant is tripped in you the human.  Their gene technology isn’t coding for hyper nutrition, or increased protein production, it is turning on the proliferative process that tells cells to get ready to produce in mass.  It is revving up your immune system at the highest levels because your body recognizes this as a foreign body invasion.  The continued ingestion of these foods turns an irritant into a full-blown reaction.  In milk the rBGH reaction has triggered colon, breast and prostate cancers.  In Round Up Ready corn, wheat, and soy it causes endocrine interruption starting at the thyroid the master gland for metabolism.  This gland indicates to all endocrine function and output, this feed leads to Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, infertility, leukemia, and lymphomas.

Monsanto has hidden the results of their studies for years.  They have bullied scientist they have paid for access to your table  directly through Missouri Senator Roy Blunt.  Senator Barb Mikulski has helped by giving them access to the seat of the Senates Appropriations committee.  They have fought in Vermont and Connecticut to keep labeling from you the consumer.  Because given a choice the consumer has shown time and again they do not want to suckle from the technology teat.

Vermont has passed a labeling law and Monsanto is threatening legal action.  More informative labels are being sought and met with the powerful legal swagger of a company who has people at every end of the spectrum.  The EPA, the FDA , the USDA the Supreme Court of the United States of America have Monsanto’s people poised to stop your rights at every turn.  The sixth circuit court of appeals found that Monsanto’s rBST-ed milk is compositionally different, than non recombinant milk, this opened the door for Ohio to label their milk…

This substance rBGH/rBST is only allowed into the American food chain.  27 other developed nations banned this substance, because of the changes to the genome the harm it causes the human and the cow and the antibiotic resistance it brings to the fore.

Bio diversity has been up until this time in history up to man, individual man and nature.  In America we have long-held beliefs that we have a right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Bio slavery is NOT knowing what you are eating, being told it is good for you taking your freedoms and spending them chasing cures.  All while eating food that is no longer food but high-end industrial chemistry with a label: USDA approved.  THIS IS BIO TERRORISM.

The right to know must be ours.  A nobel laureate in the field of medicine a Higgins Professor of Biology at Harvard Dr. George Wald is firmly against the shape shifting of the human genome.  JAMA and Lancett are just two well-respected medical publications that have reported the damaging effects of GMO’s.

The time is now to demand your food be real, untampered with or labeled with very clear labeling.  These products made and shed by Monsanto are creeping into places they have no place being.  Try and find gum without Aspartame.  It is harder than you think and soon it will be in the milk you drink.  PKU babies be damned.  Aspartame is a killer for them.

I cannot say it enough.  But I will say it loudly and often; I SHOULD NOT NEED A PhD TO KNOW WHAT IS IN MY APPLE, CORN, MILK or any other food I choose to purchase for my family.  And if I would need one to disseminate that information it should come with a label, much like the ones the tobacco industry is forced to leave on their packaging.

When Hungary burns its fields to stop the madness that is Monsanto’s monopoly on the seed, feed, and dirty deeds, it’s time to look up.  Raise your heads above the convenience of a drive thru window and ask why?  Why would China destroy Monsanto seed?  Why are we the only developed nation that allows rBGH and rBST when there are tests that prove it raises Insulin Growth Factor 1 in the ingestor which raises the risk of colon and breast cancers astronomically?  Why does our government and its protection agency’s allow for human experimentations outside of a Quentiles laboratory?  What makes this Okay?

Special funding from the inside, special support from Senators like Roy Blunt and Barb Mikulski, who was only in that position because Daniel Inouye died.  Now how many more will die? And how accountable will those senators be to the families of the victims and I do mean victims of breast cancer, colon cancer, and all the other diseases of proliferation, inflammation and antibiotic resistance?

Hold corporate America responsible, hold your senators, congressman, the agencies and president responsible.  Take action at the grocery store, write to the brands you were loyal to.  Find the lists online that tell you who uses GMO’s and more importantly who does not.  Get to the NONGMO Project label and the buycott app that shows where these atrocities lie and be vocal, be vigilant.

The fate of bio diversity should not be in the hands of a 7.4 dollar billionaire, who calls the eating public elitists.  The fate of bio diversity is up to us it is more than time to take back the table.

Make choices.  Choose life.  This is the real right to life fight, don’t be intimidated by it, be empowered.  Get informed and get busy.  We have a long way to go and a short time to get there.  Let’s get the bio terrorism out of our markets.  Bio degradable has turned to bio degradation we must know what we are eating to stop Monsanto from eating us.

It has been said, “If mankind does not rise up and stop Monsanto, Monsanto will rise up and stop mankind.”

Brother Eagle, Sister Sky a message from Chief Seattle

handle earthA message from the past left for the children of earth:

How can you buy the sky? How can you own the rain and the wind? My mother told me, every part of this earth is sacred to our people. Every pine needle.  Every sandy shore.  Every mist in the dark woods.  Every meadow and humming insect.  All are holy in the memory of our people.

My father said to me,

I know the sap that courses through the trees as I know the blood that flows in my veins.  We are part of the earth and it is part of us.  The perfumed flowers are our sisters.  The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers.  The rocky crests, the meadows the ponies—all belong to the same family.

The voice of my ancestors said to me,

The shining water that moves in the streams and the rivers is not simply water, but the blood of your grandfather’s grandfather.  Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of memories in the life of your people.  The water’s murmur is the voice of your great-great-grandmother.  The rivers are our brothers.  They quench our thirst.  They carry our canoes and feed our children.  You must give to the rivers the kindness you would give to any brother.

The voice of my grandfather said to me,

The air is precious.  it shares its spirit with all the life it supports.  The wind that gave me my first breath also received my last sigh.  You must keep the land and air apart and sacred, as a place where one can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.

When the last Red Man and Woman have vanished with their wilderness, and their memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will the shores of the forest still be there?  Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?  My ancestors said to me, This we know:

The earth does not belong to us.  We belong to the earth.

The voice of my grandmother said to me,

Teach your children what you have been taught.  The earth is our mother.  What befalls the earth befalls all the sons and daughters of the earth.

Hear my voice and the voice of my ancestors,

The destiny of your people is a mystery to us.  What will happen when the buffalo are slaughtered? The wild horses tamed?  What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men?  When the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires?  Where will the thicket be? Gone.  Where will the eagle be? Gone. And what will happen when we say good-bye to the swift pony and the hunt?

It will be the end of living, and the beginning of survival.

This we know:  All thins are connected like the blood that unites us.

We did not weave the web of life, we are merely a strand in it.  Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.

We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat.  If we sell you our land, care for it as we have cared for it.  Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it.  Preserve the land and the air and the rivers for your children’s children and love it as we have loved it.chief

In the mid 1850′s the United States Government wanted to buy the lands of the Northwest Indian Nations.  Their proud leader Chief Seattle spoke words, that could not be understood in the lush fertile land of their own time.

How deeply woven the simplicity of all life becomes against the backdrop of the complexities added by modern men.  These words bring the timeless truth to this day.  Rise up and reclaim the simple truth of life.  We are one in being with the land, the air, earths water, mountains, creatures, flora and fauna.  The acts made upon the earth in the name of industry and the acts yet to be visited upon us, are not for our betterment. They destroy what should be laying before us, the future.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=P_NcGDmBXd4

 

 

Monsanto’s Protection Act has a Free Speech Rider?

simbaIt happens that the Monsanto Protection Act buys more than unfettered access to poisoning the masses.  Apparently, when you piss on the Monsanto Organism it rises  from its elite hole locked deep in the anus of Missouri and hires a team of hackers.  These mini dick-taters undercover of the judiciary, want more from you than just sucking down their tainted corn juice and chicken bathed in Round Up (available at a Walmart end cap near you).  They really want your constitution.

That age-old document of yore now lore.   The same one that Roy Blunt, and Barb Mikulski used to wipe their Genetically Modified asses with last month.  Those recombinant Bovinated Growth-ed Hormonal Executives of Monsanto, plaintively wailed that you will not be able to afford Genetically Modified Disclosure. Spending their money to suppress the free speech of one person by hacking their account over six times in one day, makes the statement ring like a liberty bell with truth.  They are targeting other members of the March Against Monsanto movement in an effort to curtail first amendment rights.  The protection act Obama signed has longer arms than the law.

I get the hacking, I truly do.  Monsanto just wants what I want…they want information, they are looking for intelligence.  So they can know what the appropriate course of action is.  I get you Monsatan, I get you.  That’s exactly what I am looking for intel, information on what I am eating?  I don’t want to have to buy a senator to find out what kind of dragon blood you’ve souped up my soup with or waterboard a health department to get my chicken out of Walmart’s lawn and garden center.

The health department in Missouri, where a Walmart placed its warming rotisserie chicken right beside the Round Up Ready broth , understands which side it’s genetically modified organisms are buttered on.  Here in Blunt territory you can park your pesticides, herbicides and food suicides wherever you will.  It is part of the show me states own extrapolation on; give us your tired your poor and your hungry…we will kill them with brand loyalty, as we Monsanatize Ame®ica.

Imagine the money that goes into chasing the anti-Monsanto faction, greasing the health departments, the Roy Blunts, Barb Mikulski’s and the Obama administration.  Those labels must be quite pricey. Maybe that Walmart Chicken Round Up incident was a shallow attempt to merge the label from the herbicide with the causal lawn and garden variety rotisserie chicken.  Nice trial balloon, it didn’t hurt sales one bit.  That chicken was nearly sold out.  Check the picture at the bottom of the feed.

Many are choosing to go with a new  favorite label.  The Non GMO label.  It guides my dollar and makes me think eventually the makers of these products will be thrilled not to have to hack, harass, or sit through a congressional food hearings that look a lot like the cigarette trails of yesteryear.non gmo

Will they find addictives in the food, or just the standard tetracyclines, glyophosates, aspartame that kills PKU babies,  rBGH’s and whatnots?  Or will you just buy up all of our freedoms and continue to rape our seeds, planet, and people?

roundup ready chickenNew Round Up Ready Rotisserie Chicken available at your Walmart Lawn and Garden Center.  Ask for it by name.  It’s killer.

Common Sense Does Not Pass Thru the Blood-Brain Barrier in D.C.

brain on cornThe blood-brain barrier is a semi-permeable membrane, composed mainly of endothelial cells at the end of capillary beds, that allow the transmission of certain substances while stopping others from entering the brain.  This barrier has several important functions, it protects the brain from foreign substances,it protects the brain from hormones and neurotransmitters from other parts of the body, and it maintains a constant environment.truth

Inouye I see it as a microcosm of the role of congress in our lives.  They protect us from invaders, prevent overload from special interests (a.k.a. hormones) and they maintain a constant environment, hopefully one of optimal health with ultimate concern for its constituents well-being.

In the brain large molecules do not pass readily through the blood-brain barrier, neither do low lipid profile molecules or highly electrical charges particles.  Just some of the protections it affords a healthy individual.

In congress we have the Chair of the Senate Appropriations committee charged with safe guarding the American populace against super charged, unctuous lacking, large organisms, like the Monsanto’s of this world.  Senator Barb Mikulski was appointed after the death of Daniel Inouye from Hawaii to this position the watch dog on HR933.  Barb Mikulski is responsible for the large electrically charged molecule Roy Blunt slipping the Monsanto Protection Act across the collective barrier.

In Barb’s defense she issued an apology.  Hands tied, she was choice-less as her only function was to keep the government open.  She had to make concessions.  She had to take one for team Monsanto.  Affording them protection from prosecution for whatever deleterious effects the seed taint industry has in store for us.  With the caveat that it is only in force until harvest.  Harvest of what? The tainted crops, the environmentally compromised organs of its ingestors?

Make certain you keep open a government that has made scandal a the daily multi-vitamin. This Senator was appointed to her post passively through the death of a colleague.  To go forth and sign a death warrant on her countrymen.  Sure she won the adoration of Blunt and the eugenics happy Monsanto lobby, while simaltaneously killing the people she represents, the land that I love.  “It’s not about how long I serve, but about how well I serve my state and my nation.” To quote the longest sitting female in the Senate and current World Record holder in the shark jump, a title previously held by Fonzi from the era of Happy Days.

Common Sense isn’t just a Thomas Paine revolutionary pamphlet, it is a commodity desperately lacking in the governing houses.  In the people who are representing the special pacs, special interests and giant monopoles, common sense is missing in action.Statue of Monsanto

Men In Granite Arrive by Walking Where Angels Dare to Tread

The quote is from the 5th century hillel_quote_magentacommon era, attributed to  Rabbi Hellil the Elder.  “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if  I am only for myself,who am I?” “If not now, when? Ethics of the Fathers 1:14

I thought this an appropriate sentiment to echo the drummer of the March.  The March Against Monsanto is now 41 countries, 330 cities, and over 200,000 people strong. Still growing as we reach the May 25th launch of our global effort to educate the uninformed and let our governments know we are demanding what is right and just, information as to what is in our food and seed.

We are all marching for various reasons, but every reason has less to do with our yesterdays, and our today, and everything to do with our future.  A future beyond our lifetimes.  We march for farmers.  We march for bees.  We march for our children, your children and most importantly the children’s children that are never to be known.  We march for our Earth. Our goal to return our feed, our farms, our land, to the people.  Out of the hands of the unaccountable to be delivered to the hands of the capable the willing to be culpable.

Rabbi Hellil’s ability with words transcend the time and space of the century’s removed.  He left a living word that does justice where our justice system blurs and makes opaque the words and worlds of men and their man-made devotionals.  They stab at the true simplicity of what it is to be human and care for your fellow-man, whether you are in agreement, they reach across all difference and remind us of the common expression of being.

In the ethic of reciprocity he touches on the Golden Rule: “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow.  That is the whole truth, the rest is the explanation, go and learn.” This should be inscribed on the heads and hearts of our congressmen and women as they do unto others in their chambers.

For: “whosoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world.  And whosoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world.”

These words resonate in me to my very bones, for worlds are being destroyed and offered up for sale.  Corporations are to serve people, not peoples to serve corporations.  We have been long-lost, I am asking you to find yourselves.  Care, be kind and work for the souls here and the souls yet to come.  Everyone a world unto themselves, everyone worth every effort.  This lifetime give your best.

Be the change you wish this world would realize.  Our time is so very preciously now.

hillel

 

Do Los Luchadores Contribute to Infant Mortality?

los luchadoreThe state of the fly over state is dire.  In Kansas there is a county that has the highest rate of infant mortality in the country.  I believe we are still first world, but blame Roy Blunt and Barb Mikulski if I am wrong.  They are the senate tag team Los Luchadores able to deliver legislation to your table under cloak and pork. Arriving at your table piping hot and riddled with chronic.  Chronic disease states for you and your loved ones.  Mmm good, it’s Mother’s Day, will someone please pass me the genetically modified num nums?

If we can alter food that isn’t crying out for any type of help at  all, then why oh why can’t we do something substantial about a real problem that exists here in our Monsantized Ame®ica? Is there any reason, a county that boasts a NASCAR track, a  LiveStrong Stadium* (insert Alanis Morrisette Ironic here please), several Walmarts a major shopping hub, drawing Cerner and Hollywood Casino, so many more ‘names’ with ties to lobbyists,  could there be a decent reason it has the highest infant mortality rate?

I’d like to know why our collective discussion on the education of the sexes has never progressed past the repressive agendas of the 1970′s?  Seriously, any discussion that begins and ends with abortion is purely a political sleight of hand.  So is the vehement Christian dogma that surrounds the idea that we are sexual beings.  Well, you are here, that means someone took on a squatter if even only for a few seconds of passion.  Get over it.

I don’t care about people’s repressive agendas, when they are standing in the way of true education.  We have political factions on each side of the much corrupt government who have not allowed our social politic to move beyond 1972.  Well, I am sick of your stupidity.  Frankly there are parts of the human experience that deserved to be explored outside the sex act.  Could we get your collective heads out of your pants long enough to just get down to simple embryology?

When we as a society become more concerned with the optimal health of individuals and tend to it, then it seems to reason we would live in a happier and socially healthier society in general.  Even if that is too much to contemplate how about just treating the majority of potentially fertile females in the population as if they may propagate the species.  If we look at this premise as a basic truism in life (because it is), then it would also make sense to begin a campaign of optimal feminine health.  Not only would this benefit the female but also any potential offspring.

I am suggesting that all women of childbearing age, be recommended a prenatal vitamin.   Neural tube developement takes place very early in pregnancy.  Having folic acid on board is critical for proper neural tube  developement. Most women don’t get to the prenatal vitamins until well after the tube has developed.  Many women don’t plan their pregnancies.  Why don’t we educate young women about the simple nutritional needs that ought to be met to increase the chances of a healthy pregnancy.

We have a wide body of knowledge on what constitutes a healthy environment for mothers, potential mothers and growing embryos.  Wouldn’t it be nice if we could put down the outrage over a court decision from the 70′s and talk about real world education?

Maybe these legislators could look into a first world problem that needs fixing, when they put on their wrestling masks and slip crap protections into bills.  Stand up for the little people who don’t know they might need a vitamin daily in case they wake up one morning with an unplanned but not unwanted pregnancy.  Women from all walks of life benefit from intelligent discourse and even a few of them out here could benefit from a Protection Act made just for them.

Then once you’ve tackled that, maybe you come down to a food kitchen and check out the malnutrition in the land you represent.  When you see that the people who come are regulars and they are bringing their children with them for their one meal a day, maybe then you can lean on your special interest groups for some favors.  See the children with the discolored hair and distended tummies from the chronic malnutrition.  When you serve there regularly, instead of just for a Thanksgiving photo-op you’ll realize these people, our people, get one solid meal a day.

If we could get a chewable multivitamin onto the plates of the children, and even the adults, you’d have the best chance of changing the state of their mal-nurishment. When you care for the homeless and attend to their nutritional needs you will raise the health of the individual and in turn cut down on the communicable diseases  and other diseases of susceptibility that will eventually effect healthy populations.

Wouldn’t it be nice if some of those big monster companies, like Bayer, or DuPont who are in bed with Monsanto would bed-hop to the American people and try to push an agenda of optimal health and well-being.  Instead they suckle the Monsanto teat and replicate their actions by foisting their bad medicine upon us with the help of their own personal senatorial pool.

fat dudes

I am MAM, I Do Not Like GMO Eggs and Ham

dr suessI am MAM

MAM I Am

I do not like GMO eggs and ham

I do not like them MAM I am

I do not like them in a court

I do not like them in retort

I do not like them in a jar

not in my car nor a candy bar

If I see them I refuse

Unlike the supreme court

Which does not recuse

I do not like them without labels

I don’t beleive Monsanto’s fables

I do beleive it is junk science

I will fight it with defiance

I do not like GMO eggs and ham

I do not like them MAM I AM

I wouldn’t feed them to a goat

Even if he’s filled with government bloat

I would not sneak them into a bill

For even legislators children will get ill

I do not trust GMO eggs and Ham

Nor do I trust the HR933 Scam

Roy Blunt snuck in the Monsanto Protection Act

With Barb Mikulski formed a Devil’s Pact

I do not like GMO eggs and Ham

I will march with you MAM I AM!

MAM is March Against Monsanto we march with the world May 25, 2013.  The world is ready to take back the collective table.  Who’s farm is it anyway?  Know your food.  You shouldn’t need a Ph,d. to know what is in your apple.

 

 

 

Coming in Hot

baby DuggerSome random thoughts on super breeding have been keeping me up all night.  Guarding my rarely used vintage vagina in the off-putting chance someone would like to use it as an easy bake oven.  I haven’t watched much of the Dugger 8³ is Enough Show.  I have seen enough to request a government finding on brain changes in the perpetually pregnant.

The mother on that show has developed a case of the sugar shits.  She is oxytocined out the eyeballs.  Hillbilly heroin users, this is not the same thing, so keep you pants cinched up.  You can’t surgically rob a pharmacy with a baby strapped to your front and not end up on the nightly news.

Let’s investigate Michelle Hereally Dugger, shall we?  She speaks in a baby, sweet, soft, whispery, voice, while wearing Mennonite wear, and hair.  I can hear her smiling as she talks, and I can see her smiling as she fights off dysentery.  She isn’t just a mother she is every Kindergarten teacher ever made, and she owns all their sweaters.

I am not sure how many babies she has had since the shows, inception.  However the number stuck in my head is 19, if I get that wrong then ding ding–your slot machine goes all cherries and you are superior in your ability to watch vapid crap.  I used to be you.

Now some sweet gentle woman like a Michelle, would tell you, that with each passing pregnancy the body opens like a gentle flower.  Readying itself faster and faster with each birth as it is accustomed to the rigors of the process of creating a new  blessing.  I would say it more like this as you increase the frequency of use with your baby maker you turn up the volume on that thing until it works kind of like a microwave.  Around baby number ten you are coughing those bad boys out maybe before they have even finished cooking.  Achoo-Ding: “the timer went off, we have an 8 celled organism. Jimbo call the NICU.  No Jimmy, it is time sensitive, can you just run out into the hall and  fastball that fetus down to nurse Betty.  She’s the best catcher in the whole state of Arkansas, birthing centers that is…no offense to the Arkansas Travelers.”

“Oh Jim isn’t it the cutest one yet?  After a few weeks in the incubator, we will be able to sex it, and then we can pick a J name.  Unless you want to go ahead and name it a gender neutral J name while we wait for the primordial kidneys to drop or not.  That might save some confusion in case I am lucky enough to get pregnant again.  We are working on that now between the episiotomy clean up, Jimbo will be plowing this fertile field once more trying to plant his lusty seed.”

“See, Jimbo, likes coming in hot! You tell Doctor Dropkin that as soon as Jim ‘finishes’ he can come in here and sew up the mess little baby J. Dugger made and hopefully he can sew little fetus # whose really counting anyway, there is just more to love, inside me.  Maybe that way I won’t have to feed it in the petri dish with a pipette until it is old enough for proper implantation.  ’ afraid of getting anything near his Johnbo Thomas that doesn’t resemble pre-shredded vagina.

 baby with 8 eyes

Monsanto’s Round Up & Walmart’s Rotisserie Chicken Make Meal Planning a Breeze

RoundupthechicksMadge’s cigarette stained voice clucked out, “You know we didn’t just eat it in a Tyson® chicken house in Arkansas, we are soaking in it!”

Walmart and Monsanto have teamed up to double down your Round Up® risk by end capping pre-cooked rotisserie chicken with Round Up® .  In a Walmart located right here in God’s-less country, Missouri.  Blue Springs Missouri, that is.

Why yes, little Virginia that is Blunt turf.  Roy Blunt the douchebag who Kraft®ed the rider for Monsanto’s Protection Act, a.k.a the Monsanty Claus.  The same man who married his way into agri-whoredom…Yes, Virginia that Blunt, not the other blunt.  The other blunt would be what the wiznut at the Walmart was smoking when the truth in advertising campaign hit Mo.

When I first saw the photo of the precooked succulent GMO’d rotisserie chickens settled in nice and toasty next to its natural broth, Round Up®, I thought:  Farm fresh, just like Mikulski, Blunt and Obama would want us to have it.  That chicken is so close to it’s now natural label, be are almost there.  California!  I mean Eureka!

The big wigs at Walmart were not terribly concerned well, until shit hit the twitter.  The Jackson County Health Department reported to Fox 4 News our local affiliate:  it is doubtful a  violation was made as the containers are sealed. If only the news at 11 had a story about Monsanto’s impervious jugs.   The activist who found this retail SNAFU was branded a woman with too much time on her hands.

As mother’s we are  The Guardian at the Gate of what our families ingest.  This woman’s service to her fellow-man, is a grace she willingly provides.  Not only did she try to have it moved, she went back after a suitable amount of time and tried again to move management into a reasonable course of action.  Bluntly denied, she harmlessly posted a picture of the Chicken Helper Display.

She did not contact the media, they reached out to her.  She will be Marching with the world to bring more awareness to the those who have not eaten themselves out of population on May 25, in KC.  The world is waking up, thanks to diligent warriors. Stay vigilant.

Even Monsanto has strict handling instructions for their herbicides, aside from not spraying what you are eating directly (this must be done by experts in the appropriate biohazard suits), do not store it near a rotisserie chicken warmer, I mean a heat source…Virginia, we are going to need a disclaimer lawyer on this…oops, I almost forgot what the Monsanty Claus is all about.  Never mind, Blunt made everyday Christmas for the Bio-Chem /Walmarty folk.  Standing on the weed free precipice Blunt turf, let’s distribute Hall Passes all around.  Kraft®y.

The following message was brought to you by the makers of outrage, hope and the letter R surrounded by pi.

Meanwhile I am over at cooks.com big pimpin’ my Killer Chicken Recipe.

chicken hot tubroundup ready chicken

Round Up PowerMAX makes a fabulous marinade and dipping sauce.  It’ll tenderize your meat inside and out.

 

 

 

 

 

The at Home Brain Surgeon

1. You don’t know anything about psy-ops…REALLY.

2. No, you don’t and further more…oh this will be good, #1 son used the brain surgeonfurthermore word.

3. You don’t know how the world works…uh uh, the verbal equivalent of a face slap

Motherhood is nothing but psy-ops, I thought in my best Charlie Brown parental wah wah wah, wa-wa-wa, wah wah voice.  Hate to burst your bubble, but all those years ago, when I told you I was an alien, you were never to speak of it, because the government would find me and take me away.  That your Dad was just an ordinary mortal with no super powers (okay, that was true) and that, he was jealous so he would niether confirm nor deny my existence as an alien.  Yeah, psy-oped, Biotch.

That my people could only come under the cloak of darkness because we were hunted by your government, and that when they landed we would go up into outer space and I would take you with me.  Remember when you awoke and asked why I didn’t get you up?  I said, I did!  How can you not remember, you had a blast?  We went to the intergalactic donut store…you went way back into your reptilian brain and you had that instant of recall? Yes, I, I, i do remember that place.  Yep, like a 7-11 in the sky, I confirmed. Well, sugarbooger, you, were…psy-oped.

I don’t know how the world works?  Meh.  Let me lay a little truth on you soldier.  The reason you use a toilet instead of crapping your pants, I am the inventor and I currently hold the registered trademark on one Diaper Fairy™.  A little known and long forgotten mythical goddess, who takes diapers from children who are old enough not to need them and gives them to wee little ones who do.  Remember, in one day you learned to poop on a pot and hate some non-existent kid. I taught you how to hate and crap in a hygienic place in one day.  You were not potty trained, you were psy-oped.

Don’t fuck with me fella, I may not look like I am packing, but I’ve been doing brain surgery at home without a scalpel longer than you think.  I have my license and maybe just maybe the government sent me.  I’m the original cadre.  Maybe just maybe I know a little something, like where the neurons are buried. Or maybe you’ve just been…psy-oped?brain-surgery

Guatemalan Worry People it Tastes Like a Village

Guatemalan worry dolls, a concSANYO DIGITAL CAMERAept so seamless and beautiful, it bespeaks a mothers love. They are given to Mayan children, little colorful dolls so tiny you can hold a village of them in your palm. Dolls that represent the worldly worries which keep children from sleep. Children tell their worries to the dolls, place them in a container under the pillow. A parent may remove the dolls symbolizing the worries are gone, or they may leave them to take on the worries of a new day. These dolls take worries away in the night, then you may wake care free, having slept peacefully throughout the night. A beautiful sentiment, it has all the elements of parenting I love, magic, myth and mostly the power of belief.

My little  girl found the story of worry the dolls and she fell in love. She decided that based on my current performance, as mother in residence, I am in need of a tribe. Ah, sensei the student has become the master. An act of benevolence bestowed upon Mom. I will take one batch of worry dolls. What could it  hurt. She picks a set out for me, that is teaming with dolls.  She is highly attuned to my stress level.

Driving home from our worry people purchase, it strikes me what a beautiful sentiment.  My lovely daughter is trying to take from me my worldly cares. Thank goodness for her.  And thank God, I can heap them on something tangible, like these dolls.  I am looking forward to resigning myself to the culture of the Mayan children and having a Hakuna Matta experience in my own bed without having to be acupunctured or meditated into a state of sedation, a new crutch, a new year, a new salvation. Hakuna Matta, good night and good-bye to my neurosis.

Two nights in not one for wasting time, I have heap the worries of three decades upon these ancient healing peoples. Two nights and I am awaking stress free. Mental health, has never been so simple.  These good people that live under my pillow in a balsa wood carved box are my newest salvation. Mama likes…

So what happens when you foist your cares unto the inanimate? I will tell you. The dog crawls up on the bed while you are out enjoying your kids last jazz concert of the school season. She eats the worry people’s home. Carefully leaving colorful drool covered people behind. Now I own Guatemalan Guilt People. They are homeless. I can’t heap my worries on them now. What kind of schmuck would I be? Now I have the stress of an entire Guatemalan village on my plate.

The dog sleeps the sleep of the true sociopath, no remorse.  No time for regrets when you are living in dog years.   The big lesson here is that disaster is bound to happen when people obfuscate their worries. It certainly explains the randomness of shark attacks and natural disasters.

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Just a Muther a Mother of a Bad idea

Just a mother! Is that the best insult you have Monsantohot organic Lobby Man?  Your arsenal is ill prepared for the can of organic worms you just opened.  Just a mother?  Sure, I could get up on one of those soapboxes about how we vaginally shit vermin like you for lunch, then go out and pick a field of GMO’d cotton before the Monsanto GI men come by to make sure we are not hoarding heirloom seed, like it is our precious.  I am sick of those, I am a saint because I can make endless lists of truths, rants.  To the rant.

In the war waged against the largest chemical monopoly, Monsanto in the food games another shot of stupid comes across the bow.  Yes, even dumber than putting Bacillus thuringienisis genes into the genome of a plant cell, so the plant would produce an insecticidal protein that becomes part of a plant, used for feed in livestock of the human kind.

Available at your local Walmart since August 2012, get your Bt sweet corn.  What could be dumber that feeding the American consumer and the world poison?  A few things, the Monsanto Protection Act for one.  It’s pushers, Roy Blunt, Barb Mikulski and President Obama, yes Pushers, because drugs are now directly inside the food. Causing teratogenic effects in the plants, animals, and humans as well.

Did you know that they now make apples with more tetracycline, and streptomycin?  They call the level sub-theraputic. These produce morphers, are responsible for the current trend of antibiotic resistance, that has left physicians scratching their heads.  Try to get in front of the Monsanto curve, before long our kidneys will be lost to the vancomycin tainted cranberry.

“The National Patient Safety Foundation has been pursuing one mission since
its founding in 1997 – to improve the safety of care provided to patients. As a
central voice for patient safety, NPSF is committed to a collaborative,
multi-stakeholder approach in all that it does. NPSF is an independent,
not-for-profit 501(c)(3) organization.”

Thanks to the NPSF when we are issued this medicine at the pharmacy, an agent of the pharmacy gives written instruction with regard to that medicine.  It educates as to the medications effectiveness, dosage requirements, possible interactions, additional instructions may include warnings as to alcohol consumption, the operations of motor vehicle or machinery, whether or not the drug is present in breast milk.  Then ultimately we are given the horrifying lists of side effects.  Let us not forget the allergen indicators and instructions about what to do in the event of a reaction.

Where do my patient rights begin when consuming an apple or pear, that has been infiltrated with tetracycline?  I have never seen the Rx symbol on my produce, meat, or corn syrup-ed soda product. Why? When pharmaceutical grade chemistry is ingested through a human does the pharmacological intent matter?  Shouldn’t there at least be a warning as to how many apples I may safely consume in a day without subjecting my unborn fetus to the teratogenic birth defects that tetracyclines are proven to cause?

I guess the authentic question is, when does food become medicine? It may seem ridiculous, but I juice, and that means I consume a large amount of fresh produce in a short period of time.  This is tantamount to industrial chemotherapy. In a child with extreme intolerance to antibiotics that apple becomes anything but a wholesome tasty treat. It can be an anaphylactic trigger.  Leaving a mother at a loss for what is the trigger in a child with extreme immune responses.  Do children need to be epi-penned to eat the national produce, or perhaps the industry will just make a Benadryl™ juice box, so lunches can be safely consumed without a school nurse standing at the ready.

At the end of the day, I just want to make an informed choice about what I am putting into my body.  As a mother I want to know what I am serving to my children.  As a human I want to see that fellow sentient humans are allowed to choose for themselves to eat freckle food versus the fuckled food.

So when a fellow soldier in the March Against Monsanto gets called out because she is rallying the masses and she gets the ‘Monsanto Process’ wrong for tampering with chicken.  I say this:monsanto man

No one should need an advanced degree to know what their chicken or apple is made of.

When you further degrade her for being “just a mother”, you silly simple under-educated puke, I say to you this:

Once upon a time, that was a historically significant title. Has one of your Monsantaists figured a way to arrive here without passing through the mom portal? 

Demeaning our origins is naturally, organically, USDA approved Monsanto.  However, you sir, ought remember from where you come.  In case you were out sick with antibiotic resistant strep or leveling up in World of Warcraft that day in biology let me help you with it:

You were born of a mother.vag birth

However, please,  call me when you and your boys create an extra-uterine terrestrial.  I will be interested to learn how you chemmed up the petri dish.  Some lucky YY mitochondrial super boy will be welcomed to plow the infertile soils of the fruitless world you are mechanizing for your corporate voters and Senatorial hand puppets.

I say this with all due respect:

Brother you just got served.

Now for Mother’s Day go apologize to the vagina you agonized.

Mother Nature is made of mothers by mothers for mothers with the purpose to be mothered.  We are the nurturers, we are the hand who rocks the cradle,  We are the hand that reaches across the aisle and makes a choice.  We will be making informed choices, until we reach the same tipping point of sanity that the mothers tipped in Europe.  To your knees, I will stop when you assume the compliant position.  Because I am MAM and most importantly I AM MOM.  Paid for by the citizen’s for rational thought and sane action.  We aren’t looking for much, normal would suffice.

 Moms Monsanto

 

 

 

 

 

Ethically Cleansed by the Hollywood for Ugly Folks

carrot hugMengele lives.  Roy Blunt and Senator Barb Milkuski in a tag team effort resuscitated him.  It was a valiant effort and I am sure the killing fields will be all the richer for their efforts.  Josef Megele, remember him?  The twin studies bi-curious scientist from World War II of the “Greatest Generation” fame.  He worked on bio-specificity too, just like Monsanto.  He was a first degree Monsantoite.  The angel of death at Auschwitz, while Monsanto is the angle of death in Aweshitz.

He recieved massive funding for his experiments.  He pioneered research for the Nazi regime in the field of genetics.  Scared yet?  If not maybe you have not studied Mengele, or the ever growing Monsanto parallel.

SS-Hauptsturmführer Mengele was a sober selector, as prisoners came off the trains. Arriving he gave out a call for dwarf, giants, special traits…just as Monsanto looks for dwarf s, giants species with unique characteristics.  Mengele singled out the twins, allowed to keep their hair, shower in a facility with running water instead of gas, they were treated special.  Given gifts like chocolates, candy, some fell under the impression they really were special.  Monstanto offers the candy up in blemish free pristine looking apples devoid of flavor, but Aryan to the core.  I hope you can see the two lines running parallel because in the end Monstanto will tell you that these lines will never cross.

That is as close to the truth as you will ever get from this company, Hell bent on population eugenics.  They are similar in that it takes a government’s tacit approval to pull off  horrors of this magnitude.  I think the major difference, the one that will go down in history as making sure these lines never do transect is…

Mengele and the Nazi regime, looked directly into the eyes of the people they killed, they hand selected who would go into the chambers, who would stand and have a bullet put into their brain, or which 14 twins would die in one night at the hand of Dr. Mengele.  He was present and accounted for when that atrocity occurred.  Monsanto is conducting it’s war anonymously with the help of special interests and Senators like Blunt and Mikulski.

Mengele’s children went under the knife with no anesthetic, Monsanto’s children do the same.  Every time I hear the word Round-up™ , it smacks of the horrors of days gone by.  It was global then, it is global now.  People couldn’t believe it was happening, then the world was awakened.  War has come to the table.  Our choices are our weapons.  Our farmers are suffering, our pollinators, our children we are being put into a chemical oven without disclosure, without notice without consent.

Round-up™, we didn’t learn from our history. Junk science has an industry Monsanto with a deep dark history, that rivals the despots of old.  If they are proud of what they do, let’s know their names.  Right now, I know a few…study up you too should know who is putting you into the chemical oven.

Now go mind your peas and carrots, while you still can.gardenI am Damnit Janet and I approve this message.

There’s Just One Thing To Say and That is Damnit Janet, You’ve Been ‘Satired’

St IF Cameo FinalA blast-o-cyst, whSt._IF 0001o made it to the light at the end of the tunnel.  Educated in human biology and the arts.  I am a provocateur of the human condition.  St. IF imagining the endless possibilities of our species.  Tolerant until used against me in a court of law.  The Patroness of Indelicate Feelings since the onset of puberty.  Going where no man has gone before…the recesses of my deeply convoluted mind.  You must be this_tall to ride the ride and you assume all risk.  Keep your arms and legs where you want them and feel free to roam about your own cage.

Monsanto Where Copulation Meets Copywright Infringement

Patent Pending Pig© and it’s Progeny©, it’s a Monsanto Monopoly.pig

“Can they do that?” Yes, Virginia, there’s Monsanty-Claus. We call it Congress, I am sure they have different names for it all over the globe.

“Are the pigs, Congress?”  Well, that’d be a metaphor, Virginia. There is a lone voice of reason somewhere in the Senate, Senator Tester of Montana cried out in the dark.  Some folks who were awake watching CSPAN actually heard it, but his colleagues were trying to get the GMO’s out of their ears and the lobbyists and special interests into their pants, so they were otherwise encumbered.

The United States Patent and Trademark Office has before them a politically charged patent. Monsanto is asking for ownership of the world’s common heritage.  It began with seed for  feed, like that of the Round-up® ready persuasion, now they are reaching over into the progeny that consumes their genetically altered feed. Breeding a super pig, engineering life to fit their technology through Monsanto products with an eye toward population copulation profiteering.

The application is for a patent of the pig and the pig’s progeny.  A piglets DNA is altered by bio-engineered feed.  Certain pigs genes are coded to promote more rapid flesh growth. If a genetic test proves the pig is altered by Monsanto feed, the farmer will be  found in violation of copulation copywright infringement. Making natures bio-transfer a profitable endeavor by Monsanto.

What that means in laymen’s terms Virginia, is something like this:  Say Senator Barb Mikulski ate macaroni and cheese from Roy Blunt’s table, and she liked it.  Let’s say Senator Barb then gets pregnant, while pregnant she continues to eat from Roy Blunt’s feedlot, ingesting sketchy cheese until she labors forth the fruits of a Senate pregnancy.  Faux food then introduces rDNA into the babies genome (genetic makeup) coding for rapid flesh development

Let’s genetically test Senator Barb’s super baby.  What you will see is a Monsanto trademark on what was once the human genome™.  Now, if Barb didn’t pay Monsanto a fee for using their genetic material she will be sued out the vagina by a giant industrial complex with special protection from the supreme court.  So really, Barb and her morbidly flesh dripping baby have violated a corporate construct for fornicating. 

  “Gee, does that mean we will have copulation rules on the books?”

I think it means we will truly be a ‘fucking’ police state.  Held hostage by all of our appetites from the table to the bedroom.  Monsanto wants a piece of all the action.    8th day monsanto

Stop the proliferation of GMO’s.  March Against Monsanto, May 25 with the globe and everyday with your wallet.

Check out the documentary Monsanto Food Wars: GMO Seeds and Animals @YouTube by Lily Films

 

 

 

Monsanto and the Stooges a.k.a Monsatan and the Worshippers

Don't get Stooged by Monsanto  People don’t talk much about evil these days. Evil discourse kind of gets a bad rap. Thank you Westboro Church you bag of dicks. Butt fuckery will never get to you, as no one would touch your brand of stupid. Stupid is currently the most under diagnosed contagious disease America suffers from.

It doesn’t just effect the inbred Kansas Baptists on the Topeka high prairie. That’d be nice, since it’s fly over territory, the new ‘Dead Basket’ of the United States of Monstanto. No stupidity just rang the hammer bell in the Senate. Congratulations Senator Blunt, for pushing through the Monsanto Protection Act, and you Senator Barb Mikulski.  She, who didn’t want the government to shut down, you chaired the committee on murdering your countrymen.

I guess I missed the part where the government was open? Was it open? Rhetorical, I withdrawal the question.

I’ve heard a lot of talk about seecastration.  Oh why couldn’t I have gotten my pic in the wikki, holding Blunt’s grossly inflamed vestigial testicles in a victorious fist pump for mankind photo-op? Because Blunt has been super busy, his low-flo testes are on loan to the heiress of the Kraft Mac-n-Cheese fortune. Bringing fake ass cheesy legislation that allows 3, yes 3, more bio-toxins to be added to our meat, our USDA, and our FDA approved meatstuffs.

I call it stuffs, because I noticed on the label, it says: now with added beef flavor?<–okay, there is no question mark. ‘Cept the one in my head. Do cows, no longer taste like cattle? Do they know they are no longer composed of tasty protein, but rBGH’s, and other alpha-numeric’s that aren’t funny enough to make this blog? I guess they ought to be happy, they have been given enough somatotrophins to be the perpetual teenagers, mainstream media wants us all to be. Dick Clark Bovine Industries Brand, the young meat/diary: it’s not veal but our cows don’t know it.

I am off point. The point is this Monsatan is raping the world with their GMO’s (genetically modified organisms), their Monsanto Protection Act which they formulated somewhere deep in the bowels of Hell, and the former executives who now head up the EPA, FDA and USDA, and their bought and paid for law makers. The former legal counsel that runs deep into cabinet positions in Washington. Sitting Justices on the supreme court who refuse to recuse when Monsatans minions and dirty deeds come before the high altar, I mean court of this land.63563_585713784780479_843227114_n

Please don’t take my word for it. I am mythical character, heading a think tank of one. Research for yourselves, then make some informed choices, like boycotting Monsanto. Demanding GMO labeling on your food, checking out seed savers, and supporting non-industrial farmers. Choice should be ours, but first awareness. Hurry because before you know it, soilent green won’t even be made out of people.

This has been a PSA from Damnit Janet the opinions expressed are mine. If you are in Missouri and you must smoke a blunt, please I implore you, SMOKE BLUNT out of office.14011_587852124566645_938416109_n

You Can Do That With Acupuncture? I’ll Take a Half Order

St IF Thumbnail FinalThere is healing in the stockyards. Unashamed, I take healing where I find it. A Western cattle building warehousing the Eastern healing arts, I enter as the grasshopper. Acupuncture meet the needle phobe. Strange visions of ancient tortures from my past must be supressed.

A  skyscraper where cattle flesh was traded and great sums of money changed hands congers up visions too. Men in cowboy boots and hats running through the halls with purpose, carrying Coleman coolers filled with prime bull semen. Rushing sperm from floor to floor with cooler-ed bull butter, just like organs are rushed to anxious recipients. The fate of a nations beef trade lies in the hands of these semen pushers. Deep thoughts on the cattle trade, regarding the secret relevancy of bull spunk in a free market society.

Wearily I enter these hallowed halls an acupuncture virgin. Needle-phobic from way back, my parents were big into medicine. Meaning, I got shots, like little Christina Crawford got to clean tile. Once I numbed a butt cheek with ice to point of frost bite so, my father could toss his dart of penicillin off the frozen meat of my arse.  End result he killed two glutes with one hypodermic. Life could be scary so you faked health, a lot.

Inside the building no cowboys, just history in architecture. I make my way to the floor of the ancient healing art. There was a tiny white haired woman with a controlled wonderful energy. She is everything she should be, precise, easy to speak to. She uses your name in every sentence she speaks. Exotically setting a relaxing tone.

Curious, I ask many questions. I found out she can read my entire life right there on the tongue. She looks at it like a crystal ball. Reading the flora and fauna she calls moss? Moss! John Edwards-ing my tongue dead to rites.  I laid down, sucking up the fear. Face down, top off, strange building, strange surroundings, what the hell…this harmless lady dances about, inserting needles with exceeding care, mystical music in the background. Viola’ she finds the needle that turns on off outer consciousness, and turns on the inner sanctum of healing. What the? Where the Hell did I go? I have not two shits to give…meditating Yogi’s got nothing on this zentopia.

The egg timer bell dings and in pops the little genius who had just conducted this 30 minute session in the ether’s. Grasshopper awake, collect your pillow drool. Damnit Janet, snap to. Can’t quite make contact with the body, chi hovering just outside the realm of my reptilian brain when I hear: “You know I get people pregnant all the time with acupuncture.” WTF!!! My brain screamed.  I suck up my excess drool as visions of bull semen-filled coolers dance in my clouded brain I slobber ”we didn’t do any of that did we?”

Nice bedside needle lady. We formed a bond over time. Now she treats my tongue for shits and giggles. She’s not just a fertility pusher she’ll lift your face with 55 needles. Can’t we just isolate the G-spot meridian to get that down to one needle? In the end everyone gets the same giant surprised looking face anyway. Sacred big O meridian, I just hope you aren’t hiding someplace with hostile nerve endings like the pupil.

Damnit Janet

St._IF 0001

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