Consequences Will Follow The Chaos You Created

When the storm finally dies down, you look back at the chaos left and wonder if you will ever be able to make sense of it.  In the midst of the insanity your questions and concerns were constantly ignored.  You were not worth the breath required to respond.  The lack of human compassion and an unwillingness to see past the ignorance that blinds them, has left you searching for the strength needed to pick up the pieces crushed in their obliviousness.

You have tried to stop their idiocy for a year, shocked that their philistine way of thinking is unbreakable.  You have acquired the knowledge and skills needed to force the answers you seek from them.  The complaint you must file forces them to make a choice.  Answer for their actions legally, or keep their heads in the sand with the false sense of security that you are vacuous, with the brain function of a slug.  Consequences will always follow the choice.

 

Follow Your Coyote

Their path you are to follow looks clear…It looks easy…It is like walking on air…For miles you can see the open space in front…Nothing clouds the view…you can see everything ahead long before you have to adjust your step..You turn to look over your shoulder…You can see a reflection of the path in front of you…Everything is the same… You start to wonder if this is all there is on this well-worn road…

The Monarch touches your hand for a split second, pulling your eyes to follow..He dances around the bright blooming flower that grows on the side…The humming bird drinks her nectar…You wonder…Can no one else see that beauty…Why do you stay on this path…

Spun360

Spun360

You continue on, every step becoming like last….The Coyote plays hide in go seek, watching as you walk…The flicker of his ears allowing the sun to reflect the morning dew as it flies through crisp air…His dark eyes searching your soul, wondering if you have the fearless craving to seek out more than you understand…

A small break appears in the cactus and trees that surround you…Sitting on a rock…the Coyote stares…waiting with his knowledge for you to follow…You stumble and you fall…You cry out as the cactus are sharp and rocks do not bend…

You stand proud with bloody knees and scraped elbows pulling the quills out…Next to you are those who laughed when you followed the Coyote to your own path…You will heal…Your mind is quick…Your heart softens into kindness…Your eyes able to see beauty they cannot….

And you will follow…What is Yours…

Leaving them to continue on What is Theirs…Only following their own refection…

English: Coyote at Ridgefield National Wildlif...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Ego of The Asshole

The adrenaline rush that comes when you wake into your life and realize the insanity is not a dream, is like slamming some Starbucks for an hour before you open your eyes.  When you know that your thoughts from years ago have been taken by people who are supposed to be your family, vomit mixes with your morning Starbucks.ASS

You have to be some prideful assholes to open someone’s mail.  A statement not addressed to you, and from a doctor office…God must have taken a day off, so the assholes stepped in for a bit.  Holding another piece just to see if someone will loose their property in another state, it is time for a hobby.  Doing it all while a mental member of your cult chases someone with his fucking insanity, distracting them from what year it is, it might be time to pull your happy ass’ out of retirement.

When you have to actually touch people thoughts, and steal their things to “GET” something on them, your brains have shrunk from all the “DRUGS” you swallow.  You are demented in thinking returning SOME shit after your greedy grubby dirty ass hands have touched it all will make us go away and move on with our lives.  You should know by now nothing ever turns out like you think it will.  Kind of like when you tried to force someone into a shelter by kicking them out with nothing a week before Christmas. Acting as if the child involved means nothing more than dog shit you stepped in on the way to the bar during your holiday.  That would have been so much easier…Damn that free will, it can be a bitch when you think you are gods.

Some assholes think they are the smartest thing since Al Gore invented the internet.  Looking up law suites and financial information so they can say “I know blah blah”, as if is some sort of magic crystal ball only they have access to.  Before running your mouth about who has law suites filed on who, pull your head out of your ass for two seconds and look up the difference between plaintiff and defendant. There is a thing called a dictionary.  Shit, try Wikipedia once in a while, the schools wont allow it for reference, but I think they might for the special assholes.

The punks and assholes need to take a break from raping someone’s thoughts, rolling around in stolen shit while naked and say the word enjoyed by so many…”Hmmm”, and figure out what zone three primary residence means.

A favorite “Hmmm” quotes from the “all-knowing ten-year old girl”.

” Does your son know about the drugs?  I hope not.  You say you’re not on them, but why would someone go to the pain clinic on Oct 26th?  Hmmm, I can only think of one thing, that’s where you get drugs.”

How did you come to find out October 26th was the exact date genius?….Sorry, too late to think up the lie…who would believe a little girl’s rant without a little backing…The assholes are not only so VERY smart, they are physic. 🙂

Ignorance On Your Angry Chair

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The idea to merge the camera and phone into one, is genius. I was able to take full advantage of it as I was texting on my way to our current domain. To “coexist” you have to acknowledge there is someone besides you trying to survive in this world.  When you ignore their existence because you do not like their faith, lifestyle choices or the way they express themselves, your ignorance can cost more than money.

I have used bad language a time or two through out my life. Some ghetto slang may even be spun into it depending on the situation.  I cannot say they are my proudest moments in life, but I am certainly not ashamed of them.  Some colorful F-Bombs are justified at their moment of birth.  Life stirs up some shit, conception takes place, and before you know it you are watching your baby F-Bomb grow into a giant as it hits your target.  It is at that moment, snowflakes of the ignorance turn into a blizzard, and you better take cover.

Most control their F-Bombs around certain people and situations.  Make it out of your thirty’s not having found yourself wearing the bracelets of a pissed off cop you met while running your mouth, you’re probably good.  Ignore someone’s existence by cutting them off in traffic, they might toss you a F-Bomb and go about their day. Have a crazy ex-husband who is not to be ignored on the road, and  the bombard of F-Bombs that bounce about might sting you. Watch the bounce evolve into idiots having a pissing contest with their side arms a few times, it will change your perception.  The F-Bomb wont kill you, the stray bullet might.

The poster child for true ignorance is the one who sits high up on their angry chair, filth dripping down his mouth from the afterbirth of racial slurs he creates.  His ears become born again virgins, his eyes suddenly blinded by the F-Bombs you throw trying to stop his storm of shit.  He rises higher fueled by that which he claims to despise.  His storm sucking your despair into his lungs, it has become his crack cocaine. You cease throwing, his crack gone, his angry chair full of pride and ignorance engulfing him as he screams for more.

Phoenix Bad Ass @ 80-Days -Bring It On, Punks!

It has been exactly eighty days since we sat at our McDonald’s for the first time.  If I had looked into a crystal ball ninety days ago and seen even a silver of the first few days, I would have taken the crystal back to the fraud who sold it.

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It was only a few hours earlier you had reached out to your parents in an effort to get your son out of the mess.  You were completely ignored.  You spend Christmas hearing you need to go to a half way house.  You start to see this reaches farther than you could imagine.  You wast days trying to get anyone in your family to see how insane this is. You do not know they are the insanity.

Orders of protection are filed. You are floored with lies they say so easily.  You start to put things together. Times and dates are making more sense. You ask for a hearing on something you do not care about.  You want to know if they went into your private papers.  You have your answer.  You cannot believe they thought they could spin it into something.  You keep waiting for Ashton from MTV’s Punked  to walk out.

You still get emails from out-of-state saying they hope you can get some help.  Your weeks out and you wonder exactly what kind of help they think you need.  You learn information that makes it crystal clear how this started.  You could kick yourself for trying to explain anything to your parents.  They are so past not helping, they are growing tired of kicking dirt in the hole they threw you in.  You start telling them to back off.

They keep coming at you.  The poor little Saturn that has gotten you everywhere deserves a break.  You get money to get your Explorer running.  They find out.  They lie to the tow company, it is abandoned they say. The email says the charge for day one is the same for day 10. They lied.  You tell them to back off.

An email sent to you sarcastically saying “what did we do, what did we do”.  You wonder at what point will they see this for what they made it into.  You will never speak to them again. They are concerned about your son.  They are asking others questions, trying to find out any information.  They want him.  You remember when they would not take him.  They will never see him again.  You know the picture they are trying to build of who you are. They think they know you.  You know they don’t.  You tell them to back off.

You watch your son as he opens the door for her, his voice deep talking about hot fudge sundaes.  You think about the past eighty days and know there nothing you cannot do.   You know God does not give you more than you can handle. He knows you are a Bad-Ass.  You tell them….. BRING IT ON…

Mental Song & Dance by Kult Kool-Aid

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NOTICE OF SUBMITTING PLAINTIFFS EXHIBITS THAT WILL BE POINTLESS IN THIS HEARING SCHEDULED IN THE WORLD OF INSANITY. HEREON AFTER CALLED FU8K FEST

Plaintiffs, Dumb Shit and Kult Kool- Aid, hereon referred to as Kult Kool-Aid or KKA,  undersigned, hereby submits Plaintiff’s Exhibits (which are attached hereto) to be used at the Order of Protect Hearing scheduled for 2013.  These exhibits include the following:

  • Complete and undisputable proof of an invasion of privacy by the plaintiffs, KKA.
  • Complete and undisputable proof of a lack of integrity and veracity by the plaintiffs, KKA.
  • Proof the KKA should be ordered to cut back on the Kool-Aid.

When I typed out the words Welcome to Fu8k Fest 2012 in the subject line I had no idea King Shit would want to read it over and over in front of everyone.  He was very proud of my work, showing it to every police officer who got the unfortunate call to the land of Fu8k Fest.  I kind of felt like he was not giving me due credit, so I started carrying my copy to show them first. I am not sure why, but KS was upset about my doing that.  After I gave him the honor of reading it at our first, of what will be many, meetings at our new “club house”, he lost interest for a while.

His new “show and tell” did not quite have the shock value of my Fest, but would give us a chance to discuss topics such as, what exactly is Necessary Personal Belongings, and what a judge means when she says “it’s yours” while paperwork is being handed out. He showed it to a few police officers, but I do not think he got the same rush as when talking about the Fest.  So he started working on an entire new song and dance.  I was flattered with the amount of time and effort he was spending on us.  At this point KS and I could not have our heart to hearts without our police babysitters. So I had the pleasure of discussing life issues with All Knowing Ruler of KKA, King Punk instead.

Even though is was an honor each and every time KP sent a message by way of the electronic mail,  I had asked him several times to use the old fashion telephone.  However, just like the other king he insisted on the written word.  I should thank him for that.  There is nothing better than a written conversation about my SUV twelve hours before they call it in as abandoned. 

When it was Dumb Shit’s turn to go to our new club house for a meeting, it was apparent she wanted this FU8KFEST she started to end, she kept saying she wanted it to be over.  Sorry DS, but but once a member of KKA, always a member.  The Kool-Aid fuses all member’s minds together.  They lose the ability to think for themselves, but gain the special gift to look someone in the eye and lie under oath. They also learn how to write fiction to submit in court.  Consideration for consistency in their submitted fiction needs to be discussed at their next gathering, as there is none.

At this meeting I knew what the chain of command in KKA was.  From the top… King Punk (not present for this meeting)  King Shit,  anyone who thought we needed to spend Christmas in a half way house without our son while his dogs go to the pound, and then Dumb Shit.  King Shit must have spent days working on the new song and dance for DS’s initiation into our new club.  I did not really care about the ban against contact, we were not planning on having lunch with her.  We were there to see the new and exciting show KKA was performing that day, starring King Shit.  They never disappoint..

Actual list of exhibits attempted by KKA to have admitted as evidence.

  1. Email from Defendant dated 12/26/12.  (Fu8k Fest)
  2. Photographs of 93 needles and syringes in the Defendants’ belongings.  (Yes, they are correct.  The DEFENDANT’S belongings, not the KKA’s, so I am not sure what they are trying to prove with those.  I thought we had one hundred, not ninety-three. Sticky fingers seem to go along with their very dirty hands.
  3. Various emails with threats by Defendants against Plaintiff.  ( One of my favorite parts is getting the big pack of evidence they put together so carefully. The very first sentence KS highlights every time from my Fu8k Fest is…King Shit do you understand how bad it is to slander someone to the police?  Someday I am going to have to ask him why he highlights that, but I am guessing it is not because he knows the answer. )
  4. Documents found in Defendants’ possession regarding profit and loss summary of illegal drug sales.

I am not sure if KKA ‘s paralegal really looked at the words of that sentence.  This was not found in our belongings they stole, but in Defendants’ POSSESSION.  I believe we would have noticed them taking it off our possession.  However, since they submitted them to a court as facts of profit and loss summary of illegal drug sales, and on our possession they must know something I do not. They may need to prove this one, as I am growing tired of the libel and slander. I remember exactly where that 22-year-old drug document was, so KKA’s invasion of privacy is becoming a problem.  I keep saying they need to cut back on the Kool-Aide.  But then again, we are all big boys and girls with free will, so to each their own.

BOSS IS BACK…

Boss shows his face publicly for the first time in twenty years in the photo at the top.  He is old school Mexican Mafia looking to step on the Cartels drug trade in the southwest.  Our son met him about five years ago while running heroin through the prison system in northern Cali.  They struck up a friendship in a biker bar after Boss stepped to a punk who was disrespecting.  They have had each other’s back ever since. The documents KKA submitted are from his youth in Chihuahua, Mexico.  He is uncertain as to why his numbers are that hard to decipher and was going to explain.  However, the defendants are long out of FU*KS to give about what KKA thinks.

Boss will be making future appearances in spun360.me

Fest Fun Continues On…

I pulled up to the house and the images of a week ago came fast and full of detail.  I was living it again, feeling the coldness and watching the confusion turn to anger in my son’s face.  The mob mentality that had been created from a perception was inconceivable.  The resulting damaged was something I would be dealing with months later.

Sleep that last week had been fractional at best, making it difficult to pull pieces of information together.  I was at the house for one reason, to get my son’s PS3 back from KS.

I followed the officer to the door thinking about how KS had told me not to come over on Christmas.  Apparently, they were going to have a wonderful time and did not want any interruptions.  I was not trying to upset my grandparents, but I was already a thief to them and I was certain that KS would continue to spin something from nothing. It no longer mattered what the truth was.

KS came to the door, his face showing a small hint of concern as I met his gaze.  Once the recognition of who at his door, out walked KS Smooth Operator.  The pretty red stone walkway should have been splattered with my puke while I stood there listening to his mouth run. Motioning with his hands, he explained to the officer how they had put everything I had in the house into my truck. The same truck that was locked and not on his property.

As the lies and slander start to flow from his “Godly” mouth he smiles, as he explains about my long history of drug use. I start to say something to him, and he calmly says my name, implying how sad it is and how he knows all about it.  I stomped to my car and hit the roof, took a breath and walked back. My mental state had been pushed to the limits by King Psycho, who by now was thinking he was untouchable.

The cool, calm, and collected “XANAXED OUT” KS continues on, sighing with a sadness as he tells how he tried to help another poor drugged out family member with the same result. God’s humor was in full effect that day as that was the same cop who had been on that call.  I am not sure if KS knew or just thought he was that smooth.

The officer doing his job, questioned me about drugs and the welfare of my child.  KS had already crossed a lot of lines throughout his play in my world.  However,  putting a question into a cop’s head about the welfare of my child is a line crossed you do not come back from.  Especially after he had no problem kicking him out into the unstable care of his “drugging  thieving parents”.  Once I told that to the officer and showed him the note KS left on our door, he did not say another word about it.

When I told KS I wanted my PS3, he looked a little surprised, even stumbled a bit in his smooth talk.  He says,  “Oh, that is in the room under the TV stand”.  Really? Did  you not just tell that officer everything we owned from the room was in the truck you broke into?

He brings the out the PS3 and hands it to me.  I walk to my car telling him I will see him in court. I am certain he was saying something smooth back, but I was sick of his mouth as it was brown from all the shit he talked.  I really just wanted him to shut up for a few days and leave me alone. I got into my car and started it, but I could not breathe.  I shut the engine off as the cop came over to see if I was alright.  I said I was, and he told me relax for a second before I tried to drive.  We exchanged Merry Christmas’ and after a minute, I drove away.

Now King Shit was starting to get very board with his own life, so he created a different universe in which to tell his stories. He has quite a few followers who drank his Kool-Aid, and even a couple that must have taken an extra cup.  Because in the real world…she is on drugs + she is freaking out + she backed into the police car…would equal “field sobriety test” not “they let her go”.  That Kool-Aid must be good…