Andrés Manuel López Obrador Schools United States President

I watched this video clip yesterday wherein Biden is very diplomatically credited for the changes in border policy. The most interesting content—in a two and a half minute package— wasn’t the spoken words.

Fox News didn’t have the decency to even mention his name in the headline, nor in the written paragraphs of video description. I have never heard the man’s name before. I have also never seen a United States federal press release translated into sign language, and I’m assuming that Fox News didn’t bother with the voice dubbed translation.

Government-Manufactured, Fuck Your Constitutional Rights, Bullshit Propaganda

There aren’t many rooms I could sit in and be considered a gun freak. I’m not opposed to guns, I used to be, but my perspective on firearms has changed a lot over the years. I’m firmly in the Guns Don’t Kill People, People Kill People camp now. I believe that unless more is done to assess, address, treat, and heal the part of humanity which manifests murderous behavior, projecting all of that onto an inanimate object and blaming guns, or any other weapon, for human shortcomings is shirking our responsibility to be better and do better. “It’s not that *I’m* a bad person, or that *you’re* a bad person, it’s the guns!” I could go on for far too long giving this context, so for now, I’ll stop with my personal narrative and move on to my point.

I watched a clip of a press conference with Rapey McBiden & his new General of Attorneys talking about an executive order on gun control. It was a very brief clip, but I could write an epic tome on the content. I’ll try to be slightly more brief than an epic tome.

First of all, executive orders are tantamount to Presidential Post-It notes. The Obama administration practically rewrote the entire federal everything with Post-It notes & cocktail napkins. It was really impressive and kind of amazing to watch. Everyone just acted like the Post-It notes were real, actual laws in some Bizarro Government Twilight Zone. But yesterday’s Post-It note on “guns” (maybe the least specific, least accurate, doesn’t instill a lot of faith in the legislative suggestions) was so toothless it doesn’t even have dentures. It wasn’t an Executive Order, there was no order. It was a televised brain fart. He just kind of said some stuff about “guns.”

The new General of the Attorneys, however, had some interesting stuff to say. It’s a very valid point he made about plastic and 3-D printed guns with no serial numbers and kits you can make at home. How’s the government going to regulate that? Can’t. So, how’s the government going to justify regulating and restricting law abiding citizens who access firearms legally, through the system as it currently functions? Only the above board, documented, tax paying purchases of forged metal, serial stamped, highly regulated tools will be *more* regulated, but the super off-grid radical extremist (I don’t mind it, but that’s what it is) homemade plastic/3-D printed weapons are as accessible as a BIC lighter and a Molotov Cocktail. That doesn’t make any sense at all.

Keeping in mind that I’m just barely to the right of center on this topic, I have to say I’m not a huuuuge fan of “guns,” I am a huge fan of Civil Rights. The Executive Post-It Note that didn’t contain an order at all, but hinted at the possibility of reforming absolutely nothing, highlights several Constitutional Violations and flat out disregard for Civil Rights; but I’ll focus on one that really chaps my ass, because it’s everyone’s favorite Get Out Of The Constitution Free Card.

The Saturday Night Live sketch absurdity of the slogan that the government should, “take guns out of the hands of violent criminals” is the most epic level of Government Manufactured Fuck Your Constitutional Rights Bullshit Propaganda ever, on several levels. On a purely superficial functional level, refer back to the plastic 3-D printers and shut up. So let’s dive a little more deeply into the real point.

That argument, to disarm violent criminals, all things being equal, just means you’re disarming the weak sauce criminals who got caught and therefore are not a threat to anyone. “Violent criminals” don’t get caught, convicted of felonies, and sent to prison for your moronic Disarm The Public registry; violent criminals cash government paychecks. But that also isn’t the point.

The point is that convincing the general public that brazenly violating the 2nd Amendment & denying a large population of people almost every Constitutional Right, is an incredible long-game engineered Civil Rights violation the likes of which we haven’t seen since Jim Crowe laws at voting booths, separate but not equal everything, and public lynchings in town squares. Because when you’re talking about the statistics of convicted felons, the people the government is so keen on disarming, you’re talking about Black & Brown Men.

It doesn’t take a lot of explaining beyond that point, but if you need any more food for that thought to grow inside your gut, think about the social engineering that the United States government has ever so gently painted with a light handed watercolor pastel for the past, what?, six decades? since the Civil Rights Act of 1963.

As a nation, we sat around pretending that The Emancipation Proclamation had an Obama Level of Executive Post-It Note power, when in reality it had a McRapey No Dentures Brain Fart level of did nothing. When warriors sat at lunch counters, refused the back of the bus, and went on national television at the expense of assassination, to say, “Hell no,” the Civil Rights Act was an unnecessary, and equally Unconstitutional national platitude of a cocktail napkin. People of Color didn’t and don’t need yet another separate and not equal 40 Acres and a Mule legislation which segregates portions of the population. We the People all need the laws we already have to apply to everyone. No new laws, just enforce the laws we already have. That’s not legislative, that’s judicial.

Too many people cash paychecks for writing laws (how many friggin’ people are in the Congressional buildings now anyway??), and have to justify those paychecks by writing lotttttts of laws. And too many judges cash lifelong paychecks while the Judicial Branch enforces fuck all nothing. Because the bigotry, the bias, the deep seated hatred in the human heart which brings Civil Rights violations to the courts, begging for enforcement, exists in the hearts of the humans sitting the bench.

So the Judicial System, which is the Branch responsible for enforcing our Civil Rights is *also* the gateway to being labeled a felon, and is therefore the branch of the government exclusively responsible for stamping a person’s Civil Rights Card with a big red rubber stamp of Violated For Life. That’s only the first half of the hugely messed up professional conflict of interest and whole-system failure in this one tinnnny point. But remember that first half when we get to the second half in a bit.

Take a look at those statistics & the way the penal code and Judicial System has changed ever so slowwwwwly and polittttely since 1963. You wanna talk about felonious collusion? How about the gradual erosion of the public, via the now privatized for profit human eugenics farm of the United States prison system. Black & Brown Men are disproportionately targeted & culled from the public, and shoved out the back door with absolutely no rights.

Taking the race and ethnicity filter off for just a moment, which is almost impossible to do, the Constitution does not have any stipulation that Constitutional Rights are for everyone except for someone who ever committed a crime. You wanna know why? Because the people who wrote The Constitution were revolutionary radical felons who committed treason by writing the document!! The entire premise of the Constitution is to protect people from this exact kind of total disregard for individual rights, and we’re all too busy drinking Starbucks to notice.

Here’s the second half of that two-part conflict of interest and What The Fuck Failure mentioned above: The federal penal code, as enforced by the Judicial Branch, is written on the premise that the time served is time served, equal and proportionate to the crime charged and convicted (which is a whole other pile of bullshit, but whatever for the purposes of this point). If a person has served the time, and been deemed rehabilitated and released back into public society, then the person has served their time and should be reintegrated back into public society with all the same rights and freedom as everyone else. It’s not catch, tag, and release. If the Judicial System is so ineffective that the time served isn’t time served, then there’s no justifiable point in prisons at all (newsflash, there absolutely isn’t a justifiable point in prisons at all). A lifelong scarlet letter definitely isn’t part of the deal.

The Judicial Branch is supposed to invest every work day enforcing Constitutional Rights. Our current system squanders lifetime appointments to the bench intentionally removing those rights in an effort to segregate and enslave large portions of the public, who are then, very conveniently, left with no right to vote.

More soon, much Love,


Disclaimer, growth plan, and rebuilding

I’ve noticed on the stats tracking that strangers have stumbled on this content, so I feel compelled to give a disclaimer. I can’t imagine that anyone is interested in the moment-to-moment daily evolution of the thoughts in my head right now; I’m writing this stuff for myself, not you… so if my journal is boring to you then just go read the package label on your toilet paper.

I’ve spent the bulk of the day writing out: planning for the next month to move out of the house (gave the landlords notice), the next 3-6 months build on the garden lots & bed designs, and a manageable projection for growth, cost, and logistics for the next one to three years.

I also managed to stain a few panels of a trash & water bin I’m gonna build next time I’m on site, and the furbs and I had an awesome day of bonding and continuing the work of rebuilding routine and structure which got stressed to the point of near FUBAR this past year. Solid day.

More soon, much Love,


Houses, and stuff, and healing

I used to be really good at moving. Relocating was just a throw a dart at a map and go process. Now the stakes seem so much higher. It’s not just moving; it’s a whole new life, a whole new structure and philosophy and definition.

I’ve never wanted to own a house, a building that breaks in ways I can’t fix. I’ve never understood the appeal, and I tried to adjust who I am for a long time so I could fit into that required structure & it’s just not who I am. I don’t understand the constant process of cleaning a house inside so the outside (dirt) won’t be inside. I don’t understand the process of having neighbors who are always one wall away… that’s not a neighbor, that’s a housemate, that’s double the stuff I don’t want. I like sharing my life with the furbs, humans always try to kill me and I’ve learned it’s not wise to try and share my life with humans who want to kill me. So this move isn’t just a move, it’s a constant process of resisting the lifelong force to be someone I’m not.

I start falling into that almost unbreakable formula I’ve been taught as a muscle memory solution to how I should proceed. I need a place to store my stuff? The solution to that is a house with a locked door and utility bills and air conditioning and plumbing and a mortgage! When I know the solution to that is the entire premise of the belief that I need a place to store my stuff.

When my kiddo took an interest in riddles, we spent some time talking about the construct of riddles. It’s usually a layer cake of complexity with multiple “right answers” depending on how you look at the world, and usually the better solution is in the first sentence or two. The belief that I need stuff at all, the belief that I need a place to store that stuff, is the problem. I don’t want a house, it’s just hard for me to let go of all the emotional attachment to the life I couldn’t do & the stuff I accumulated in an effort to have that life. The sudden detachment from everything is too much too quickly and that feels like dying, hanging on to all of it for fear of dying feels like dying. So, for now, the middle road that works for my antennae is to drastically downsize (did a lot of that) & put a small amount of stuff in storage while I transition from the indoor crappy life I don’t want into the glorious life in a garden I want. I have a card that fits in my wallet which entitles me to 83 million acres. I absolutely don’t need nor want a house. I just want a space where people will leave me alone and stop trying to murder me.

Owning stuff makes life easier sometimes, it’s expensive and inconvenient to go to the grocery store three to five times a day. Storing stuff in a house I don’t want is equally expensive and inconvenient. Finding the bridge between those two expensive and inconvenient miseries is complicated, but not impossible.

I’m almost as certain as I can be that I’ve figured out the way forward into the life I want, instead of just away from the life I don’t want. I keep listening to my body as the closest thing I have to a natural antennae. When I feel anxious, sad, frustrated to the point of stressed out about something? That’s my antennae receiving a message sent to my soul, “hey, dumdum, don’t do that.” When I feel happy, relieved, calm, peaceful, excited with a sense of urgency? That’s, “hey, dumdum, do that.” It’s a really simple decoder ring I’ve ignored for a long time.

I can’t heal the world’s problems, which is a frustrating truth to accept; but I can try to heal my own problems. Constantly yelling at the world, “YOUR BULLSHIT IS KILLING ME & YOUR BULLSHIT HAS BEEN KILLING ME MY WHOLE LIFE & YOUR BULLSHIT IS KILLING KIDS!” is the only thing to do sometimes, but my kids need two live parents for now so they can focus on becoming who they need and want to be. So, for now, my personal solution to that murderous world is to try and remove myself from as many of those points of murderous conflict as possible.

I’m gonna try to build a space where I can exist, in a way that makes sense to my antennae, and maybe that’ll be a space where some other people who can’t exist in the murderous spaces might be able to exist too. If not, it’ll still hopefully be a space where I can exist. For now, that’s all I can hope for.

More soon, much Love,


Hillbilly Pesto

I’m on a newsletter via text message town-cryer spree this morning, telling everyone the good news from my morning; so, I’m gonna tell you too:

When I was a kid, I was told that ground cover plant with the purple blossoms was a weed/clover and that I should pull it out of the flower beds. We used to pull the flowers and suck the nectar (maybe the first hint it shouldn’t be pulled and thrown away!). Anyway. This morning, I pulled a bunch from the flower bed, chopped it up with some dandelion greens and some olive oil, and it is the best fuckin salad green I’ve ever had in my entire life. Ever. Better than spinach, kale, and lettuce of any variety.

I added a little water and used an immersion stick blender to get a green smoothie consistency… added it to my pups’ food, they loved it.

Added a tablespoon of powdered coconut milk, and a tablespoon of sweet potato powder, and a teaspoon of dried ginger with the green smoothie until it was a thick pudding consistency, and I’m gonna make a dessert sushi roll outta that Jazz later.

Then… then!!!… I made pesto with it for lunch. Best pesto I’ve ever had in my life. Bunches of that stuff, sunflower seeds, olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, some dehydrated lemon zest from last year (though could use marigold blossom later in the season), and nutritional yeast flakes. Indigenous Vegan Missouri Pesto. Outrageous.

So, I did some research, it’s a kind of mint (lamium purpureum):

Sage and oregano are both in the mint family, and this stuff tastes kind of minty and kind of sage-y and kind of oregano-y all at the same time. Just grows everywhere for free my whole life and I never knew. Thrilled and irritated all at the same time. Getcha some if you’ve got it in your yard!

These are my mason jars of green bounty. Left to right: Some vegan burger flour mixture I made from beans and pulses, soaking up the green goodness. The coconut milk/sweet potato/green goodness mixture. The best pesto ever. I just realized this stuff would make a great base for a “Green Goddess” salad dressing too. Dressing salad with salad is the best idea anyone ever had.

More soon, much love,


Wildflowers, Marigolds, and ouch my soul hurts.

At this moment, my opinion of the state of Missouri, the government as a whole, the Church as a whole, you and yours as a whole (yeah, *you*), and the world at large as a whole, is a lot of pissed off to cover the hurt… which is only a reflection of my opinion of myself and my relationship with God at this point in time.

None of this four decades of lifetime & what I was sent into the world to say and do had anything to do with me; and none of my internal conflict right now has anything to do with anyone else. It’s some shit between me and God, and I don’t know how long that’ll take to sort through. My hopes and plans and intentions are still the same… when I’m sad, scared, angry as fuck, happy, excited with a sense of urgency, anxious, depressed, tired, whatever… my hopes and plans and intentions stay the same. I find comfort in that. I don’t feel like I’m chasing my tail as much anymore.

The plan is to pack the furbs and move south this summer. We’re gonna start a community garden if the community will let us. It’s a daunting task, I’ve never actually started a community garden. I’ve started a few personal gardens and managed to grow juuuuust enough food for maybe a meal or two. A meal or two, from the therapeutic process of digging in the dirt and throwing some seeds in the ground, is nothin’ to shake a stick at; but it’s not the impressive bounty that would instill a sense of, “Absolutely! Effie is an amazing gardener and should totally start a community garden!” My secret hope is the community won’t know much about gardening either (seems like if there’s no community garden there yet then that’s maybe true), and we can all suck at it together & learn as we go.

My specialty last year in my home garden was wildflowers & marigolds. I don’t know how much you know about wildflowers and marigolds, but I could probably throw a packet of wildflower and marigold seeds in the garbage, take the garbage to the dump across town, and somehow wildflowers and marigolds would still magically sprout and bloom in the flower beds outside. Doesn’t take any knowledge, wisdom, or skill at all to grow wildflowers and marigolds; except for the knowledge, wisdom, and skill to choose wildflowers and marigolds when you don’t know anything about gardening. So, that’s where we’re starting.

More soon, much love,


A book, a degree, and a life worth living…

The to-do list doesn’t exactly conjure an image of Julie Andrews spinning in a field with arms outstretched, but I often ponder what was, what is, what’s next, and what will be, to the tune of My Favorite Things. Whatever whistle, giggle, punchline of a joke I tell myself… whatever way I can carry myself from the start of the day until I fall asleep & hope not to dream, whatever sudden burst of song or TV jingle, whatever doodle on my three ring binder in Home Room, whatever secret handshake reconciles today as more than just the gap between yesterday & tomorrow… for now, that’s my favorite thing.

It’s been some years since I’ve done this, since I walked up to the open mic of the Internet, blinded by the spotlight & terrified to speak; please bear with me while I clear my throat, take a breath, and pray that my voice won’t crack too much. We’ll get through this together, somehow, some way.

If you have an extra penny in your pocket, tuition is expensive & I like to eat food, and I will gladly and gratefully accept the donation. If you can’t spare the pocket change because the world is nuts & your budget is strapped, I completely empathize and I’m really grateful you were generous with your time in reading. The old saying, “time is money,” is total garbage… time is life… your life is much more valuable to me than your money. Sharing your life with me, investing your time in reading this content, is the most amazing gift & I’m so grateful.

More soon, much love,