I Remember Mama! - Part 1 (a strange but perhaps familiar saga of clot shots, disinheritance, loss, and "toss")

bonus: how to git DISOWNED by yer jab-addled relations an' then git re-inherited BACK in less than 24 hours cuz said fambly member's BRAIN is so SCRAMBLED she plum fergot what she'd done!

I don’t alwayz git so personal but I think here’s one time at do it—an’ I’ll admit—it’s a bit cathartic—kinda like a public memorial fer a fambly dissolution. This’ll be in two three parts—consecutively posted due ta length.

NOW…. I know others are there with me—SO many famblies got WRECKED by the jabs an’ via the resultant fambly schisms surroundin’ them. If folks in a given household or even extended family disagreed on ANY of this stuff, the CovidCon magnified those cracks in the veneer 100 fold!

My unconventional takes on homeskoolin’ my kiddos an’ not jabbin’ ‘em was already looked upon as “rebellious” an’ soitenly “unsound” but the PSYOP of the CovidCon laser focused all that wuz somewhat suspect an’ made hardened criminals of any ‘n all who QUESTIONED “the science” (aka the psy-ants)!

So what seems ta be one singular “outlier” story (ourn)—is now near-universal; most’ve us know a relative who was harmed badly by the clot-shots, most’ve us have fambly that STILL “believes in the psy-ants.”

Recently me an’ my fam just got our first look in person (in poison!) at my Ma post-plandemic — I’ll tell ya, EVEN KNOWIN’ she’d been damaged, WE truly hadda shock ta see how bad off she wuz…

How many others have found close fambly members so very CHANGED by the jabs they barely recognize ‘em? …. So without further ado, git yerselfs a cuppa Joe, it’s a long’un!…it’s about…

REMEMBERIN’ MAMA…

What do we do when the Mama that used ta care for us (in all senses of “to care for”) has traded in her sainted patience to become a lifelong PATIENT herself?! —one on whom WE counted… can no longer even COUNT! Mamas we once knew are now strangers to us, unknown—not the people we so fondly REMEMBER—an’ they are unable ta care fer themselfs—let alone for the rest’ve us

Like this lovely ol’ movie starrin’ the great Irene Dunne (who sang beautifully too!), the fambly always STARTED with “Mama”—the matriarch who held it together thru thick an’ thin. in the film, “Mama,” as an imperfect human bean (who ain’t?), surely caused no end of upheaval an’ bickerin’ an’ strife when her dear daughters (an’ one son) were less-than-pleased with all her decisions—an’ yet she was the ROCK of the fambly, the solid foundation—the support! In this famous film (which started out as short story, then became a well-received play), Mama inspires Katrin (our narrator) to become a writer an’ manages to fund her son’s education, when there’s no money even fer covering books fer high school. Always thrifty, she “pretends” to have a perpetual eye on the bank account— but the little white lie is—there ain’t one!—no savin’s at all. They MUST be ever-so frugal yet not crush the dreams of the kids that later DO bear FRUIT! This ode-of-sorts to all Mamas that did their best under truly challengin’ circumstances—that’s a tale many’ve us would call FAMILIAR, no? OR…shall we now say—ONCE familiar… Mebbe it was a granma’ but back in the day the FAMILY was all-important an’ no matter “who wore the pants” in terms of decision-makin’, Mama was a figure of admiration and importance!

Sometimes it takes YEARS ‘fore we children (even as adults) appreciate some’a the decisions our Ma’s made—decades even! Other times ya grow up an’ say—geez, she did have that one wrong BUT bless’er fer tryin’. And mostly (MOSTLY!) we try to REMEMBER the good, fergive the wrong-headed, an’ eventually appreciate that Mama way more than we’d have guessed we ever would’ve, albeit over time.

BUT WHAT IF THAT LEGACY—that BULLWARK / that matriarch—is taken away prematurely—changed inta someone ya barely know?!—and most incredibly—convinced ta toss YOU away (you the lil’ apple that once wasn’t fallin’ far from the tree), like an’ old APPLE CORE?!

THAT about sums up the kinda crime perpetrated on our own fam an’ many others durin’ the plandemic…

My own poor Mama got stuck more times than a pin cushion! (noboddy’s fessin’ up with the dee-tails but we think it wuz either 2 jabs an’ 3 roosters or 3 jabs an’ 3 roosters).

My vershtinkin’a SchtepVater ℹ️ (kin ya tell I’m notta fan?) who imposed these ruthless “covidian countermeasures” upon my formerly healthy Ma—-jus’ didn’t know when to SCHTOP havin’ her—an’ the rest of their smug self-congratulatin’ little fam (includin’ my schtep relations)—repeatedly poked with each “update” an’ each “rooster.” That pompous patriarch wuz like a junkie who “lives” until the next “FIX”—’cept it didn’t fix nothin’—it sure BROKE my ma tho’ an’ snapped our fambly right in two.
(An’ now no glue kin mend it either!)

ℹ️ lemme say, ta preclude any wrong-headed accusations of my havin’ “anti-German” scenty mints based on my callin’ my rotten stepfather der SchtepVater — that I got German in me AND we have many (beloved) members of our “real-not-schtep” fambly that are also German—both jooish an’ NOT. Havin’ observed over many years that some “cultural” characteristics are real—fer better ‘er worse—an’ sadly my “SchtepVater” AND his own fambly exhibits the least admirable ones of his heritage, I call ‘em out as the gooseschteppers they are— obsessed with rules an’ keepin” “order” — an’ order-givers too— all’ve ‘em! My own part-German ancestry includes one great gran’ma from Bremen (my gran’pa always spoke lovin’ly of his own mother), one WHIP-SMART an’ witty great Uncle from Kentucky-via-Frankfurt, AND a dear-hearted an’ warm Catholic great Aunt from Berlin. I m’self lived in Berlin fer a time, schtudied German at the Goethe Insty-toot in both Berlin an’ NYC so I know a thing ‘r 2 from experience. (Hope that ‘splains my not-so-nice name callin’ here ha ha!)

So it seams (a sad joke!) that all the fabric of our lives started ta fray badly with her progressive deterioration. My Ma, once in in injection-damaged state, COMPLETELY lost the thread that needed ta stay wound (couldn’t even find the right end of it now!)—and as a result, our fambly unspooled an’ got inta quite the TANGLE which is where we are now.

Meow!… or more like Me…Ow! whatta mess!

Today, IT’s JUST US like Hatfields & McCoys! but with “Ma” (mine) on THEIR side—sadly convinced we’re the enemy in spite’ve our own concerted efforts to “rescue her.”

Once my ma got hornswaggled inta takin’ them clot shots it was—to my surprise! EASY for her an’ those around her (i.e. my schtepfambly) ta ban us, vilify us, avoid us, an’ insult us in a way I NEVER dreamed possible.

• What in heck is in those jabs ta so-TRANSFORM a person that they don’t protect their “own?” —THAT is skerry stuff ta contemplate!

My Ma held the fambly together fairly well —all ‘til she got all jabbed up at which point she herself ain’t holdin’ together too well!

Speakin’ of MOTHERS in the BEST way possible (after all there’s even a holiday named after ‘em!)—in the BEST way we’d all like ta REMEMBER ‘em - here’s a TRULY oddball cover of the ultimate Mama-Love Song, Mammy! — yup, an improbably groovin’ take on William Frawley’s — un huh—that’d be Fred Mertz ta ya Lucy fans!— original hit made famous by the great Al Jolson.

Thanks for the MEMORIES…?

Pre-jab, my own “Mammy” always used ta remember birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, an’ came ta visit at least annually, always bearin’ gifts (some dubiously commercial — it took literally a few YEARS ta git everything “Frozen” out of our apt. and inta the give-away bin fer example!….BUT in spite of my distaste fer “freezer burn!” an’ other such-like, the effort counted fer sure ). It’s the THINKIN’ of YOU aspect! She’d send nooz articles (clipped from the NY Times & Time Magazine!) on topics that she figger’d might interest my girls. She got on the horn regular-like ta check in on us all—specially, natch, the “goils.” Every so often she’d help out with a “special” gift—like good figure skates fer my younger one when the 2nd hand ones we’d gotten just warn’t cuttin’ it….or a special art book fer my older’un who has a taste fer the teeriff-ic but spendy tomes by “Taschen.”

Always, when we called her ta check-back an’ say hi, she answered with alacrity—glad ta hear from us! She typically “kvelled” (i.e. gushed) over every drawin’ or handmade present my daughters made for her no matter how wonky they looked like! HAVIN’ a gran’ ta make prezzies FOR meant sumthin’ too!

Losin’ ALL OF THIS—my girls, havin’ nobuddy else outside our immediate fam of 4 keepin’ ‘em in mind (‘specially since a pair of dear elderly friends that doted on ‘em got offed, both ‘ve ‘em, in Long Island nursin’ homes durin’ covid-con proty-CULLS)—means they have kinda been left in the dust—or with—literally DUST! cuz:

It’s as if a DEW hit my Mama an’ dustified HER—no joke!

hollowed out car — Lahaina 2023 (no WONDER they schtopped makin’ bright blue cars y’all!)

An’ yes, PHYSICALLY folks were changed (aged turribly!) by those dastardly injections…

My Ma, she’s WAY more GRAY now—not just the hair, even her SKIN looks grayer than a Canadian Snow Goose! She’s a slow movin’ target too! It takes as much time fer her ta get ‘cross a room then it takes fer dust ta settle on a credenza!

See, the Mama I ‘member, even in relative newish “gran’ma role” after her own Ma (my dear “bubbe”) died at 95 thanks to Vioxx! (‘fore the black box warnin’ came out) — MOVED! an’ quickly too! No gray blob of settled protoplasm wuz she, nope, she wuz an ACTIVE an’ contributin’ member of the fam an’ of society too! — she gathered no moss as they say. Even after she “retired,” she wuz a docent at a local art moo-see-um, an avid reader who’d spend HOURS lookin’ thru books at the local library sales. She wasn’t all “gray,” an’ she surely wuz NOT SENILE! an’ NOT SLOW! an’ NOT in ANY WAY DISABLED! Feisty ‘n perky would’a described ‘er. Up the steps, down the steps chasin’ after her frisky doggies (usually ta grab back the hair clip or fragrant empty food container they’d nabbed from a dresser or the bottom of a trashcan—er so it goes with untrained pooches…but at least it kept her on her toes…)

Sure my Ma wuz pain in the neck sometimes (jus’ like in Irene Dunne moovie I’ll add), but in spite’a her faults (an’ nu? who duzn’t have ‘em)—she definitely had VITALITY—now sapped from ‘er as if by a danged Dementor! Plus, as I said, she was a fairly decent granny ta my girls ….

So boy golly did that all change with them clot shots…

Fergettin’ to remember…

Birthdays were now (in her new fuzzy normal…) ALWAYS FERGOTTEN as were anniversaries, graduations (my eldest), even holidays! In 2022 one’a my girls actually gotta Valentine’s Card from her— in June!— I’m still scritchin’ my head over that one, but oddly it was the ONLY holiday card that’s come since her jabs. Also, it used ta be if my younger one performed (in public / professionally or even in a recital ‘er sumthin’—the little nipper sings, dances, duz some actin’, etc….) then my Ma would always wanna see a photo ‘er two, git a copy of the program, watch the viddeyo—but now? NOPE! No curiosity!

fergettin’ what ta remember….

Of COURSE I’m not one ta rudely remind ‘er ‘bout fergettin’ these events ‘er milestones fer the most part unless it comes up—cuz it’s not ‘bout gifts anyway—but it’s the call, the card, the “bein’ in the thoughts of”—that holds warter here-’bouts.

Not havin’ yer only gran’ remember yer birthday with a call or card—not havin’ yer only gran’ma even be able ta “hold in mind” a special event ya might mention—is kinda deflatin’. For my girls, havin’ their only gran’— who was NEVER senile ‘fore she got her clot shots (Alzheimers doesn’t run in the fam here…)—FORGET literally who you are — is kinda skeery an’ MORE than kinda DEFLATIN’.

She used ta recognize our voices on the phone—now it’s “Who am I talking to?”

YET…still….

This particular tale above that I’ve chosen here “a’ purpose;” as I wrote above-ways “I Remember Mama,” was a famous classic fer good reason! In America an’ in so many other places too, most of us came from immigrant famblies—startin’ anew, Mama just HAD TO BE a rock! A solid foundation. An’ that is why this story went from a popular short story to a famous play to a Hollywood film an’ then on to becomin’ an’ on-stage musical with top-notch Music & Lyrics by Rodgers & Charnin!

This particular classic story wuz about a Norwegian family that settled in San Francisco—but it was also a tale of this entire nation! A nation held together by famblies an’ the Mamas that kept those famblies thrivin’ under better or worse, wuther Irish or Italian or Chewish or German or Swedish an’ so on.

SIDE NOTE re the above show poster: I’m’ma full fan’a both Richard Rodgers & Martin Charnin an’ I even like Liv Ullman as an ACTRESS (in Berman films!), but I cain’t help pickin’ a lil’ pack o’ snide here wonderin’ ‘bout what the “moosical” version of “I Remember Mama” must’a sounded like starrin’ the otherwise VELLY talented but moosically velly (VELLY!) TONE DEAF Miz Ullman! When her singin’ (best called squeakin’ in rhythm?) career was “jump started” in the TRULY regrettable moosical film of “Lost Horizon”—the formerly non-woke an’ once enjoyably wise-crackin’ Bette Middler famously quipped, “I Never Miss A Liv Ullman Musical!” WHY oh why they cast this un-moosical laydee in a singin’ role AGAIN makes me scritch my head! tee hee…

The Mama’s role is ta make sure the fambly duz not fall apart no matter WHAT comes their way. WHAT tale do we tell today when the Mamas are felled themselves SPLINTERIN’

Yes, Papas count lots too—but MOST count on the Mama to keep the peace, wipe away tears, nourish ‘n nurture, an’ generally hold things together like GLUE! Like the eggs in a cake! We gotta LOTTA ruined BATTER here now! (Many’ve us!)

So / ANYWHOO…it’s come ta my mind that it’s really a SEARCH & DESTROY mission here—the INVERSE of “takin’ care of” Momma is: “takin’ care of” Momma (the other meaning of the phrase, same words):

once it was an OUTRAGEOUSLY preposterous conceit to “take care of Momma”—NOW? it’s the new normal!

WHEN you DESTROY a MAMA—an’ remember that all gram’mas were mamas once!— in whatever way such as gettin’er JABBED UP (fer her own “protection”)—OR WHEN you lock Ma or Gran’ up in a Care Home/Nursin’ Home an’ keep fambly FROM her (fer her own “protection”) an’ DESTROY the poor woman in body AND spirit in the name of “protectin’ her” fer that matter…

…in truth yer layin’ a HARD BLOW onta MOST famblies that NEED both their Mamas & their Gran’mamas dearly!

Of COURSE that wuz the plan…. THE BLOW (we gotta see) is also on the FAMILY !

Y’all see it now? I sure do!

The WHO is on it! the WEFfers too! It’s “da plan, ma’am” ta destroy the fam, Ma first! Kick out that sturdy foundation! One “jab’ll do it!” Schtep right up, “Mama” or “Gran’ma” comes first! (front of the line!)

🎯 MAMA is the TARGET now 🎯 !

As y’all know—I like ta “mix it up” a bit when it comes ta DJ’in’ this stack so here’s the mahvelous Billie Holiday singin’ the classic tribute ta “Momme’s” everywhere—”My Yiddishe Momme!” (A classic that not only joos but gentiles enjoyed on the airwaves fer YEARS! It’s a “bute!”)

Introductions…

Without further ado—first, meet the Ma I “remember”—shortly ’fore her jabs—

They used ta say “one dab’ll do ya” (that wuz fer library paste, Bryl-Creem ‘er even whipped cream on yer pie!—a little went a long way!)—But now? It’s ONE JAB’ll do ya..
Thus my Ma:

a once petite feisty laydee who was best described as:

a. bubbly—always enthusiastic, always chatty, always attentive (includin’ to her gran’daughters / my girls)

b. curious to a fault—this retired journalist an’ grade skool teacher was the lady that’d drive ya nuts if y’all went somewhere cuz she’d be askin’ the docent or tour guide SOooo many questions an’d be takin’ SO many photos (“snapshots”) an’ she actually used ta take NOTES on tours (with a ball point pen an’ a small spiral notebook stuffed inta her insanely over-stuffed purse)

c. energetic! — only a few months ‘fore the plandemic (lockdowns were enforced on her by my rotten Schtepvater) my ma was literally runnin’ up & down steps, chasin’ after her somewhat untrained doggies (2 of ‘em at the time, now just one’s left…), takin’ them pooches out for “walkies” and, in theory, existing as livin’ proof of an imaginary science experiment showin’ the relationship graphed ‘tween EACH cup’a cawfee drunk (which was many in her case!) an’ the resultant energy level.

• She was fulla spunk! buoy’d up by Folgers & Maxwell House!

BUT NOW….I have (skerry monster preview alert!) THIS?!

Presentin’ My Ma today— nearly UN-WRECK-a’-NOISE-ABLE! —as cubistically disjointed as a Picasso with all the sadness of his Blue Period an’ NONE of the allure… (an’nuther “before” pix is below) SO this is what I an’ my fam saw after a looong wait…

a cameo…. captured August 2024

My girls say it looks like she MELTED!

(Now, hopefully, ye kin see WHY the long lead-up as to the LASTING importance of Mothers! Thus makin’ ‘em NOT last…WRECKIN’ ‘em like this—is really devious!)

Sadly, it’s like they rearranged her face. Every feature slack, sunk! MASSIVE new n’ deep WRINKLES that never were there (a Wrinkle in Time?! NOPE, it wuz Purdy Darn Quik!) Me, I still stick with the high-concept of a Picasso-like rearrangement (derangement) of her face. (Or the result of one bout in the ring with Joe Louis or Rocky Marciano or both tag-teamin’ against her.)

In less than FIVE years (since we last saw her)—includin’ a long hoss-spit-all stay follered by a few weeks long “aftercare” stay at another (grift) joint due to her unidentified “incident” (which took place right after the 3rd “rooster” but of COURSE had nuttin’ ta do with it!) — she is ANOTHER PERSON ENTIRELY. She’s aged like 20 years an’… I BARELY KNOW this laydee….

This is NOT the MAMA I ‘MEMBER!

Were any of the jabs she got even saline or was it all just a clockwerk series of medium-toxic doses, all cumulative in their harmful effects? We’ll never KNOW!

WE TRIED, THEY LIED…

Durin’ lockdowns, after much effort on our end — literally months of us beggin’ her NOT ta take the jabs which we KNEW were comin’ down the pike, KNEW were gonna be “trouble”—an’ after my literally sendin’ her HUNDREDS of pages of print outs by mail all about the dangers of mRNA an’ of jabs-in-general, ‘bout the auto-immune condition where your body attacks itself after such “interventions”….—I kin say at very least we TRIED… HOWEVAH…

…my evil “SchtepVater” who’d make Darth Vader look like cute child actor Gary Coleman.. took her in fer her first clot shot. An’ WHEN?

ON. HER. BIRTHDAY.

Surprise, surprise! an’ of course he LIED tellin’ her it wuz both…you guessed it—SAFE an’ EFFECTIVE…

SOME. BIRTHDAY. PRESENT.

Watch this ‘un—it sez it all!

JAB NUMBER 1:
Happy ‘Effin’ BIRTHDAY?! —yes an’ oh my what a GIFT!

IMAGINE the GIFT of her first COVID(con) CLOT SHOT bein’ a frickin’ BIRTHDAY PRESENT?!
How INSANE an’ cruel is that y’all? The GALL of my SchtepVater knows no bounds!

🎁 The GIFT that kept on GIVIN’! 🎁

My ma was SO knocked out by the shot that day she could NOT come to the phone for us ta wish her a Happy B’day when we called. She wuz PASSED OUT!

But we were NOT told she got jabbed (KO’d) that day—nope, we were kept in the dark—”they” (i.e. da schtepfambly) KNEW we were against it (we kooks! crackpots! we CULT members!—oh yup, all we “disbelievers” are in a CULT, lol—they actually told us that!) So we had ta deduce for ourselfs over the next few weeks AFTER that “special day” that her bee-day was the day she got STUNG — because she was UNABLE TO TALK for all that time—for TWO WHOLE WEEKS!

Everyone wuz MUM ‘bout my MUM!

For those TWO WEEKS she was comatose—not allowed ta come ta the phone AT ALL any time we called, so the Happy B’day wish “message” was “supposedly” relayed an’ “conveyed,” an’ we were TOLD she’d talk ta my girls when she was ABLE. (ABLE?! WTF?!)

Gaspare Traversi “The Fainting Spell” 17th C

AFTER the TWO WEEKS passed my ma could talk once more an’ wuz “alert enuf” ta speak on the ☎️ “amici” ☎️, BUT she was NOT THE SAME Mama I remember. NOW she wuz really fergettin’ stuff (even stuff we’d just TOLD HER seconds before) an’ slurrin’ her words like a drunken barmaid—sumthin’ she’d NEVER done before!
THEN we figgered it out fer sure—it HAD TO BE the jab….

We tried ta pry it outta her, to confirm that wuz what had happened—but Mum wuz Mum at that point herself… always changed the subject when asked…

In hindsight, THINKING OF all the documentation we’d sent her way—we NOW wonder IF she even got ANYTHING we’d sent to her (the medical publications). ANY sane person lookin’ over the hundreds of pages we’d printed out an’ sent would have had CAUSE to PAUSE. Plus me an’ my girls had even CRIED individually an’ collectively on the phone talkin’ to her when the jabs were first released—BEGGIN’ her to—no matter what—NOT TAKE the shots. Had she NOT seen anythin’ we’d sent (or just mebbe a selectively extraced page ‘r three…then of course we’d have sounded like the irrational kooks they all think we are… hmmm?!

I wonder….

My “always ethical” SchtepVater CENSORS an’ EDITS all that she gits—wuther via snail mail or email (which he reads FOR HER—aloud!). Initially there was an’ understandin’ that she’d be allowed ta at least LOOK at what we’d sent…but perhaps they didn’t honor their word for…”that greater good”—i.e. THEIRS?!

Mebbe ALL we sent, all the research, ended up in the circular file, never passin’ by her eyes. I’ll never find out…

Miss MerEYEs’d

BELIEVE….believe…believe!

My Ma’s been told—nay TRAINED—to BELIEVE that DOKTURDS are like the ALL-KNOWING ORACLES of TRUTH. It’s kinda like hypnotism—dazzled by them sparkly MDs after a name or is it the polished gold-toned office pens that “scribe scripts” with such beautiful illegible abandon? REALLY…it’s almost like some kinda crackpotty magnetism…they are DRAWN to TRUST THE EXPURTS as if they were GODs…Yogis?!

So my schtepvater (a dokturd with an Emm Dee after his name AND a gold-toned pen in his shirt pocket) ALWAYS DECIDES FOR my MA—as an “expurt” — a TRUSTED EXPURT no less.

He makes it clear—he’s told her in no uncertain terms that I / Daisy am a WRECKLESS IDIOT who has JEOPARDIZED my own fambly in not EMBRACIN’ the MEDI-CULL MARVELS known as VAXXINES!

An’ also—-I KNOW NOTHIN’! NOTHIN’ !!!! (this is repeated like a charm…or more like a curse!); three count’em! master’s degrees have I but none in CHEMISTReeee! an’ no “MD” among’em so obviously I know…NOTHIN’! (nothin’ nothin’ sing it again in 4/4 time…)

But he — the all-seein’ Svengali! — knows ALL!

TRUSTIN’ ONLY the EXPURTS!
(a 🎼 “con-position” 🎼 played round the world!)

So whatever I sent my Ma’s way—no matter how long it took me ta compile ‘n print that stuff—wuther it GOT to her or NOT—were considered mindless (nay DANGEROUS!) words from a mere performer (acteur, sometimes-director, chief cook ‘n bottle warsher—an’ taker of prat falls…) — my entire profession bein’ dismissed as you’d swat a fly….. cuz the promoted CON-position wuz ONLY to listen to EXPURTS…

In my SchtepVater’s world there are ONLY dokturds, lawyers, an’ accountants (nope, not even Indian Chiefs tho’—that’s a great Hoagy Carmichael tune tho ha ha!)…all others were (in my schtepvater’s myopic eyes) subject to his super-SILLY-us approval!

So this guy (who NEVER had anythin’ nice ta say ta me—evah) could NEVah pay any mind ta any “medi-cull opinions” comin’ from moi — no matter how well-credentialed or distinguished the SOURCE of my info.— cuz if it came from me!, a mere “ahrteest”—it wuz da BUNK!

HOW MANY FAMBLIES ROUNDLY DISMISSED helpful — arguably life-savin’— INFORMATION/ STUDIES / TESTIMONIES offered to ‘em in GOOD FAITH because those sharin’ that info were not—themselfs—DOKTURDS? “certified” EXPERTS?! Methinks… a LOT!

• An invisible CON played on most folks was ta make ‘em think that ONLY EXPERTS were allowed ta have OPINIONS & gawdferbid—be gifted with COMMON SENSE? MESSAGE to da pee-pull: DO NOT USE YER BRAIN!

the special bow tie denotes expert-TEASE! do YOU speak “expert-tease?!”

My SchtepVater (a man of unmitigated ego) dismissed ANYONE but an EXPURT that met his “gold standard.” 🌟

🌟 GOLD?! or FOOL’s GOLD?
ALL studies had ta be “peer reviewed” in a known journal of dis-STINK-shun! Even the SOURCE mattered. Clueless that the Lancet & the BMJ & JAMA have been totally bought ‘n sold ta Big Pharma fer decades (at least)—an’ clueless that the anti-ivermectin✨study published in such hoity-toity journals wuz written by two PORNOGRAPHERS! —his angle wuz that only the likes of these famed pub-lick-kay-shuns an’ the TOP pun-ditz from universities like “HaHaHar-vHard” or John Hop-KINs or MIT — had weight. If it came from, say Baylor, or U of Idaho or some lesser-known insty-2-shun or journal—it wuz BALONEY. If it came from Children’s Health Defense it was worse than BALONEY it wuz full-out GARBAGE an’ thus went straight inta the circular file! Ah, trustin’ the EXPURTS…. the Benny-FITS are manifest!

✨ not gettin’ inta the IVM bad/good controversy here!

WHY WERE SO MANY FOLKS LIKE THIS?—SO COCK-SURE OF THEMSELVES? SO SMUG? an’ yet… SO DUMB!

I’d love ta say his “High(n)-Ass” the Dokturd / my Schtepvater wuz an exception to the rule of a-priori disbelievin’ all except curated Big Pharma “expert” testy-money — BUT nope, ‘twas NOT just him by a long shot. Not just dokturds either!

Many a professional—not jus’ those holdin’ a deadly “prescription pad” but those with JD’s an’ MsEds an’ PHdeez an’ many a regular human with no degree of ‘effin’ COMMON SENSE (!) were ALL completely, hopelessly CONVINCED that only the Covid™ EXPURTS could be & should be trusted; an’ anythin’ else wuz pure FUDGE!

Of COURSE even we outliers on the OPPYSITE side of the conversation also trusted SOME “experts” ourselfs BUT (but but!) as we saw how the CON-train (CON-trail choo choo too!) was movin’ along—we could change courses—an’ often DID! We the “frosty” could at least try ta DETECT the BS an’ reject those we once trusted—some whom we initially “thought” might’a been honest-injuns but later we found ta be ruthless “Indian Givers” (like some of our colonists that cheated ‘em, I’m sad ta report)—those “pun-ditz” that ended up misleadin’ us all (Woo-Hoo-Han anybuddy?) or leavin’ out stuff as gate-keepers.

THE DIFF?

OUR thinkin’ (on the whole) wuz still at least somewhat FLEXIBLE—but soooooo MANY FOLKS became fully entrenched in this BIZARRE game of “EXPURTS”… which wuz kinda SNOBBISH if ya think of it.
I mean why only M-Dees an’ PH-Dees?

The “CULT of the EXPURTS” didn’t used ta even EXIST!

Why Will Rogers, a fella my gran’parents admired muchlly, wuz a part-Cherokee and’a fully hilarious vaudevillian performer who did rope tricks, ran a huge charity, an’ had a VALUED opinion on jus’ ‘bout EVERYTHING! Back in the day folks really LISTENED to him—on every topic!

Also…
It used ta be in NewYawkShitty—my home—everybuddy wuz an EXPURT!

WHERE did all that GO? Every CABBIE wuz a philospher!
An’ THOSE expurts were ALSO a LOT of FUN!

a “REAL” NYC Expert! —the hilarious BROTHER THEODORE (Theodore also a “cherman chew”—a survivor no less!—but ZO unlike my schtepvater in EVERY way—a brilliant comic light this ‘un!)

Herr SchtepVater the all-knowin’ all-seein’ Dok-turd is/wuz SURE he knows/knew what is BEST for EVERYONE!—not just my Mama—so I hope that bites’im where he sits! (As an aside, this pompous man, when asked his profession, commonly joked that “he gives gas” fer a livin’ — the only joke he’s EVER made which is a kinda twisted “brag” fer a German Jew that lost a third of his fambly in the camps!. TRUTH BE TOLD—he wuz ALWAYS fulla hot air! Oh, he’s a retired anesthesiologist if ya must know…hence “givin’ gas” — ha ha so funny I fergot ta laff…the ONLY chew I know who has NO SENSE OF HUMOR!…er except his late muther..) Which leads me to SCHATE that:

Herr SchtepVater iz ALSO (we were told) the SUPREME AUTHORI-TEE on all all matters VAXXINE. Yup.

BUT, do ya know WHY? Glad ya asked!

A point of PRIDE he BRAGS about is that his undergrad (UNDERGRAD!!!) major wuz in CHEMISTRY! Oooooh ….THAT made him an EXPURT!

Oh my oh my, oh my—I BOW (wow wow) ta such epurt-tease!
Give the ol’boy a cigar!—I’ll throw in a Bronx Cheer too!

A++ in chemistry fer “Poindexter,,” The Professor’s “genius” nephew

Wull now, don’t know ‘bout you all, but when I hear “undergrad major in chemistry” I’m just BOWLED ovuh! BlobSmacked!— time ta genuflect ta the many thousands of greasy-haired young men with leakin’ pens in their pockets an’ beakers up their sleeves who over the past 70-ish-years have LED our NAY-SHUN to the sore-in’ heights of INJECTABLE (ill-)HEALTH!

Lordy lordy, what AUTHOR-ITTY! What WEIGHT such BS (bachelors in da “science”) carries! I jus’ KNOW fer SURE that there’s sumthin’ SO SPECIAL ‘bout majorin’ in chemistry as an undergrad not only makes ya a mRNA “expurt” but it also makes ya a 🍬 candy-date🍬 fer a Nobel frickin’ Prize! Fer hero worship even! (Can’t’cha tell I’m jus’ gobsmacked?! Unspeakably impressed!)

CAN YOU BELIEVE AN OLD FART LIKE THIS HAS SUCH A HIGH OPINION OF HIMSELF THAT HE CITES HIS UNDERGRADUATE CHEMISTRY DEGREE AS PROOF HE’S AN EXPERT IN THE FIELD OF VACCINES? I know…”chokes me up” too…

An’ it would’a been FUNNY, such pomposity—if it didn’t become a wrench used ta git my poor Ma all jabbed-up like a live human VOODOO DOLL! (Turned ‘er inta ZOMBIE too!)

I’m a little frightened how similar this Zombie Woman IS to my ma…

This STELLAR applause-wurthy accomplish-mint—I mean the undergrad major in CHEMIST-TREE… happened when? In the mid-effin’-1950s fergawdsakes loooong ‘fore mRNA an’ graphene were on the kiddie menu… but no matter—all bow ta the expurt! which leads me to….

The Dunning-Kruger Effect:

…when the IGNORANT smugly over-estimate their knowledge & abilities! OH MY did we all see this durin’ the ol’ plandemic, no?

SO MANY folks that GROSSLY OVER-ESTIMATED their expertise & talents seemed ta turn up—like bad pennies!—durin’ COVID CON. The “TALKING HEADS” on the teevee (not David Byrne!…I mean the NOT-Makin’-Sense idiots like Don Lemon & John Oliver & Stephen Colbert…—which, a’propos of nothin’ strikes me odd that their last names all remind me of food—lemons, olives, colby CHEESE!) were all part ‘n parcel of this veritable EXPLOSION of blatherin’ know-it-all DUNNING KRUGER mush-minds—all fulla themselfs, all full-out fools!

Eliminatin’ the Negative…

MEANTIMES: my own many (many!) YEARS! of readin’ an’ learnin’ an watchin’ all I could ta UNDERSTAND the DISASTER of Western Medi-SIN an’ Big Pharma — an’ yup it wuz indeed a LEARNIN’ CURVE over a lotta YEARS— DID NOT COUNT not a speck, not a mote, not even a measely chicken fart!, in the eyes of said Dunning-Kruger EXPURT! (More of a “killer” Freddie Kreuger type tho!)

ALL research not attributed to EXPURTS amounts ta THIS! pfft!

How many of US who have been on longtime “alt health” journeys were so rudely dismissed by famblies, friends, their own specialists?—by all the know-it-alls who were so sure that WE were the wreckless know-nothin’s? LOTS—I’m sure!

Kin y’all tell that I’m fumin’ now? Just writin’ ‘bout this makes me steam!
An’ I’m just gettin’ warmed up!

I could jus’ blow my STACK! (lol)

HERE’s A PURDY GOOD (if dark) THEORY from a non-EXPURT, age 16!

how ya go from BAD to WORSE by doin’ DIDDLY SQUAT when someone (like a wife) gits an adverse “vaxxxine” reaction…

This ruthless game is called—
NO SEE’EM!

No See’em!

NOW—my younger daughter thinks (an’ I think she’s kee-recht, DARK as this is…) that it’s possible my ma had HAD her first stroke THEN, RIGHT after the FIRST 🎁 BIRTHDAY GIFT 🎁 JAB, WHILE my self-absorbed “SchtepVater” the know-it-all undergrad chemistry major— did NOTHING!

THE DO-NOTHIN’S:
Metaphorically, the man took out his deck of cards an’ it’s if he played a solitaire game of “No See’em!”

AH! Zee “schtrong” reactions are EXPECTED, no?
I vunder: did zey war-game fer that too? Did they PLAN ta tell folks to EXPECT bad reactions that meant THINGS WERE WORKIN’? I bet yes! — remember, the “countermeasures” had no inserts, no warnin’s, no counter-indications! the paper was BLANK! also part of the plan…

a FULL covid-jab ingredient list, counterindications, SIDE EFFECTS, warnings…

In my younger one’s opinion, da rat bass-turd SchtepVater (my compliments alone, I’ll own’em) let Gran’Ma SUFFER an’ SEIZE & ROT an’ he wrote off her bein’ KO’d ta havin’ a “normal reaction” an’ he cruelly let her GIT WORSE & DETERIORATE fer WEEKS unattended until she (kinda sorta) woke up from her first “spell” as if pricked by the witch’s poison spindle (which it wuz but no prince gave her a kiss ‘cept the one of death!). Durin’ her time in that stupor id she ever complain of pain or discomfort? Were such pleas ignored? Wonder I must…I mean it’s STILL my Mama…
All I CAN say is HOW LUCKY she even woke up! Some got batches so bad—they did NOT.

But…How ROTTEN that he DID NOTHIN’!

We’ll never KNOW exactly what went down with my Ma, as we were kept outta the loop, in the DARK—but how CRUEL (methinks) ta let yer wife be half paralyzed, bedridden, an’ showin’ no recovery from the jab over WEEKS an’ doin’….NOTHING! (I’d call it bein’ an accessory ta murder but then again I’m biased!…Accessory, yup, but he was also the killer too! tho’ he didn’t personally deliver her injection(s) — he drove her ta the hoss-spit-all, walked her in, an’ MADE HER TAKE’EM—ovuh an’ ovuh again, reactions be DAMNED! (grrrr!)

Were a LOT of people left writhin’ in pain or seizin’ on their sofas or in their beds because fambly members were told “oh that’s a normal reaction” by their dokturds? I wunder…

In our case, I KNEW my ma didn’t want those “shots”; she COMPLIED to “keep the peace.”
(Like So Many Did)… ended up in PIECES!

Certainly as a long retired-from-work lady she didn’t “need ‘em” for an office as some did. She’d been actively practicin’ “LOCK DOWN” — masks ‘n all I’m sad ta say—fer so long she got used ta goin’ NOWHERE…. so there was NO reason to COMPEL her ta take those jabs to git back ta SOMEWHERE!

Ruther, ”HE” (aka God with da MD after his name…) didn’t wanna git SICK on account of HER not takin’ ‘em—an’ this he actually told her! Not for HER own good! for HIS!.. the selfish gall of that… HIS life, HIS wellness, valued “like rubies”—to be polished, preserved, WEIGHED. Hers? Not worth a feather OR a chipped zircon—i.e. worthLESS. He MADE HER git shot-up FOR HIMSELF. An’ he wuz PROUD of it!

I got little sympathy fer the…. SELL-FISH!

The SELL-FISH kin:

Fer Daisy here at least—-it’s one thang ta know yer GUBBAMINT wants ya dead, I’ve fully digested that nasty bolus already, BUT when it’s an’nuther fambly (even schtep fambly…) member killin’ yer own Ma….an’ worse—nearly GLOATIN’ over gettin’ her peskiness SUBDUED! subservient to his WILL—wull, that’s HARD ta take-in…truly! Hence what I’d LIKE TO say ta the man that crushed my Mama’s soul an’ WILL…

An’ speaking of WILL-POWER, filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl had it down pat as:

The Triumph of the WILL… (in this case ‘twas my schtepvaters “superior” will over my Ma’s weaker one…) — a MOVIE we’ve sadly SEEN BEFORE…

But frankly—lookin’ at all that went down:

That Ain’t No Way ta Treat a Lady!

IF I WUZ A SPOUSE THAT WUZN’T A LOUSE…

IF an’ such a reaction befell my “better half” on my watch—an’ if there EXISTED properly “carin’ doctors” of conscience (vs the many lousy dokturds that simply took the money an’…jabbed!) — who could be dispatched ta treat “ the little woman” after observin’ the EXTREME comatose reaction she’d had to her first jabberoo— IF IF IF this alternate reality existed… an’ IF I were a decent sorta chap an’ my intentions were genuinely good —THEN THESE STEPS are what I would have DONE early on:

• I’d’a had her on major 🐟 Fish Oil 🐟 supps (neuro-protective) an’ MAJOR daily Hyperbaric O2 (helps the brain!) an’ mebbe done a UVBI blood flush/ treat-mint on her (resets the immune system to heal it) , def. some 🌞MAJOR Vit. C 🌞 / anti-oxidants via IV (ditto)—an’ all this would I have done NOT EVEN yet knowin’ what was in them killer shots, not YET knowin’ the other tricks (like K2/Nattokinase/EDTA, Methylene Blue—heck mebbe even 🚬 Nicotine…🚬 etc) that would come inta play ta thin the blood, git ridda some of the metals, an’ prevent summa the clottin’.
  
  Remember this was all takin’ place LITERALLY only a few months (3) after the death jabs came out an’ the above is the LEAST I would’ve done… ‘fore I’d larned much more over time….

Also, as a bona-fide NON-EMM-DEE jester in a foolscap (but hey, I wuz a DJ!), I’d have asked:

• Is it NORMAL for a woman up in years (80 of ‘em!) ta be PASSED OUT for two weeks? 😵

• Did the facial paralysis / Bell’s Palsy? impaired speech? all show up right away or over time? I kin say that half her face/ the right side of her body is partly paralyzed—did NOBUDDY notice? (I would ask…) Did they not WONDER? Is it normal for a foot ta drag ‘n scoot along like a frickin’ SNAIL 🐌 when ‘fore the jab she had a normal stride? So WHEN did that all start, this partial paralysis? First Jab? Within hours? LATER?
  
  Also—I’m still askin’:

If all was KNOWN to be hunky-dorey with my Ma post-jab, then WHY were we “relations” not allowed ta see ANY photos of her for nearly a year ?

In the VERY FIRST PHOTO that we ultimately sawr of my Ma in late 2021 (MONTHS after her first jab…an’ lord knows how many roosters at that pernt….)—an’ mind y’all, this wuz not even a close-up—I noticed the facial DROOP an’ thought it looked like “Bell’s.” Pardon the corn but…it RANG A BELL!

Whaddaya say, something similar goin’ on here? (sorry fer the repeat…)
(later photo below from ‘24 but the droop wuz there back in ‘21 too…)

I DARED mentioned this observation ta my Ma on the phone—simply as a concern—cuz that indicator plus the slurred words had given me pause. Wouldn’t YOU have wondered too? Or if we don’t have the right CRUD-entials, are we not PERMITTED to wonder?

In the game of “No See’em” all decks are marked—there is NEVER any JOKER in the DECK!

Summarily I got pooh-poohed loudy by the PoohBah (in the background) by der Surly SchtepVater on the SOFA who puts ALL incomin’ phone calls on Speaker Phone so he can HEAR ALL that’s said from across the room, volume-“boosted” by his crackerjack Hearin’ Aid — an’ then UNINVITED, this fella always INVITES himself ta comment on WHUTSOEVAH he finds WRONG with anything that’s said—which means his hollerin’ out “THAT’s a LIE” or something worse…much worse! if he disagrees….

It’s AS IF he had one’a these dinguses but he just YELLS instead’a usin’ a button:

NOTE: I should say that tho’ the man insults rudely, he doesn’t curse bein’ a “gentleman” and all. Back in the ‘90’s on a rare visit he once called me a PINKO! cuz I had some NOT NICE things ta say ‘bout Bush Sr. which triggered his IRE! That’s more how he rolls—so this “Expurt” is also “expurt with” the insults minus any 4-letter ones tho’ -

ANYWHOO… HOW MANY FAMBLIES DISMISSED THE SYMPTOMS of their LOVED ONES an’ REJECTED ANY VOICES OF CONCERN—JUST so they could CONTINUE THEIR NARRATIVE of havin’ DONE THE RIGHT THING? I think LOTS…’n lots…

All concerns expressed by me about my Ma’s CONDITION (possible stroke or possible Bell’s as I mentioned on the horn with her…) — concerns which did not an’ still don’t seem a whit unreasonable ta me—were voiced well BEFORE she had her “Incident of Unconsciousness” that got ‘her hospitalized….

Thus one more thing I would also have been askin’ in hindsight…

• DID this man who she is married to NOT give a hoot at all about my Ma’s “reaction” because his OWN needs were met? (his selfish NEED to have all around him comply an’ git jabs to protect HIM?!)

• Was he able ta brush off her noticeable “reactions” now havin’ the cock-sure confidence she wouldn’t, at least, GIT HIM SICK — even if she was comatose?! (oh HE was sick though—just not in the way he deserved ta be!!!)

I will never know the answers to ANY of these questions….likely he’ll take ‘em ta the grave. But I think I know enuf ta hold him accountable in my mind… Frankly, it all “stinks!” My rotten SchtepVater would never GIVE me any info upon request—any details at all (I don’t deserve the time of day let alone any explainations…).

But then SURELY as a dokturd he must know that at a certain point in dealin’ with a brain-injury “reaction”— the damage is DONE… irreparably I think…so it’s all warter under the bridge anyhow…findin’ out more would be…moot.

click ta hear it!

Ya got just THREE DAYS ta HEAL (ya HEELS!)

As per my tellin’ of the tale above, regardin’ clot shot number 1, WEEKS went by….an’ I recall readin’ that if someone had ANY kinda brain ‘er head injury (…er I’ll argue that passin’ out fer a few days—let alone longer—is CLEARLY indicative of such a thing) then you MUST address/treat within 72 hours (that’s 3 days) or else yer winda of helpin’ reverse the damage has PASSED. (Would not my SchtepVater the Divine Dokturd have known this too? I vunder…an’ I’ll bet YES…)

This old adage then applies:

Benjamin Franklin: 🐟 “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.”🐟

If my rotten SchtepVater didn’t realize after THREE stinkin’ DAYS with my Ma an’ her comatose state that sumthin’ STUNK sumthin’-awful (offal!) —-an’ that at very least my poor Ma had hadda stroke or seizure (on his ‘effin watch!) or at very least that some kinda serious ADVERSE EVENT had taken place (which as a frickin’ dok-turd he should’a / could’a reported….but did not) OR that MEBBE at least see that “somethin’ untoward happened” that might have warranted a 2nd look from a specialist or even an ER MD?—- then I guess that at best a SMUG WILLFUL NEGLECT wuz his “M.O.”

Truly, I WONDER ABOUT THE DECENCY OF HUMANS that would WATCH an INNOCENT FAMBLY MEMBER SUFFER — an’ do NOTHING!

Mebbe it wuz that smugness? Some quik mental “equivocatin’?” After all—HE was fine! HIS wonderful adult children were FINE… (different genes, different microbiome…. different auto-immune profile…DIFFERENT BATCHES! some live some not, even at the same office) so HIS mahvelous GIFT must’a been as PERFECT as was his decision to INSIST on it bein’ given over an’ over again—no tarnish on his “sterling” reputation…

IMHO it all stunk of “bad batch”—really bad batch… WORSE than three day old fish!

Would this COUNT as a BAD BATCH? It’s ALL Fishy! but it was also all “accordin’ ta plan” to the TUNE-A (git that TUNA! ha ha) billions of bucks for them that collected on the “bet”—kaching!

this leads me ta the topic of:

“Bad” BATCHES are a b*tch! (a deadly one too!)

As soon as I larned about the batch website, havin’ figgered out my Ma had been turned inta a human pin cushion, I begged her many times fer her batch numbers. She didn’t have ‘em an’ my SchtepVater loudly / audibly dismissed the request as CRAZY. Each time my ma (aka “sleepin’ beauty”) awoke from her sound muti-week sleeps which follered each SHOT an’ each ROOSTER, I bugged ‘n begged fer them batch no’s ta look ‘em up on Sasha ‘n Craig’s site—an’ was full-out REFUSED (with the SchtepVater in the background always yellin’ out that I was bein’ “ridiculous” an’ that this “batch issue” was all IMAGINED! SEETHING at me…)

an’ THAT leads me to:

CUT-OFFS! two kinds, BOTH popular an’ “trending”…

Cuttin’ off yer knee-frayed JEANS an’ makin’ shorts out’ve ‘em is a purfectly fine trend, a casual way ta revamp frayin’ clothin’—it’s about SAVIN’ not DISCARDIN’ we might say; but CUTTIN’ OFF YER FAMBLY — literally DISCARDIN’ ‘em UNTIL they’re frayed at the edges!—as SO MANY did durin’ COVIDCON is a near-CRIMINAL trend! (And it’s THAT one that me an’ my fam fell victim to!) I ask:

HOW MANY FORMERLY UNITED FAMBLIES were BUSTED UP over the clot shots? How many “wrongful” CUT-OFFS occurred?! (I hear-tell MANY!)
How much SADDNESS came as a result?—the HUMAN toll?!

---

The first THREAT of bein’ CUT OFF from my Ma
(a “soft” chewy DisOwn-Mint”— Part 1)

Long 'fore she ended up in hoss-spit-all with her biological fambly (that’s us!) formally DISOWNED an’ DISTANCED—that’s Part 3 by the way—many months even ‘fore that first jab sent her on the way ta becomin’ a human “sweet potayta,” I wuz ALREADY cautioned by Herr SchtepVater-the-Perfect that I’d be “CUT OFF FROM ANY an’ ALL CONTACT WITH MY MA” if I an’ my girls dared send her ANYTHING MORE ‘bout the jabs-bad includin’ related STUDIES that would cause her ta pause or reconsider “her” decision. (I put that “her” in quotes as the decision was NOT made by “her” but by “him.”)

This extraction of a vow ta remain SILENT on the matter vas Herr Schtepvater’s line in the sand AND thus it became my Mama’s too—cuz he called all the SHOTS! (ba da dah!—yeah, pun-intended but true too!)

Callin’ all the SHOTS!— aka payin’ the PIPER!

When Herr SchtepVater made it his “rule” that I’d be CUT OFF if we dared send my Ma EVEN one more document warnin’ her ‘bout the covid-con an’ dangers of the up ‘n comin’ clot shots (I’m recallin’ this was JUST as the first clot shots were comin’ out but BEFORE my ma was forced ta take hers), I promptly fired BACK an’ email schtatin’ that if I was ta honor “their” request, then they—both of ‘em—had ALSO ta promptly CEASE & DESIST sendin’ me their own barrage of rapid-fire “ALARM” articles that tarred ‘n feathered us. NOTE that I sent them MEDICAL STUDIES an’ they sent me SCREEDS about anyone that’d QUESTION—big diff (imho!)

They’d been emalin’ an’ snail mailin’ a non-stop series of non-scientific screeds with “expurts” statin’ how we “covid-deny-erz” / “we anti-vaxxers” who didn’t mask up ‘er distance or who defied curfews—an’ who DARED speak up ‘bout the just-released jabs-bad — were ALREADY ENDANGERIN’ OURSELFS all all those around us! I don’t recall an’ of these “beauties” bein’ scientific—that’s what’s kinda funny comin’ from a Man of Science! (an’ I KNEW this stuff wuz from him—my Ma read the human interest stories an’ the book reviews…)

I was sick ‘n tired (not actually sick, not actually tired tho!) hearin’ how we pesky NON-COMPLIERS were pariahs!, bein’ told how we wuz NEGLECTFUL (egads that word—I kind hear ACS/CPS listenin’ in!-y’all know NEGLECT is a legal term they kin use ta remove yer kids from her homes!) puttin’ our CHILDREN AT RISK! by “irresponsiblly” an’ “wrecklessly” not protectin’ ourselfs! (this was, of course, BEFORE the kids’ jabs came out so we were baaaad parents not ta git jaaaabed ourselfs—an’ thereby puttin’ poor kinder at risk!—”neglectfully”—oy!)—

REGULARLY we were gettin’ an earful on how we could permanently WRECK the HEALTH of ALL good pee-pull (like them!) —ALL of ‘EM! Imagine?!—with our REFUSAL TO COMPLY!

So, yup, I was DONE hearin’ how we CULTists should not be given medi-cull treatment an’ should be BANNED from society—how dokturds should DUMP US all as patience. All this an’ more poison pen letters were arrivin’ in my inbox an’ mailbox so IF I was ta stop sendin’ my ma stuff (to prevent bein’ cut off from her/them entirely) THEN my deal wuz that ALL the above garbage flowin’ in had ta SCHTOP too. No more “deliveries”… an’ it was—thus—a tit fer tat “accord.”

So, THAT kinda pettiness (you schtop sendin’ us studies an’ we’ll schtop sendin’ you — basically — hate mail—nah nah nah nah…! is what we were reduced to. THUS it became:

“Let’s make a DEAL!”

(fwiw cuz I share such things”) Monty Hall wuz born a nice Orthodox chewish singer from Canada (like Lorne Green!)—He wanted ta go to medical school but there were at the time quotas on how many joos would be allowed in, however qualified—so instead he dumped Medi-sin an’ majored in RADIO!—became a popular announcer, moved up the food chain, relocated ta the US, & the rest is TV hist’ry!

SO…I made that “DEAL” to avoid gettin’ “cut off” from my Ma…
(an’ I didn’t even git a free Amana Radar Range or a LazyBoy ha ha)

Given that at this point in time I knew I’d already sent my Ma ample evidence — enuf fer any SANE person (willin’ ta read it all) ta seriously question the jabs on the horizon an’ the new ones just released— AND to be informed enuf ta know WHY there should be concerns around ‘em: Guillain-Barre & ADE—that’s antibody-dependant enhancement as well as MAJOR Auto-Immune disorders an’ heart issues—ALL these were a few of the worrisome side effects of the minimal trials (ha!) that I’d already shared not ta mention that ALL the animules given mRNA in past studies DIED… Effin’ DIED!

So knowin’ that at that point I’d sent ‘em all I could—an’ could do little more to INFORM my Ma about such potential DANGERS of these “just released countermeasures” (of course I didn’t know THAT term yet!)—yes, I decided ta make a DEAL (with the devil lol!) ta stop sendin’ ma Ma info ruther than git CUT OFF.

Of course, I could make that decision because at that point I wuz still allowed ta be PART of the “negociations” — I had a leeetle bit of agency as far as bein’ permitted or not ta “associate with” my own mother— however unfair the terms were! So at that point I was still ABLE to opt ta not be cut off….

THE DEAL….done!

So I schtopped sendin’ info. to her as promised. (Still I wonder if ANY of what I sent EVER got ta her in the first place — I’ll never know as Der Dokturd, let’s say, “curates” her world…) — AND zo, they honored their side too (mostly); per the DEAL, the barrage of anti-anti-vaxx venom SENT TO US would stop comin’ our way.

THUS we DODGED the first (soft) THREAT of disown-mint BUT in spite (in SPIKE!) of my best efforts—my mom still became a Human Sweet Potayta — a GMO one too! And we…..? Now?

WE were BOWERY BUMS!

This is how our entire fambly — outside of our own kiddos— sawr us!

From that first jab we REFUSED an’ then onward, WE (my fam) were all BUMS! BUMS! of the most shameful, lazy, useless, ilk cuz in our fambly where EVERYONE works, anyone who duz not “do their share” an’ “pull their weight” is a BUM!

Thus our not workin’ (ta avoid said killer-countermeasures) once NYShitty opened up offices for ONLY those jabbed—was as BIG a crime in my fam. Avoidin’ the jabs was considered a non-“EXCUSE” —-worse than “the dawg et my homework!” It indicated LAZINESS (vs brave resistance to pressure as I liked ta see it!) to my Ma an’ her horrible hubby. It indicated innate moral decay—”takin’ advantage” of the opportunity to not work. (SIGH.) It wuz surely the SIN of SLOTH!

I’m actually diggin’ this sloth…

In fact, fer a blessedly short time we had ta convince our own DAUGHTERS that we were not bums cuz when they “hear it” —young ears ya know—they still pause an’ wonder IF it’s true. (MIND GAMES folks played on the vulnerable…)

It was HARD on ‘em ta be watchin’ their pals return ta classes an’ perform in shows an’ go to auditions an’ do stuff—an’ THEM bein’ left behind. For a BRIEF time (a good week ‘er few) my youngest one even had tried ta wear us down an’ literally BEGGED ta return to her former activities because “SO an’ SO” took the jab an’ is FINE.” How kin ya explain that playin’ Russian Roulette wuz not wise, that patience is a GREAT virtue, that some “side effects” may not show up ‘til later… ‘Twas harder on kiddos fer sure in general an’ TEENS…. don’t even go thar. Harder still if yer“gran’ma” instead of showin’ empathy showed disdain…

However our LINES IN THE SAND (an’ quicksand it wuz!) were deeply drawn. Thankfully we were able ta put out those sparkin’ fuses before they were fires and convince our gals that our well-researched concerns were justified….an’ eventually they stopped grousin’! — sort’a. (To this day we dunno WHO got saline—or who got a time-release special formula— possibly YET ta be released!)

EVENTUALLY, THANKFULLY, our girls realized that we were not (actually) BUMS—an’ while “Rome Burned” we actually did NOT sit on our proverbial “bums” either!

I started a homeschool co-op an’ taught thee-ate-’er classes fer the unmasked & unjabbed kinder, workin’ with a “renegade” church that shared our scenty-mints an’ hosted us; my hubby figgered out ways ta make some sheckels workin’ AROUND the mandates an’ avoidin’ his insane ban from the “orri-face” by SNEAKIN’ inta the joint after MIDNIGHT usin’ the under-the-mat MANUAL PASS KEY!

The keycard would’a recorded his entry as an unjabbed DANGEROUS PERSON an’ would’a gotten him FIRED vs just “laid off.” So he’d sneak in…an’ leave at dawn before the first staff arrived. Like a RAT! (albeit a resourceful one)—JUST to DO WORK on the “sly”… for over a YEAR thatta way! So we could EAT!

Ratty (with Mole), ever-resourceful (from The Wind in the Willows, of course)

HOW MANY PEOPLE WERE ALSO DEEMED BUMS as a way ta TAR ‘n FEATHER those that didn’t COMPLY? HOW MANY OTHER FOLKS had to FIGGER OUT WAYS TO AVOID THE MANDATES an’ yet still keep food on the table, like we did? — LOTS I’m sure…

But as to the OPERATION of dealin’ with BUMS… those denigrated are EASY to “OTHER” an’then summarily DISMISS! So indeed we got the “Bum’s Rush!”

First you DISS then ya DISS-MISS!

kinda like a one-two-punch!

Bein’ “BUMS” (all’ve us) set the table anew fer us bein’ DISOWNED. Tho’ we were still in “Let’s Make a Deal” mode for a time per our mutual agreement (a halt to the exchange of ALL info…), when later my Ma went inta the hoss-spit-all ALL BETS WERE OFF.

One DISS-OWNS lazy bums (already diss-missed) — one shuns the “black sheep” of the fambly; BUMS are not “included” in decision-makin’! BUMS are to be AVOIDED like “the plague…” (ha ha…. LIKE the plague, indeed—pick yer poison!)

An’ thus were we BUMS: DISSED an’ DISS-MISSED both! OTHERED is, I guess an’OTHER word fer it!
or DECLINED—just as if we were askin’ fer CREDIT! (We got NO credit fer independent thinkin’ NOR fer our written homework either!)

Nether caste ye youre pearles before swyne.

Oink!

My Ma (repeatin’ ad-nauseum what she was herself told), continually informed my girls that we were bein’ so DIFFICULT—Difficult, STUBBORN! what sensless (schenslush as she’d a said it…) fools we were! Not takin’ RESPONSIBILITY as parents—livin’ off our SAVIN’s an’ depletin’ them recklessly—how DUMB / FOOLISH’ could we BE?! (very!) an’… Pig Headed too!

(Luckily my goils had nuthin’ against bein’ raised by swine…)

Oh. Dear. (that 2nd photo if from Animal Farm btw)

JUST TAKE THE DAMNED THING for GOD’s SAKE and GET ON WITH YOUR LIVES! It’s nothing, one prick! —my Ma, Spring, 2021

(To witness “nothing!” kindly rever to the photos above and in Part 3 of this postin’ wherein my Ma appears t be melted. We wuz “NEEDLED” ta take the shot tho! An’ regardin’ my Ma an’ the above actual quote; not ta be crude but the PRICK in this story wuz my schtepvater!)

There has been NO RECKONIN’ in our fambly that they (in their infinite whizz-dumb) were perhaps wrong or even slightly in ERROR. Nope! CRICKETS! IN FACT they’ve doubled DOWN on it all….
NEVER will we git an apology… (I don’t expect one…) but I do hope for…

INSTANT or DELAYED KARMA!

Mebbe it’s wrong just hope fer “KARMA”—not on my Ma who is/was so manipulated by her kingly “huss-bind” she doesn’t know up from down (or as Alex Jones sez, she couldn’t grab her own ass with 2 hands!);

Tho’ her words were hurtful, callin’ us bums & worse, I fergive HER!

She knew not what the heck she was spoutin’ as what she spouts comes verbatim from her puppetmeister—my SchtepVater—who did NOT have ta put things to her thattaway…

EYE-there's the RUB! -y’ouch!

when ya put things thattaway it ain’t nice!

I’m sure this scenario got similarly staged an’ presented in many famblies all over the GLOBE…. Someone COULD have been understanding, could have honored different choices—but did not! It became, velly much so, a taking-sides kinda ultimatum: “yer with us our yer against us! (friend vs foe)

Thus my Schtepvater COULD HAVE BEEN gracious, he could have said ok, “their bodies their choice” an’ held back on the rhetoric—an’ he could’a let my Ma read the dinged literature an’ decide fer herself—an’ not call us NAMES. Yup, he could have agreed respectfully ta disagree. But nope, we were BUMS, SELFISH, LAZY, DANGEROUS 100%—zo all this pre-digested “food fer non-thought” my Ma sadly regurgitated to us as if she were a baby parrot skilled at immitation an’ HER own parent-parrots fed had such pre-chewed EAR-worms right to her. No “struggle sessions” needed—she OBEYED willin’ly….

So it “stands” with my own fam (Ma included) that “we” selfish, Despicable little MEs with shameful egos—were not just stubborn piggies, but KILLERS too! “Super Spreaders” ta be exact…like this famous laydee / pariah:

As they still tell it (STILL!), we were DISEASED! My gosh…how brain-warshed!
We were JUST LUCKY (lucky!) we didn’t end up sick-to-DEATH with “covid.”

‘Cept it wuzn’t LUCK (doi!); WE never got sick! not even with “covid-the-ordinary-flu,” no nuttin’ cuz we “selfishishly” avoided the clot shots at et like it wuz 1899. (They ALL got “covid-the-flu” ‘cept my Ma).

They (in their infinite whizz-dumb) were SURE that WE BAD CITIZENS who did not comply were gonna be the DEATH of all around us while they were the “Good Citizens” who follered orders. How Nazi like, really…no? Of COURSE the oppy-site wuz true—we put nobuddy at risk. Asymptomatic spread wuz, of course, a fairy tale but far cheaper than organic almond butter… But “nobuddy” is lookin’ in hindsight ta see that this was INVENTED just fer the FOOLS that’s believe ANYTHIN’ ‘cept their own two eyes.

ALTHOUGH I’d like ta say my poor Ma didn’t indulge in such insultin’ talk or jab an accusatory finger in our direction—she DID—SADLY she got caught up” in the religion, the hypnosis, the CON! just like SO MANY other once-good humans, led to ERASE what they once knew about their fellow humans, nay, their own famblies… SO…

THAT is NOT the Mama I ‘member—the one that would’a once stuck up FOR US—her flesh ‘n blood!

Honestly, I do NOT remember THIS Mama, nope not at all…

While we were the DEFIANT ONES (tee hee) they were THE COMPLIANT ONES! Sooooo many were GREAT at COMPLIANCE!

REAL muscles atrophied (includin’ those in their “thinkers”) an’ the bodily ALLIANCE of COMPLIANCE took over as if it were the mornin’ calisthenics!

Line up, six feet apart!
Schtep on yer mark!
Masks ON!
Sanitizer ready!
JaVol! y’all….

Sad ta say, my own relations (Ma included now) were “sticklers” fer follerin’ ORDERS—

ME? Nah ! “NOT I” said the Little Red Hen!

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me”? —RABBI HILLEL

He added, too: “If I am ONLY” for myself, what am I”?

Message: protect yer own first! Put on yer O2 mask FIRST ‘fore even helpin’ yer kiddos with theirs cuz ya ain’t much good DEAD. And… then, an’ only then, DO help those around ya…
WISER words were never spoken!

a good tale about NOT sacrificin’ what ya got by bendin’ ta outside pressures…

Selfish er not (it’s a mattah of perspective) I fend fer myself & my own fam, best as I can!
I TRIED ta save my ma! For over 3 years I even ran a group of about 50 famblies I informed regularly on stuff… an’ I TRIED ta save them too… (tikkun olam, it’s a thing…)

WHAT I WITNESSED in the “HUMANITY” around me gave me MUCH CAUSE TO PAUSE with what I was slowly comin’ ta understand

To my compliant schtepfambly an’ Ma—this is sad ta imagine but havin’ wartched how they behaved with this CovidCon (an’ no guns even pointed at their heads live-or-die style), I have had THIS DARK THOUGHT:

I’m SURE that if THEY — the oh so compliant ones—were told ta board the trains (like our ancestors did, tho’ with them it likely WAS at gunpoint!) they’d be FIRST to cooperate like “Good Citizens!” — orderly, “ruly,” believin’ that their cooperation would SAVE THEM.

Jabs, trains, cattle cars—the same thing, really…REALLY!

I KNOW It’s twisted ta even suggest it BUT the identical TACTICS were indeed used! The same “don’t make waves” pressures were put on folks—so waves they did not make. This happened in all faiths, all races, ALL walks of life…

PEOPLE NEVER LEARNED ANY LESSONS FROM WWII:

You do not COMPLY yer way outta tyranny!—that is if you can even NOTICE it! (most did not)

Cleverly crafted BRUTALITY

Brutality sounds rough, crude, gross even BUT the soft leather glove coverin’ the iron fist made it seems like a friendly helpful hand extended…

The MSM was brutal durin’ CovidCon but also SLICK, clean, unified like that bespoke “kid” glove. Betcha dollerz ta donuts that the Nazi proper-gander wuz just as slick, just as compellin’ an’ “beautifully presented” way back in the 1930s— GOOD FOLKS of COURSE would DO THE RIGHT THING, no?

It WAS essentiallly the same kinda CON I now see:
One of vilifyin’ an’ otherin’ yer fellow humans—gettin’ ya ta think yer neighbors—yer fam even—that they were BUMS or CONTAMINATED or infested / contagious—they were LESS than YOU.

In fact the analogy is SO close, so apt, that poor CJ Hopkins is “on trial” fer suggestin’ the TRUTH! (CLEARLY bein’ over the target…)

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose

It’s a PARROT JUNGLE OUT THERE!

As it stood, my Ma an’ her “fam” all assumed whatever the MSM said was all TROO! Et it up like Lay’s Potato Chips—ye never kin eat “just one.” Groomed—like SO MANY—NOT TO THINK FOR HERSELF (themselfs) so I guess I should NOT have been surprised she went full-tilt-boogie against me an’ my hubs.

I don’t believe that at this point my Ma—now un-wreck-og-nize’able ta me—CAN THINK FOR HERSELF any more! Even if she TRIED! She just parrots whut the GREAT GAWD DOK-TURD her huss-bind sez on “repeat” (Polly wanna cracker?) — like so many others that TRUSTED the TWISTED IAGOs whisperin’ LIES in their ears…

Parrot “Pawley Crackers” from Kimba, always fearful, REPEATED what wuz heard, too dizzy ta comprehend…

A PINEAL gland and’a HIPPOCAMPUS were sittin’ at a bar…

IMHO, on the topic of losin’ the ability ta THINK clearly, to have EMPATHY an’ to REMEMBER past experience ta form “common sense,” I think the clot-shots also helped REWIRE my Mama’s brainwaves into sumthin’ NOT QUITE HUMAN! (as these aformentioned qualities are eminently human!) thereby makin’ her even MORE compliant, dare I say robot-like? automaton-like? FULLY unable ta think fer herself without a programmin’ disk booted up!

They DO say the shots hit the PINEAL gland AN’ the HIPPOCAMPUS where lie emotions, intuitions, and all common-sense memories… ALONG with the above LITERAL ORGAN DAMAGE—there’s ALSO the question of:

SPUNK ! (an’ lack of it!)

Mighty PIPPI had ABSOLUTE SPUNK!

DID YOUR FAM LOSE THEIR SPUNK TOO?

ONCE upon a TIME my Mama (like many of the covid-conned) used ta have some SPUNK an’ a little (LITTLE) fight in ‘er! — she wuz not, I’ll say, an iconoclast but she could stand up fer herself alright. That meant she did not alway say YES. Even under pressure sometimes! (sometimes)

A SPUNK-ectomy!

Fer example, early on she used ta argue back ‘n forth with my SchtepVater every so often ‘bout things that meant sumthin’ to her, however petty they may’ve seemed. So… What WORE HER DOWN? Wuz it ONLY the jabs? I’ll never know… I think they at very least eroded any vestiges of SPUNK that may have been left over…

Over time — years of bein’ married to a tyrant—imho she soitenly lost her own views on most things or AT LEAST knew ta keep ‘em to herself.

Lordy we’d all been staunch Democrats then…, but somehow one day she took on Der Schtevater’s very conservative views — an’ this wuz LONG ‘fore the dems went “south.” I remember she could not DEFEND her support of some of these folks an’ their policies… in polly-ticks an’ on other mattahs… Her formerly liberal mindset wuz “Gone With the Wind!” (love the moovie btw)

WHATEVER HE BELIEVED she HAD TO believe too…

So NOW?—NO SPUNK LEFT!

Thus I give ‘er some slack as she’s been “spunk-otomized” an’ BRAINWARSHED (over years of not bein’ allowed to know her own mind) AN’ now… BRAIN DAMAGED too.

So yup, fer her clemency. Fer him? NO MERCY—

THUS…. I’m sure hopin’ on that aforementioned KARMA !

I refuse ta indulge in or even utter my darkest wishes for those that treated not only my Ma but all of us like dirt. In fact I try ta block ‘em out fer my on sake—not “theirs.” But it duz kinda stick in my craw that nobuddy in my extended (schtep) fambly has yet been visited by dat boomerang (the karmic one!) yet— SO I DO hope their “collective boomerang” will indeed…come back. SO…

For all’ve us who’ve been WRONGED — may those that dunnit to us an’ importantly to those we love have their KARMIC BOOMERANGS come BACK without “ourselfs” needin’ to harbor bad or dark thoughts… LET the universe (God, Lady Luck, whatever CREATOR ya believe in)—MAKE it RIGHT! That is my sincere wish… cuz it’s HARD when folks git away with…MURDER.

May EACH reap the seeds he ‘r she sews (Little Red Hen style!)

(Sharin’ a classic novelty song I much enjoy! — Not peecee ya’ll but it’s silly as all heck an’ NOT mean spirited thus I share this oldie from the daze when we ALL could laff at ourselfs!)

(zo…a drumroll please…)

THEN CAME “the INCIDENT!”

The post-3rd-rooster “incident” took place in late Fall of 2022.

Watch Out fer them ROOSTERS:

“ALL ‘Roosters’ are Looney Tunes! folks got too “cocky” by half ‘bout the things” -Little Red Hen

The SAGA continues!

Kindly mosey on over ta PART 2 fer a deep detour inta the way all this ties inta the way MOTHERHOOD is bein’ erased (an’ what we kin do ‘bout it) an’ to PART 3 ta see whut went down in the hoss-spit-all, in “After Care” an’ how I an’ the fam got DIS-inherited!

If nuttin’ else this particular 3-part postin’ serves both as a testy-mint to this egregious era where minds were erased along with fambly bonds, formerly so important in all of human history, AND, also as sort of memorial ta my Mama, LOST an’ not found, like the one sock still in the drawer, unaware it’s missin’ “mate” was tossed many moons before.

The Ma that yet walks (wull, kinda walks, more like shuffles) is not the one I REMEMBER—she’s alive, sure…but it seems like she’s been REPLACED by a paper cutout of her former warm, connected, feisty self—a one dimensional, cheaply “printed” facsimile, no longer the original,“replica.”

always preferrin’ the real-live warts-an-all live version of ALL us humans!
-Daisy

NOW ya kin buy me a cuppa java if ya like, alwayz grateful fer y’all!
https://ko-fi.com/daisymoses

An’ now a a lovely old chestnut—”strange an’ mournful”—inspired by a dish on a Chinese restaurant menu (that’d be the title) but truly a tune about reuniting…

Onward to the next one—out SOON!