Epic Times Call for Epic TimesCan you imagine? You start day just like any other. No idea what lays ahead. Think about it for a minute. Grabbing your keys, making sure you have all your gear... don't want to be late. Overtime and all, gotta get hopping and be on time. Then suddenly your world just unravels, before long you can't stand. Hell you're a fireman and can't hold onto the hose anymore. It's covered in butter. Nobody can stand up. It's a river of flowing butter. It's on fire, it's melting and it's taking everything with it when it goes. 11 days ago, on January 2nd, a brave and strong community in Wisconsin faced an adversary they never imaged they encounter. A river of Butter. In Portage, Wisconsin, a place known for a historic portage from the way back yonder of history before. Nare I say, let's not get muddled in what where what because before us is a literal river of butter. Our head instantly wants to jump to volumous endless displays of vulgarity when considering the possibilities. It wasn't quite as grand as all that. But it was, slippery as fuck and getting a handle on things lends this writer to imagine the hilarious Keystone nature of attempting to wrestle, with all things... a flowing river of Butter. I imagine our sons took to task and did the deed well. Last I heard, it's all cleaned up and hopefully so. I heard it smells like butter over there. Portage smells like butter because American workers who supply 10% of the nation's butter supply went to battle for you. American firemen came to their aid... and countless others who stepped up in this very strange moment in History.
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As I draw back further and further into what we're doing here I've managed to eek out a bit of a routine for daily farm bakery living. While Paul had the birds to give him a rhythm to his day, I had only the Bakery. And there were moments when the Bakery was quiet. Whether seasonal baking complete and lulls, dry spells or in this case... losing two clients back to back can drive anyone into a bit of a lull. The lull is nice. Life on Earth is often a frenetic pace for most people we come in contact with. Appointments, schedules, agendas and itineraries pushing the human equation forward relentlessly. That can be exhausting and downright tiring after 50+ years. While I am finally having time to sit and write, collect my thoughts and assign myself tomorrow's tasks and agendas there was another benefit. Daily Bread. The pandemic forced so many people out of their comfort zones into the realm of the home baker. And for someone like myself who already was baking on a regular basis, it made supplies scarce. Everyone turned to sourdough. Everyone, myself included. However, once the hype of fresh bread from our own oven wore off, so did the scarcity of staples. I was able to secure a 2 pound supply of active dry yeast. Plus we decided in December instead of spending hundreds on gifts we didn't actually need, we would buy bulk flours instead. I dabbled and discovered several kinds of flours, both in brands and styles. The journey is only beginning. What it did most, was organize and help me prioritize. It gave me a chance to see how it was possible to every day bake at least one loaf of bread. It gave me a chance to bulk up my Bakery freezer case with quantities of bread dough so we could attend farmer's markets and take orders. Giving myself a backstock of flavors from which to pull. It wasn't too difficult to work into my daily schedule but it took supply. It took practice. And it also took fine tuning recipes that are delicious, easy to bake and lovely to the eye. While I'll never be happy we had a pandemic, I will be grateful that my takeaway as a Baker is, I can and will bake bread daily as part of my Baker's mission on Earth. It's simply the very least that I can do. Or is it... the most?
To begin the journey of friendship, two individuals must agree and continue to agree they will continue being friends. At any point in time during friendships, one or the other without notice or apparent provocation can simply decide that the friendship has reached it's conclusion. To understand friendship and what it entails, one more also see that it takes a cooperative effort where both individuals involved in the relationship get equal billing as friends. What does this mean? It means that both friends, in the friendship take turns holding the microphone, the stage, the light, the cards, the check, the tissues and both share equal feels. What begins to happen when this isn't the case? What happens when only one person in the friendship gets to talk? Gets to be No. 1 and nobody else exists or gets a turn? What happens to friendship then? What can sometimes appear to be a fit, is simply one party masking approval while the other sucks up all the oxygen in the tent. The "friend" who is dominating the relationship stifles and smothers the non-speaking friend or friends in the room and no one is left with room to speak, to be noticed or even feel valued. This causes pain. Why is it so painful when you are ignored in friendships? Because we are under the belief system that we are sharing an experience with another human. Especially if that other human is in pain or transition off planet. We desire to wish them good things, when pain is all that seems to flourish in their midst. Not all relationships labels as friendships are sincere, authentic or friendships at all. Most "friendships" in today's transactional world are extensions of business relationships made friendlier by the exchange of money for goods, services and yes... even feels. People buy affection all the time. As kind people engage in business it can be difficult to tell rude, boorish or narcissists "No" or even "No thank you." Most of these types don't take "No" for an answer and will make this apparent the first time you don't put their needs before your own. Real friends, see your real needs and respond to them in ways that make you feel better. Fake friends, business friends or transactional relationships often leave you feeling hollow, masked and friendless once they depart the scene. Can fake friends leave a hole? Absolutely. Remember, these types suck up all the air in the room and they are always the most important people on scene. When they leave or tell you things, you don't feel better. Their compliments aren't true compliments. They are designed to grease the wheels after they see the wheels coming off their idea of friendship. Signs you can tell you are in a transactional relationship.
It's important to remember that Business is Business and not all friendships, even in business are in our best interest. Anyone who would place your business, your home, your spouse, family, pets and even in you in harm's way or jeopardy for their own benefit is not and never was your friend. People use other people all the time in the name of friendship. After awhile people catch on and steer clear of these individuals. You're not losing friends. You're gaining security.
The One I didn’t want to write but wrote anyway. Stop reading. There’s no reason for you to actually read the words I’m about to write unless you sincerely believe that we’re all significantly interwoven and connected on this planet. If you believe otherwise, there’s no need to read onwards. I’m not sure what to do first. Give you my data and synopsis or simply lay it out in a timeline format. The subject I’m about to broach is so vastly outside my realm of normal thinking that it would take my entire lifetime to figure out what I’m about to write. We’re in an age where the conspiracy theory is rampant like a demon trotting the globe. Hence my utter reluctance to even whisper a word of the knowledge I’ve been imparted with… a knowledge I didn’t seek out but instead tackled me. Let’s go with the timeline. About the time I started winning cannabis awards, I had retired from corporate America and was liberated as a slave to the machine. I didn’t fully understand the machine but was glad with my liberation. IN that zeal and gladness to be feeling not only freedom but also new found privilege, set out to put that clearly full account to the good work. My first assignment was legalization. Only, every time I googled the terms “legalize cannabis” would another search term pop up. Every time. Without fail. Repeatedly. Over the years I’ve taken to screenshotting this “anomaly”. I use air quotes because as of this morning I no longer believe that the alternate search results that generate when one types “Legalize ca” are by accident. It’s there. It’s been there the whole time. I didn’t bother to check the internet prior to my cannabis win because the big brother of the corporate world was always looking over my back. I had even lost a (not so great) bakery job, early in my bakery career over internet content I created and posted online. I wasn’t in violation of any agreements. It’s just that, without laws protecting content creators, employers are free to stalk their employees and be as harsh as they fully please. I digress. I say that to say, that prior when I was in more actively stalked and watched state I wasn’t active in cannabis culture openly due to repercussions that would surely impact my employment situation. So why search for something I couldn’t actively participate in? Which brings me to… “Why is this result showing up?” I’ve always been a well-trained individual. I take classes, I get educated, I’m certified and I learn how to do things I’m not even required to learn. Just to stay fresh. In that same light, I also trained other individuals in the workplace in certain career fields. One field, computer programming took my midwestern ass to NYC and programmer training, where I was the trainer. I was the computer programmer trainer in NYC. Me. I was so good at what I did someone else stole my test and submitted it as their own. I turned on the thief and in the process lost my certification. Now, I may have lost my certification, but I certainly retained absolutely every tiny bit of code I absorbed into my human matrix. It was there the whole timeIt simply became part of who I would become. The understanding of basic code, writing code and also… search terms. The “why” of how a search term could have precedence over another. That understanding to know, to deduce logically that yes, in fact these are the terms that are currently the most searched terms when the letters “legalize ca” are typed. Most are NOT looking for cannabis. But another, far darker and more sinister word. It’s so disgusting what I have to tell you next, I needed to wash my mouth out with sugar and tea. Recently the Catholic Church has quite a bit of egg on their face regarding the indigenous youth and the “schools” they were violently relocated to against theirs and the tribal wishes. Many of these youths lost their lives and hundreds if not thousands of graves are being uncovered every day. What appears plainly to have been an attempt at genocide at the hands of the Catholic Church. Shameful. Yet staring us directly in the face. To Jeffrey Epstein, the wealthy socialite who peddled flesh and then supposedly met his demise in an unwatched high end jail cell. My, how convenient. To fast forward to last night’s SNL where in three tidy scripts the message is clearly laid out. Annie comes out and tells us directly what’s going on. It’s hard to watch, hear, listen, know and digest. But put the filter of Annie over the filter of Jeffrey Epstein and the most terrifying question I’ve ever asked the universe gets answered. To listen to the tales of the victims of the Epstein operation is to hear them tell of scores of numbers of voices that for whatever reason are completely and utterly silent regarding their dealings with Epstein. The universe whispers, “the secrets in the sauce.” So we fast forward through pizzagate and somewhere the message is “eating babies” but over and over as the SNL founding father Jason clearly states. “Not babies.” To hear another snippet from a fresh take on a new world the script reads “We simply have too many girls.” Snowpiercer ate babies. But Epstein? His victims. They ate the evidence. The children weren’t babies. They were girls. 12-17. They were stolen. They were paraded. They were abused, victimized and then in a disgusting twist… they were served for dinner. They may have even been paraded around first like some weird prize or trophy. In dinner for schmucks we see the table set. Only it wasn’t schmucks. It was women. Young flesh, ripe for picking. Unobserved, unserved, unloved, ignored and oh so easily missed from the landscape. Why? Because they don’t value females. The only females that are prized are the ones with a price herself. And the ones willing to consume that which should never touch the lips. 1000's of girls were delivered to Epstein in France, uncheckedSo Ghislaine , she served them up. Then she dined. What a sick fuck. They can’t hide from this. The genie is out of the bottle. I’ve got assurances from the Universe and the devil wants to you to know plainly, this is not his jam. He’s more into rock and roll and tv. Human flesh gives gas. (My face is grim and downcast at this translation.) I don’t know what’s next after this reveal. This one was a bit much for me. I’d rather know than not know. It helps me to feel like I need to prepared for anything. And there’s no reason why I shouldn’t know this truth. The trick is to know what to do with it next.
I’m just going to sit. This isn’t dinner conversation. I wrote it down. I coped, I dealt and I sought counsel among loved ones. That’s really the best I can with what I know. I’m not on some personal crusade. I’m just that lone voice in the wilderness. I won’t be eating any meat from any strange tables. And that is for certain. I’m a social vegan now and that is simply that. Trust the energies. They don’t lie. What the fuck? What the actual fucking fuck? Did you give one thought at all about who you might meet in the woods? Did you give one thought at all about how awful it looked to see you approaching as you did? Did you give you give one thought at all to whom you might be approaching as you did on that day looking like you did? Did you think at all? We never gave two shits if you actually were who you said you were. The weapon removes that caring. We cared for ourselves only in that moment as we three stood facing your very armed face. You were armed. We were not. Yet there you stood facing three un-armed beings looking at fungus on the ground. We told you why we were there, even though we owed you nothing. We gave you something. What did you give? Fear. Intimidation. Were you friendly? Were you sincere? Were you nice? We didn't know. We only picked up creepy creeper creeping vibrations when you told us you've been sitting here or an hour watching. What? US? We've been here 20 minutes and we're moving along quickly. You also waited until we were done and leaving. You could have said something sooner. It was clear we were there for a few minutes. But as you clearly saw, as you watched from your dark place of hiding... we were moving quickly along. And we did move quickly along. Before you approached. While you were approaching. And even after you made contact, while standing in the woods holding your weapon of choice. We moved along quickly. So your theatrics with the weapon were excessive and unwarranted for nature enthusiasts and photographers. You said you owned a hundred acres. I say, Prove it.
You said you owned a hundred more. I say Prove it once more. When i tell you who I am, listen up and listen good because I'll be back. I'll be back to talk greater shit about you in your corner of the woods until you never approach my group again. Back the fuck all the way Precious Hunter and never approach with your weapon again. If you see me in the woods, lay your weapon down and just do not approach. Do not approach. Be Kind. Leave the weapon behind. We are in the midst of a grand shift in how social media is managed, used and perceived. Personally, I've had to make the hard shift to drop an account permanently due to how impossible it is to use it fully. Plagued by repeated bannings, it's clear that the account is monitored by robots and everything is open to scrutiny and banning. I never wanted my voice to be so heard by so many. The over exposure of most social media doesn't allow for any kind of metered privacy without closing yourself off to the entire world. I'm also not seeking to be so closed. However, being so accessible also means that we are also drawing in some of the energy we absolutely don't want. Recently, someone wished my beautiful farm a panther. The implications of all encased in that wish was all it took for me to hit the "block" button on every platform I was connected to that individual. Social media if nothing else, reveals the true state of the heart. And residing inside someone else's dark little heart was a panther for my beautiful bird farm. How atrocious. Nobody needs that in their field of vision ever. But, thanks for showing me so openly what you think of my life's work. Lately, the reasons for losing me are becoming more esoteric. Before it was misogeny, racism and ableism. I've noticed though that the abelists are also hiding out as the caring carers of the caregiver world. Abelism is so toxic and so lethal to the medical community. Anyone that hints of "I'm better than you because I can do things" is immediately dismissed. I don't actually wish to be dismissive. But the idea that anyone is better than someone else simply because they aren't "sick" is just disgusting. The status of the heart shows the intention towards giving life or celebrating death. "I never wanted my voice to be so heard."The other thing that grabs me hard is the abusive chronically ill. Not all patients are rosy, sweet and rays of motherfucking sunshine. Some are real pitas. I don't akin to being a pita when someone is trying to help you. I don't meet patients alone, ever. Everyone is pre-screened and should a patient begin exhibiting abusive tendencies, care can be immediately terminated. Caregiving doesn't go on forever. It's a season. As my season winds and I open my front door less and less it becomes apparent that for social media, the time and the season for such an account has passed. I don't regret my time on social media. I made a lot of great friends that either have already followed me/us off platform to other platforms. We've exchanged phone numbers, we text, we email and we even play games from time to time. We keep finding each other everywhere. So, we go. When the time comes that we're done logging in where you once found us, know that if you keep looking... you'll find us again. We really haven't gone anywhere. Just because someone can't see us doesn't mean we disappeared.
Why is Science Missing "First Contact"?Let's begin by defining "First Contact" for the benefit of agreement going forward as I share my "First Contact" Experience. First contact may refer to:
For the benefit of this blog "First Contact"(FC) will be referring to a new Scientific theory that naked to the human eye, sentient Life with consciousness has always existed in symbiosis with humans on Earth. It's this race(s) of beings to which I refer. It is this race(s) of beings, comprised of energy and void of clay, carbon or other mechanics, roams freely without cage. These beings have made "First Contact" with me and my family. We sent out a message of Welcome, Greetings, Peace and Goodwill not expecting anyone would answer. We did it because the old man who used to live here told us about the UFO's that came. So when he passed, we put up the Welcome sign to the Universe. Someone Answered our GreetingTalking about the FC experience has been stressful. We've been cultivated in an environment of fear for so long that we sincerely didn't know what to expect. We expected to be harmed. We expected that our belongings would be taken and our property confiscated. We expected to be kidnapped and we expected to be probed and possibly eaten. (Humanoid fun fact, it's quite unhealthy to eat an Earthly Human) Our fear was met with compassion. They were happy to be here and to be seen. It was cool to be able to experience their presence. It was cool to be able to understand and comprehend them instantly. We didn't experience any confusion over what was transpiring or what the meaning in the Universe was. There was a puzzler. While our experience was in no way unique, what was unique was what was happening simultaneously in the Scientific community. I do not claim to partake in the Scientific Community at large, but something as BIG as actual "First Contact" is monumental. And here I was having it. Had it. Have it daily.... and the Scientists are still saying "Nope. Nothing there." When clearly something is standing right here, She speaks as clearly as you do and they can't see her. Say She doesn't exist. I took some time to really listen to the Scientific community. I listened to lectures, guest speaker panels and conferences on First Contact and what that might look like. So much had a very annihilistic attitude of domination and terror. One young researcher claimed that "music doesn't have a meaning in the cosmos" and that "if we teach chair, how can we expect they could comprehend that." It was a very sad state to realize that our scientific community lacks the wherewithal to be able to discern that, if a sentient life form communicates, maybe the important part isn't the chair at all. It leaves me shaking my head in wonder. She has a message for the Scientific Community. She has some things she'd like to say to them in particular. I don't always feel comfortable delivering her messages but I will tell you this one thing. You're looking in the wrong place. You're thinking with too much dirt, soil, clay, carbon and iron in the way. Escape your coil and your cage and there you will find the Life forms you seek out. They are all right here. Have been the whole time. Every time she tells me She's been here the whole time I see it in a scene out of Mrs. Doubtfire where Sally Field's character is raging at Robin William's unmasked Doubfire as Field's character has her revelation moment that he's been there The Whole Time!There's no point in denying that listening to someone else talk after they missed the point entirely is always a cringeworthy and uncomfortable experience. I don't care what the setting is. If you attended a seminar on computer programming and the attendee next to you's only takeaway was that the markers had a nice odor, you might cringe. If you're at the park, collecting mushroom samples and the people who walk past have their phones out... you know the feeling. It's when something is so radically off about the person you're witnessing or listening to that it is glaring that they truly missed the point. All of us enjoy a feeling of inclusion. We're living in a world now where even the delusional can create for themselves a life experience where even the most outlandish impossibilities are celebrated as possibilities. Take communion for example. People who eat crackers and wine or juice, repeat an incantation that literally translates to pure cannibalism. Is this the path they choose to be on? Do most humans submit to the cannibalist ideology of "eat thy neighbor"? Lawd I hope not. But yet, in theory, Cannibalism or simulated cannibalism is what is commonly practiced amongst Christians when they assemble. Fun Fact, there are 28 different words for Love around the world. There are also 215 synonyms for "Love" in the current thesaurus. Yet, time and time again they have boiled Love to mean.... ONE guy ONE time, this guy only and no other, eat Him. My mouth is so full of Jesus I'm beginning to vomit at even the hint or whiff of Christ off of anything now. It's repugnant that I'm required to tie my worthiness to some guy who at one point in time got himself nailed to a tree. Was it gruesome? Yes, Was it horrible? Yes. But I don't worship gruesome and horror. I worship family. I worship nature. Nature tells me every day in a million gazillion bazillion ways that it loves me just as I am. Just as I am. I am an expression of Love Myself. I don't need a diety to direct me and do my work for me. I'm down here with my family, aligned in purpose for the purpose of unity and harmony to the task of being stewards over a very tiny parcel of land. That's it. That in and of itself is Love. So, enjoy your Jesus Cannibal feast. I'm good. I've had my portion of rotting flesh and watered down blood. My cup runneth over and my mouth speweth bile. Hard fucking pass. So do us all a favor and enjoy your meal of flesh in silence. Be pious. But stop being so goddamn preachy and slapping the "Love" sticker on it and think any of us are going to be buying in. We're not. We've had our portion and then some.
After marinating in the revelation of the Laugh Track I’ve decided to give it a second, third and fourth listen. The subject of the laugh track came up in casual conversation recently at the dinner table. My adult son, 25 felt something was “off” about the laugh track. We don’t live a lazy minded lifestyle. We’re not casual listeners. We’re analytical and curious listeners. We what to know whodunit after listening to the details. We’ll listen to all of it. Every time. As long as it concludes well. But you lose us when the conversations become demeaning, disrespectful and judgement of anyone. As a family we will automatically stop watching things that we feel overtly convey messages and themes that we do not wish to carry forward. And if we do look, it’s not entertainment, it’s study. It’s cold. It’s objective and it’s coming from 2021. So yes, is 2021 taking a long hard look at the 50’s and 60’s when our parents were being heavily influenced by the media. Dark or otherwise, they boldly told Magical women, women they knew were magical, had formerly drowned and hung them for being magical and now they enslaved them domestically as servants pretending to share status, but NOT. There’s never been status to stand next to a white man. To stand beside a white man is to say “this is my owner, this is who possesses me”. It’s simply a fact. If you don’t believe me, do all the homework. I know I’m going to. This is my next thesis. The enslavement of white women by white men. Prove me wrong dudes. You got time. It’s race and I already started. So good luck fellas. I’m onto you and I’ve done my homework. I’m coming for your overt, in YOUR FACE slavery of the Female half of your equation. Shame, shame and fucking MORE fucking SHAME! Shame ShameBefore you do me the kindness of reading my report on rape in American Culture I want to make you aware this is a piece on Rape. If you or a loved one has been raped, you can receive free help from the National Sexual Assault Hotline. There is both telephone support and online chat available. BeWitched Season 1 Episode 3It doesn’t take long into Samantha’s new life to see how she’s about to be treated in her world among white dominant men. It doesn’t take long into the episode to see she’s going to be getting into some deep waters. The writers, directors and producers don’t waste any time getting to the heart of the role’s that women will be playing in the coming decades. It’s quid pro quo every day. It’s quid pro quo at every turn. At every step Sam is expected to cook, host, look fabulous, be charming, available, a slave and open & amenable to advances from any man who might have an impact on their “livelihood.” Samantha is attacked by a would-be rapist in the middle of the episode. After grooming her and grooming her husband, as well as her husband’s boss it was abundantly clear that Samantha was about to be a victim of rape. The build up to the creepy, stalker, “gotcha!” moment was not only predictable it was terrifyingly familiar and palpable. You can visibly SEE the moment that Samantha does all the math and realizes what her options are. What does she choose? She lets him decide for himself. During her attack he bites her and she quickly protects herself by turning him into a dog. A dog. How poetic. Never doubt that any man that is a “dog” bites. He does. Believe him. He finds her alone at the gazebo in the garden by herself. She is still the slave in the scenario. Perfectly coiffed still after having cooked, served and now cleaning after her full house of guests have sated themselves on her labors. She is attacked. He gives her no time to decide or debate. He has an answer for everything because he’s used to getting his way. He’s gotten his way before. This is his modis operandi. The storyline is clear in his rehearsed dialogue and overly familiar moves. She is alone and she is magical and she turned him into a dog. Now… Where’s Darren in all of this? Where is he? Well his face is so far up his bosses ass he can kiss the ass of his client through his bosses lips. He’s checked out of his home and marriage entirely. He isn’t married. He is a slave owner who has hisself a lovely white witch who’s willing and compliant to do his bidding. She lets herself be his slave. He never gives her an option. She never disagrees. She just robots forward in her perfect little dress, in her perfect little home and in her perfect little role. Only it isn’t perfect. She’s still a slave and she’s about to be raped. The dog defense isn’t good enough for Darren who can’t even hear his wife speaking. He does boldly declare he won’t hear her. He does boldly declare that it doesn’t matter what happened in the garden, the client always gets his way as far as Darren is concerned. No matter the cost. Sam deciding this cost is too high, kicks Darren out of the bedroom along with his freshly minted dog/client. The wildest part is, Samantha never stops caring how her husband feels or how he feels towards her. Yet, for more than half the episode Darren doesn’t give a solid fuck about what almost happened to his wife. Her personal safety isn’t a consideration. And he’s an advertising executive in an age where quid pro quo isn’t just typical it’s literal part the landscape AND the package! So he knows up front that at some point in time some client is going to be having his way with his wife. Whether she likes it or agrees to it or not. He’s literally setting his own wife for this moment and completely expects her to suck it up like a trooper. And you can see, she’s not only not having it, she doesn’t understand these men who can’t seem to handle even seeing the sight of her in pajamas. Fully covered, fully clothed pajamas are too inflammatory visually for the men in this episode. Towards the end of the episode, you can see Darren is genuinely broken and contrite. Over what isn’t clear. He doesn’t exhibit a true understanding of his crimes against his wife. She says she forgives him but he’s still refused entry to their room. Wise move Sam. Because as soon as he’s before his restored client, his lips are firmly on the clients ass once more in a pandering move. Samantha, fearless and ferocious is waiting for him outside his husband’s office. So while swilling down a drink in the office, in front of everyone he openly attacks Samantha once more. Darren finally convinced of his wife’s words punches the client and wins the job. Moral of the story… attack the client who tries to rape your wife, take his money and kiss your wife. Follow up comments. As a side note I want to draw attention for a moment to the title of the BeWitched Episode. "It Shouldn't Happen to a Dog". What does that mean? Is this a warning to viewers? Shits about to go down. It's about to go down WITH a dog. And whatever happens to that dog... he doesn't deserve it. That's what they are saying. They are telling us bluntly that what you're about to see next is bad for the dog. What doesn't escape me is the laugh track. At every turn. "I was attacked" (laughter) "He was agressive" (laughter) "Another wife would have behave different" (laughter) Laughter, laughter, laughter. All well groomed. All very sparkling and clean. All perfectly curled and coiffed, but all so damned funny. Because the dog is bad. The dog is so bad that it's funny. Is it supposed to be funny that she's about to be raped? Or that she escaped rape? Is that funny too? I'm asking because from my point of view, rape was never a laughing matter. She fought back the only way she knew how. Magic. Well I can't turn a man into a dog. But I can survive. These old sitcoms are available to watch right now. Right now. So if you're choosing to watch the laugh track of the 60's, know that the men who ruled the world from behind their cameras and their clever dialogue and their insatiable desire for high end fashion, they found rape of women not only common, it was funny. These men found rape funny. If you don't believe me, go watch it for yourself. And see what was so damned funny to the men who built the world in which we live. If you or a loved one has been raped, you can receive free help from the National Sexual Assault Hotline. There is both telephone support and online chat available.
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AuthorMarihemp is presently owner/baker/farmer at Cloverleaf Farms in Door County, Wisconsin. Archives
January 2023
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