Multiple War Paths

 

Wendy Williams banks with Wells Fargo. They determined something was wrong with her via her spending habits and took action to freeze her funds and get her an 'agent', she already had one that was 'helping' her. Anywho, she's a woman ripe with physical body problems and obvious mental ones I don't wish on anyone. I wish a quick death for all but child rapists and mutilators, and then I also want it quick but public. Ol' Wendy is in the news saying she can make good choices and the 'doctors' are saying she has dementia (frontal lobe/bad decision making) the State (a judge) decided. Both of her ex husbands have pasted and she has one child. 

My Mother fell and broke her L1 at the beginning of last year. There was no need for her to stay in hospital for her recovery so they chose a place that was convenient and covered by their insurance, 'Asbury, a place for mom', is what they say, you can read here how they market themselves.. Asbury Place is a recovery care facility and handles dementia patients. My father had but a few hours under distress to find a place. A few days later we will find out they have been closed down and reopened under 'new' management several times, infrastructure problems, care issues and the such, it's almost always the case I'm finding. This was my first time to walk in these specific black and white shoes, that I had been practicing for my entire life. 

This is how it went down...and why I tear it down, mountains of stone, one by one.

I'm in my early 50's, 

an interesting place to be; 

after 2020 everything changed 

it did not go, 'back to normal' 

like Y2K. 

My husband and I hop in our vehicle and make our way across the United States of America, stopping and staying at one of my sisters houses (a badass momjamma, hair a light with a different kind of sight). We take an evening and talk of the days and happenings and then continue on the next day to make quick time. Her husband had been denied care during the rona/boomer remover/covid lock down by individuals following orders that if you did not get the experimental jab you were persona non grata, another story in its entirety. 

My mother is not happy with her 'care'. The night she arrived the attendants that brought her there sat her on a bed and left. Forty five minutes later someone came in to help her, the damage was already done though. Their are actual names attached to the individuals that were compensated for the disastrous care of the woman that carted me to 3 different 'doctors' because I had broken my leg and 2 of the doctors told my Mother, "just make her get up and walk on it." My mother that fought for me and taught me how to walk more than once and how to eat in polite company. 

It's not, 'companies'...it's individuals doing the harm and damage. 

My mom had a broken back and they* sat her on a bed and left her sitting for 45 minutes in the middle of the night. Can you imagine someone with dementia? 

Doctors have already done damage to her by trying to 'fix' her. 

"Can't sleep?" = give some one an SSRI. What the fuck is going on? They don't tell people to get in the sunlight, I also had to relearn.

It's the 3rd day mind you and my mom has her wits about her as she watches what goes on as they place in front of her chipped beef on toast from a can which she doesn't eat. What the fuck is going on, chipped beef is as poisonous for your body as is jarred gravy-it'll get ya one foot closer to your grave every time you absorb it. It's not for a healing body or remotely to be considered for consumption...it's poison and they are serving it in a 'health' facility. I wouldn't server it to my dog, the chipped beef or the jared gravy, you don't do that to people you love or even say you care about.

It was the day after the 3rd night she was there we arrive to my parents abode and get balls started rolling and moving.

Dad, has a code to get us in the 'care' facility.

Doors open for us, and we stroll on in, then another set of doors...

There is no person we can hear or see as my father and husband meander to mom's room. 

I don't meander, I take a look around and open doors and look into places I'm not welcome in the place that was hired to care for my mother who is 79 and has a broken back and does not have dementia and I already know how they have treated her. (Treat) 

She want's out but you see you can't just leave this kind of facility, you have to have permission. We meet with the head guy, his greasy black hair and plaid button down shirt trying to hid is gluttony sits behind a desk as we have words...

greasy gluttony health care man, "We won't let that happen again...we'll have the head nurse meet you and the social worker so you can leave.

Us, "oh we’ll wait a bit but we are leaving"...you see if you don't have their permission you personally will be responsible for payment from your pocket instead of the pocket of the insurance company which you have already paid into but they, the insurance company determines your care...not a 'health' care worker, and even then, most 'health' care workers have no inkling what they are doing in Truth, in total and in Whole being.

A couple hours go by and they want to see if she can walk to the bathroom herself, she can. 

We still haven't met the head nurse...

Head nurse arrives with clip board in hand, 

"Well, I can't release you until I check you in."

What the actual fuck is going on? When was said head nurse going to get around to meet my mother to check in on her 'care' ? We had to wait hours for her to arrive from a different facility as it was because we requested it... 

Don't say, 'she's busy'. Dementia patients or the elderly that have no agency (some one that loves them and want's the best for them) don't fall through the cracks, they are pushed into an oblivion of hell where society hopes no one says too much out loud. 

 

None of this is an anomaly, it's normal you put an elderly person you have no more use for into a facility with others that have no love for the care of yours. 

There is a segment of culture that enjoys to place into the head of the youth that having children is a burden and that the old are useless. What happens when you are old and don’t have any advocate that loves you and wants the best for you? 

Wells Fargo?

Bank of America?

My mother worked hard her whole life, in your own old years what joy of grandchildren with bright smiles with hope for a better future, knowing it's still tough out there, 

Do you know how difficult it is to get a second opinion when it's the insurance companies that choose your actual care, as the attending 'physician' goes down a list of tests or drugs not knowing how to actually treat and care for a whole human. 

None of this has to continue in this manner. Taking care of your elderly parents should be a privilege and an honor. 

Two night ago my mother was having a hard time breathing, they say allergies, rheumatoid arthritis, auto immune...yada Yoda yada...actually all is "Auto immune' after they vector their antigen treatments to the only place they know how with no laser precision the vagus center all the way down. 

That insurance guy that was homicided in New York by Mario out in the open was sold to the watchers on some screens as horrific, "...he was a father and husband..." Isn't Rachael Levin a father as well? Those that ran the program on Chris Beck, the navy seal someone sold him he was a 3rd spirit human and they humiliated him and literally debased him. The individuals are the ones that do evil, not those that correct it. 

As my Heavenly all around father would say, "and?" 

Can we talk about statins and cholesterol next?

Situational Awareness

 

This equinox is where we spring into action, light can reach our feet and we can penetrate to the core now

This is exciting. 

I have a story to tell you

You can walk around and hear it sing a tune 

I reminisce with deja vu

 

This is about the time when I met my daughter for the first time. She was born a few days before the towers came down and the world changed just a bit more. One of the hijackers had attended Florida Insituute of Technology for a while and I always wondered if I had seen him before, walking around the mall where I worked for Les Wexner, or dancing in some club, or perhaps a house event, quiet and unassuming. It was years later though and I was in Arcos del la Frontera when it happened; it was surreal. Our own country had been attacked and hit hard, a bite had been taken out of the apple successfully. 

People were jumping from the buildings that were 110 stories tall splattering on to the sidewalks of New York City before the building would collapse oddly one floor after the other, one on top of the other till rubble, dust, and souls were piled just correct so. 

I reminisce with deja vu

It was 2020 and they* locked the entire world down because the #science (scientists with real names) manipulated a virus to attack humans then released it upon a planet full of people they hate. 

...and then I saw two arches become one. 

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell you a story

Some times I am angry at the ruining of this good world and I have a nice cry because it makes me sad at my base level, where I know something is wrong and I act accordingly. I do not cry out loud, that does no good, I cry quietly to myself, it just makes others uncomfortable to see an actual real emotion, which is different then feelings. Out loud I sing and whistle my tune to the glory of God. 

These days I see people cry because they can not have something they have been taking from others for so long they think it's theirs. Now they find out when the government is so big it can feed and house you it is also big enough to take it away, and how do you take away something that was not theirs in the begin=how can you take away something that is not there?

There is an emergency in the libraries where the librarians police themselves after years of university retard (queer) teaching. Libraries are extremely important, and their keeping has been retarded/queered.

and for a quick leftie thought word reminder skewing, when they* say, "tax the rich" they mean any one that has the ability under the tax code to pay income tax...that's most of my readers. You see, they* get their money, subsidies, out of your hard earned money and they don't work. Some of them are obese (GLP-1 anyone, that will fix a problem and the doctors that prescribed it can hand off to the doctors that save their life, not realizing they are in a loop till they die now) and on disability, grabbing EBT cards (food stamps) while the feign weakness so as to avoid paying the child support to one of his Ex wives or baby mommas 2, 3, 5, 9? children. I described a real person there and they are not of the African persuasion. I am not being mean, actual love is telling the truth, not hiding it under the bed like a half eaten rotten ham sandwich for the pests to nip at. 

...

I live in the west wing of a modest home that to some would seem palatial and to others pedestrian-a home body comparable. The difference in knowing all of the middles and the ends of which humanity ranges not with goods and stuffs but with humanity as a whole made of beautiful individuals, is a gift given when you can See. You take care of your body, you maintain it and control it, outside forces still take tolls but it's how you roll when you hit the ground, shoulder first, and tuck your head. Your home you maintain and keep it tidy, like your mind, there is no need to carry or perch ratty dustballs and hiding rotten no good for nothing in there is certainly not intelligent; from the bad you take a lesson and leave the rest. This is how to move forward in peace with your self. 

I reminisce with deja vu

If you have ever been to the south of Spain and felt the ground which others from another time walked and talked then you will know that which I speak of a time of beauty, peace, and glory. A palace of such splendor only true power knows. 

Operation Eagle Claw

 

Book report time so you have a clear idea what is going on, or you might not, depending on your thought capacity. 

Background

The Dhofar Rebellion was fought from 1963-1976, that's when they 'say' it ended. The Dhofar Liberation Front was a Marxist group, you can call them the Houthi's today, in those days they were backed by East Germany and the Soviets (different than Russians). They had been hard at it trying to take Oman and the area north east of Yemen, the Dhofar region. In 1976 the Liberation front by any other name, went into gorilla mode and later lost funding due to the fall of the Soviets and East Germany, but never stopped. Sometime in the 1990's they were re-funded by Iran (probably funded by money funneled from the United States of America (I don't know the exact year of the infiltration of the communist ideology people (individuals) into the apparatus that is the Federal State of the USA) and probably a few other entities, big and small. 

1966

Sultan bin Said Taimur father of Sultan bin Said Qaboos was the man in charge until his son, Qaboos, over threw him after he had been held under house arrest on return from his education years at Sandhurst and serving in the British Army in the 1st Battalion, The Camaronians. Sultan Qaboos had the backing of Great Britain and the U.S.

1974

The Freedom fighters had arrived to stop the forward push of an ideology that removed the soul from the human, they were there to fight the Dhofar Rebellion and propel Oman into the future.

1st Building, 1st Apartment.

Our new home is a battleship grey concrete 4 story building with no frills, inside and out. A hurricane fence surrounds the egg shaped compound, at this time there are not snipers and machine gun carrying soldiers on our roof top watching over the Sultan's palace with a Birds Eye view, that would come a bit later. All the requirements for our safety in this moment would be an Omani in a dishdasha that would raise the gate when we needed to leave or we were arriving.  

There is one road in the entire country and it's not even a good road. 

I'm three years old and have just had my body cast removed and I don't know how to walk. 

Helicopters in formation are always flying over head, off to war on the other side of the place we called home. 

1975

I'm four years old, time to head to school, Royal Flight, a small concert building, one room for all of us, built for the children of the fighters. We were from the U.S. and the U.K. Back then the United Kingdom consisted of Australia (left in 1984), Canada (left in 1982), and many other territories, they all served the Crown, and we Americans were sovereign with might. 

1978

It was normal for us to vacation in Iran, Lebanon, and Pakistan in those 'days'. 

Early in the year there is a CIA briefing that all is fine and dandy in Iran, no need to worry. We knew this to not be the truth on the ground. National Security Advisor to Carter, and communist to his core, Zbigniew Brazinski, father of Mika, The Morning Joe show on MSNBC, he was the one with the 'bad' information. This is where you should not see incompetence but malice. 

1979

In the beginning of February, Khomeini returns to Iran and we are now persona no grata. 

Our battleship grey building is now maned with snipers and soldiers carrying machine guns. 

The end of February the Queen of England comes for a visit with one of her dearest friends, Sultan bin Said Qaboos. The tension in the region has ramped up.

31 October, everyone arrives for the great all Hallows eve party that is well known to the expats and patriots alike around and chat in the open is on hand, with costumes and masks as is the way of the night when we wake the dead. 

4 November, the United States embassy is taken and 52 Americans are held hostage.

I'm 8 years old. 

"Remember, Remember the 5th of November, gun powder, treason and plot..." The bon fire was huge that year as all gathered, to remember.  

1980

27 January, 6 American hostages fly out undercover in the open with Canadian Passports. You might have seen the film, Operation Argo. 

The talk all around the 'Pan Am' compound was, "how do we rescue the rest of the hostages?"

Some honcho in the U.S. comes up with a retarded plan. 

All of our parents warn and signal sending a fleet of helicopters into Tehran is the dumbest plan and soldiers are going to die. This is our parents forte, they are gorilla fighters, also by any other name, tactics is their game.   

24 April, Operation Eagle Claw commences, it was Delta Forces first mission; 8 soldiers died. 

November, Ronald Reagan is elected.

1981

6 January, I love an epiphany, the hostages are released. 

The snipers and machine gun carrying soldiers remain on top of our buildings as planes fly in and out carrying world leaders, this is where they treated. 

I'm 10 years old and I live in Apartment 1, Building 1, in an armed compound in Seeb, Oman, next to the Sultan's Palace, during a war against communism that no one knew we were even fighting. 

Hijackings become the normal in our world. 

The Dhofar gorilla war is still happening, Iraq is lighting up here and there and Iran is also in play. The Soviets have been in Afghanistan since 1979. 

1982

Some hot month at the end of summer, I took my last swim in the pool at the Khanjar Club where I would eat my chips splashed with vinegar then dipped in catchup, my fingers still wet with pool water as the wicked sun beat down upon us. 

I'm 11 years old 

It was time for me to become an American. 

Be still and listen 

One day I will tell you a story

These were my formative years. 

This is an ideological war. 

It didn't end. 

Dhofar was home of one of the magicians that met the Prophet Jesus

and brought him the gift of Myrrh.

Saint Patrick's Day

 

On this day We wake more dead 

in a trance they were 

We welcome the children of the snake head in

On this day We wake more dead

A tempo to speed up the Universal tread

On this day We wake more dead

Tigers Eye

 

The heavens rumbled above and shook the ground beneath her, the birds tweeted and whistled, grabbing what they could before the sky opened and released a fire storm of fury. 

How do you get a second opinion concerning treatment when insurance companies control health (political) care?

“A second opinion!”

“ You think I’m wrong! How rude.”

My mothers primary care giver, Stop. (add some dots and lines never touched her but her throat as she went down the list of medications the pharmaceutical companies marketed to those that didn’t know anything about how her individual body worked. We are not the same, and we are. 

Side effects were determined not an off shoot.

I still have my mom and dad as they slip sweetly forward, as I track the past. 

Friedel’s Shoes

 

My sister was getting married under the heavens above on the beach and we would all have sand between our toes with the reception in the A-frame that had been rehabilitated that everyone loved and knew. 

It was 2004, the tsunami had hit, and I had 3 children under the age of 3, we are living on Kadena AFB in Okinawa, Japan. My husband was the Director of Operations for the 33 Rescue Squadron and they had deployed to Sri Lanka with their HH-60's that could reach deep into the jungles with what ever it was they were doing. "Junk" had to loan her flack jacket to Anne Curry covering the news (I believe this is when that happened, not an Afghanistan tour (tour...nice word). "Sock's" was my mentor the Commander wife, the best I ever I met. I'd move Heaven and Earth if she asked me, she's a great example of a human being and True Goodness should be seen. We had a wife that was active duty Intel, Kelly-no exceptional name, and thought it would be a great idea to let everyone know she was special and had knowledge we, lowly 'spouses' that 'didn't work', was spreading chitchat that our loved ones and those many of us consider family still to this day were being shot at. It didn't matter if they were or were not, everyone in the helicopter world knows, when you go up, no matter mission or training, it's the down that matters and an auto rotate can't fix everything. It caused distress and fear which wears a fray in a psyche and it reflects in the home. 

I was carrying my LittleGuy at my chest, the third time of it's use baby Bjorn, as I pushed my BrownNut and LoveBugMy in their double stroller up and down the hills of a tropical paradise, managing nothing and everything around me. What couldn't be seen by most was a horrific sight to some. The dead were grabbing at my ankles pulling me down trying to capture what was a happy life. Okinawa and the psyche are not for the faint of heart. There was only one place I ever found a peace there, up a medium sized hill under the lush jungle there's a waterfall, if you move a bit further into the jungle you can hear it. I was able to speak calmly to the dead that waved and flowed on that island in the most unexpected places where in despair families would jump off cliffs then have known what would happen to their bodies before their lives would be shortened, by a soldier. 

I start making reservations for travel with my 3 little ones under 3 so we can attend my sisters wedding and the family can finally meet the newest member, LittleGuy. 

And then I received a notice from the airlines that I was not 'allowed' to travel alone with 3 little ones under the age of 3. 

My sister’s soon to be mother in law jumped as high as could and said, "I'll go help and travel with them!" in her beautiful German accent. I'd never met her before and she was going to travel across the world to help someone she already considered family, my 3 and me.

Her name was Friedel, her husband is Hans, my sister takes care of him now till his time. 

It was the early 1940s, Friedal, her sister, and mother would never see her father again because he was Jewish. 

Hans was lucky, he got to work on a farm, his father was a business man and not Jewish. 

you either get on living or start dying young. 

Friedel loved with a passion, her family, any activity put forth to her was never a chore. She loved Germany to her core and kept a picture at the top left of her collage above her desk of all her favorite people in the world, and only one place was represented her old home country, a lake with a fountain shooting water high into the air, street lamps lining the edge of the salmon coloured brick pedestrian way and stately old building of importance in the background, this photograph of this place she loved is flanked by two patches flying the German colours. This country Germany where Friedel and Hans met, they were lucky they were on the West side of Germany after the war. This country Germany that Friedel loved so much even though the real Nazis took her father from their family. 

My mom said she had a pair of crocks from me to wear in the garden and told me they had been Friedel's from when she and Hans would visit and walk among the peace of birds and gardens when they would reminisce about the old times with truth in their hearts and being grateful for their families and always with hope we could have a new start.  

Friedel’s pink shoes fit me just right.

Can we stop a war if done just right?