The Secret to Eternal Youth

Hallelujah! Eureka!  I solved the secret to eternal youth for under a buck! Where is my Pulitzer prize?

 

I have discovered the secret to eternal youth. Well, I'm over 50, so eternal youth is anything below 40. But over the last 4 months, I not only feel like twenty, but I'm being treated like I am. Poof!! 

Through careful observation and first-hand experience, I noticed that an awful lot of young men were chatting me up in the dog run.

And I would catch them peeking at me when they thought I was not looking. Something strange was up. What could it be?  So I thought to myself,  yes, there are young men who have a thing for older women, but this was out of control.

All of a sudden, they everywhere following  me around in the grocery store, asking me weird things  like, "where can I buy asparagus  and is the fried tofu any good?"

I hadn't got this much attention since...I can't remember when. And then, Eureka! It hit me. These guys had no idea how old I was.  All they saw was the hair and the eye make-up that I applied carefully and heavily every day because it was the only thing anyone saw.

In the time of COVID, I have stumbled on the secret. Yep. After all these years of women paying for skin creams,  getting plastic surgery and injections, changing their diet, taking supplements, and drinking smoothies. Who knew the answer was so simple.

 I am here to tell you that all you need to harness eternal youth are two simple things. First, wear a  COVID mask, and second, focus on heavy eye make-up.

Eyes are the windows to the soul, but they are also age resistant.  True, a couple of crows feet walk here and there, but that's an easy cover up with a good foundation.

So ladies no matter what your age, all the guys see is your eyes. The rest is left up to the imagination. And if there is anything men can find do well when it comes to women, is imagine what women might look like. 

Enjoy being chatted up but be responsible, because these young men can be your sons, so treat them that way. 

Let's have fun but don't let it get to your head. Because when the masks come off, age goes on.

Bam! 

Let's stay safe and sexy together!

Kay 

Elinor Sullivan Shut Down her lab of tourtue

 PETA sent me some information about another Animal experiment named Elinor Sullivan. She'd trying to figure out if eating a lot of junk food affects a baby. Yep that cost us over 5.2 million in tax dollars for the years 2011 to 2019. What do you think? Can eating junk food every day during pregnancy affect an infant? Yes or No. If you picked YES you too can make 5 million dollars. 

As many or you may or may not no I believe that people who experiment on animals are serial killers in the making who will not make the leap to humans because their victims are endless. They are technically known as Zoosadists because they work with animals.  I also believe that there is a severe psychosocial condition that demands immediate removal from society as large and intensive psychiatric treatment to interfere with the impulse to terrorize, brutalized murder, and create an environment in which a creature pisses itself just upon seeing you.  

 So you know where I stand. Overtime writing about such abominations I have observed that many of them are women. This strikes me as odd because women are considered nurturing. But over the last couple of years, I have been coming across mot and more women who work and run labs that focus on brutal twisted animal experiments. And if you read my article of Elizbeth Murray I take the time to semiological describe her are the girl next door. And now another is that fits the bill Elinor Sullivan  the girl next door who loves dogs and gardening. Just looking at her I would be proud to have her as my daughter. No make-up fresh face natural approachable, sensible.

But peel that back and a monster is revealed. In her lab, lots of "torture sports" occur. Snatching small baby monkey's from their mothers and put then in steel cages alone. Some freeze in terror others screech in horror. They are now part of a (HIT) experiment. It's called the Human Intruders Experiment. I kid you not. 

The idea of this experiment is to stare at the little one until it breaks down in terror and submission urinating on itself. That just one of the fun things Elinor Sullivan does at work. .That's a fun day at work but it doesn't stop there!

Sullivan has to impregnate mothers and then force-feed them junk food and when they give birth their tiny babies are pulled from the womb have their head cut off, Their brains are craked opened to see if the junk food diet made a difference. This, of course, has to compared to healthy mothers and babies.  

Dr. Lisa Jone-Engel,  a primatologist who review the recording of Sullivans videos and research, believed the experiments introduce far too many unaccounted for variables"

in 2010 Elinor Sullivan removed monkey fetuses from their mothers. I wonder did they have to kill the mother to do that or just cut her stomach open. They would quicked separated them 11 in total and remove their brain.  IN another Sullivan and her colleague forced monkeys to run on treadmills at increasing speels until they collapsed from exhaustion. 

IN 2018 she published the result of an experiment in which half the female monkeys' pregnancies ended in miscarriage because the animals, who live in a clearly delineated hierarchical structure were thrown together as a stranger, resulting in an unstable group environment.  (PETA)

And that same year she published an experiment in which 7 month-old monkeys were killed by exsanguination which means bleeding to death.  That must have been one hell of an afternoon. PETA

What can you do? call the  Organon National Primate Research Center (ONPRO)

Email Elinor Sullivan and pray because if this is the beginning of the journey of her career the rest is sure to be a bloodbath of torture and terror she must be stopped and treated before she turns into something we do not  want to see. And,...beware the girl next door. 

Book Review OIiver Twist by Charles Dickens

 

Charles Dickens is one of the great literary giants of our time. He was also an activist for social justice in the Victorian Era in London, England, which spanned from 1837 to 1901. In the book Oliver Twist, Dickens brings to light the horrible lives and perceptions of children. The rule of thumb of the time was that children should be seen and not heard. Because of this, they were also enslaved, abused, tortured, and forced to work under deadly conditions. Children were sent into the coal mines deep into the ground; many never emerged. Orphanages were full of unwanted children, and cruel businessman had their pick.  If Dicken’s did not write about this, many important details of that time of the treatment of children would be lost.  Dickens was well aware of the importance of being a historian, a sociologist, an economist, and how to weave those elements together into storytelling that will last for ages.

This subject was purposeful. Charles Dicken wanted to reveal the horrors of child abuse so he could initiate change. No question he was an activist writer.

What few know about the enormous volume of works by Charles Dickens is that he is the granddaddy of the soap opera form that we know and love today. And some could argue the comic book form as a pictorial genre. You see, Oliver Twist was not written as one big book. It was distributed over time between 1837 and 1939 in serial book form. Hundreds of people would anxiously wait on the docks of London for a boat carrying the next chapter of Oliver Twist to be delivered.

What will happen next? Will it be dreadful and horrible or loving and kind.

We first meet Oliver in an orphanage run by a vile, abusive woman Mrs. Coenry who soon discovers that the state pays her more to take the dead bodies of children away rather than feed them. This is the place where Oliver starts his operatic soap journey from hopeless and helpless to loved and cherished and back again.  Good and kind, pure of heart and soul, would Oliver be able to navigate his way through this cruel world?

 If it wasn’t for Mr. Gamefield who picked Oliver to become a chimney sweep, he would have most certainly died. Child labor was part of the economy, and the children were grateful to be saved from an orphanage and paid with a little food and water. The chimney sweep was widespread child labor. Our main protagonist Oliver Twist is forced to work in this profession. On a daily bases, he was sent up a chimney full of soot, grease, and charred remains of bones. He was small and could fit, and up he would ascend with a broom and try to sweep the chimney clean, descending again covered in ash unable to breathe.  

Many small children died in that way. Some got stuck. To unstick them, their owners would set the hearth on fire with hopes the boys so terrified by the flames would scurry to the top…it worked some of the time.  But children were considered replaceable, and the orphanage was full of more boys.

And so little Oliver’s adventures begin like a boat tossed in the waves. Good happens than bad and good again. Evil people try to hurt him, and good people fight to help him, and when will it ever end? 

Oliver meets the kind Mr. Brownlow who wants to adopt him. But in a horrible twist of fate, Oliver is kidnapped and made a pickpocket by a dangerous street gang led by the Monstrous  Bill Sikes, who employs unwanted children in his criminal enterprise, and his partner Fagan who converteds the stolen treasures into cash. Here, Oliver meets Nancy, a lady of the night with a kind heart who is murdered for helping Oliver escape.  

And there are more cunning twists and zigzags that will leave you on the edge of your seat. Finally, after an exhausting journey, the stars align. Quite by accident, Oliver finds his way back, Mr. Brownlow, who and with the help daughter beautiful, kind, and innocent Rose, discover a very curious mystery. Who is this, Oliver?  Friend or foe?

What will happen to little Oliver? Will he escape the life of a pocket? Would Mr. Brownlow be able to save him, or would the kind Rose love him? Would he live happily ever after or die a horrible death? Or could it be something in between?

If you want some answers to those questions, I suggest you pick up this Classic, hold on tight, and get ready to ride this rollercoaster.

Linda Rosen Dry Bandages Review: This Story needs a Bandage

This Story Needs a Bandage

Review of short story Dry Bandages by Linda Rosen 20/20

Every once in awhile I come across a writer that does not make sense to me. Ms. Rosen is one of those. Before the pandemic, she was part of a panel of experts at the Delray Beach Library to discuss crafting a short story. This event was promoted by the Women National Book Association so being a paying member I thought I'd go. Ms. Rosen represented herself to an audience of writers as an expert on the art of story writing. To get to that point she would have to have an intimate knowledge of non-negotiable structuralist denominators,  character development, and plotline advancement. 

I was happy to be a part of the talk and invite learning. Sadly,  nothing could be further from the truth. 

I was hoodwinked into accepting the advice of someone who was not a specialist in any of these things but rather a butcher of all.  Who. What. Where. When. How? Ms. Rosen has heard of none of these short story rules. The WNBA  of South Florida run by President Andrea Baron used their platform to mislead attendees into believing that they were learning from an experienced writer.  Writing is a wonderful craft but when you play professional and impart knowledge you will get the professional back. So I am sorry I could not be more encouraging or supportive.  I am reviewing a piece put in front of me with questionable publishing credits. 

Mrs. Rosen's story Dry Bandages is missing the most basic element of any story ever known to mankind, the character arch! This is the glue of the story which moves the charter from one state of being to another either to grow in a positive or negative way.  Without it, Dry Bandages is a non-story;  served on a lime green plate, piled six inches high, with hundreds of neon pink question marks about two inches long. 

 It's a story of so many questions and no structural elements. Ms. Rosen is not a person qualified to teach anyone how to write short stories. And if she did not infiltrate herself on the board of the Women's National Book Association South Florida Chapter as Vice President and Vice President of Programming, Ms. Rosen would be taking a course on the basics of writing.  Can you spell conflict of interest?  Onward with the review. 

We meet the main character Diane who is lying in a hospital bed after an "accident." We don't know her age, ethnicity where she lives but we do know her hair is red.  We also know she's got twelve stitches on her forehead, her nose is packed with gauze because it was broken? Her face is bound up like a mummy.  Is this a mystery story? Sadly not.  There are so many things we don't know. 

We don't know anything about her "accident."  Was she sitting on a beach and coconut hit her on the head at the same time a gang of sea lice crawled up her bathing suit? Did she open the refrigerator in a drunken stupor and hit herself? Was she beaten up? Did someone take a short story collection and hit her in the face? 

But we do know her husband's name. It's  Stan. We don't know what he looks like, what he does why he's even there, what time of day it is, or if he had lunch.

The climax of the story occurs when Diane wants a kiss from Stan. He won't give it to her and I'm not sure why. (More things we don't know.) Does she stink of pus? Is he allergic to gauze? Was he going to ask her for a divorce before the mystery accident? Is she annoying? Does her red hair smell funny?

Whatever it is Diane is upset her won't kiss her under all those bloody smelly bandages that she begins to cry, and Stan reminds her in a children's rhyme, "Please don't cry. the bandages have to stay dry." Yep, that's his advice to his wife after a life-changing accident.

And it just gets worse when her brother-in-law Josh the doctor enters who looks like who? And is from where?  And works in what hospital? And is how old?  But nonetheless, he braves the bandages and gives her a kiss and she purses her lips and struggles to hold back her tears.

In conclusion, dry bandages should be used to wrap this story up and rework. 

Everyone deserves a second chance, right?

Her second short story Ms. Rosen is consistent. No character arch, no crafting or any required elements that define short stories or any stories  EVER.  Through the Peep Hole" is s racist stereotypical portrayal of a man with "onyx shin" who's body smells "festers in her nose, cigarette, armpits tobacco, and sweat," mugs her outside of her apartment door and low and behold realizes he's got the wrong white  girl.  

This is the archetype of the "brute black man" which has plagued literature since the 30's. 

The Brute, instead of leaving  grabs her purse, hands it to her politely asks for 5 dollars for a cab -which would get you two blocks NYC. What if she only had credit cards, what would happen then? So he leaves and she waits. THE END.

(The publication The Dying Goose cannot be found and the publication Cracked the Spine had no search of her work) 

Short story 101 is where Ms. Rosen belongs not on a panel of "experts" to discuss the elements of short story writing. She should also study why racist stereotypes are so dangerous.

It's Torture to be Tasty

Tiny little newborn eyes still blue from birthing
      you will be  paralyzed by fear and darkness and isolation
you will go blind
you body will wither
you  will never walk or be able to raise your head
That makes your meat white...

And Tasty

You will be manufactured into the world
defecated into a small trough.

You will never see your mother
know your mother, or smell your  mother

You will never know that  a mother can feed you.

You are just a baby calf an infant a wee one.

You mother.

 She has been trough this many times before.

Her uterus no knows other state
 only  pregnant
Every year 15 years

She is dairy cow
only for milk

  

her tiny babies dropped in many troughs
her  spirit and mind are broke

she will not miss you.

You are an infant little one a Tiny baby with fuzzy hair.

you will be dropped covered  placenta,

your umbilical chord tied to a screaming cow

Bleating for your mother
upside down in filth

  You only existed while in her womb.     
a womb that has been ripped apart from trauma until
used she will go to slaughter

The farmer will get his money's worth.

With your first breath you exist no more.

 Because you are male you can't be dairy, you can't be milked
and you will be buried alive in a pit of despair.

In darkness.
 In plastic huts.
As far as the eye can see.
Millions, billions.
Acres and miles

 Sun.
Baked.
Little baby living in a sauna

You will be  made mad from isolation
blind from darkness.
This we know,
                           "The effects of 6 months of total isolation were so deestating and debilitating that we had assumed initially that twelve monte of isolation would not procuduce and additional decrement.
This assumption proved to be false twelve months of isolating obliterated the animal's psyche". (Harlow)

You will know panic and desperation
and your cripped tiny legs will never know to walk.
You muscles will never grow.
You will not know stand

You are just a baby a tiny infant little one.

Your eyes just open an hour ago
They are still blue

You will be thrown into a pit of despair
a garbage baby
and will be driven mad by isolation, darkness and pain,

You will need him to eat
 and a feeding tube will be  shoved down your throat

This is because Tiny infants isolated like you will often stop eating.
And you would become a loss for the factory farm

You will be left to age like a fine wine in a little plastic hut miles of your brethren you shall suffer

You are just a  newborn, an infant.
a Wee one with fizzy hair

they will call you Baby bobe

Your to be fed in intervals so violently that the force of the food will jolt your tiny stomach,
You will wake and your headwill bob up and down every four hours 24 hours a day
Up and Down
Up and Down
Up and Dow
for at least a year.
Your psyche will be obliterated 

Hundreds and thousand and millions of you in your huts bobbing up and down in concert ever four hours.

You will not know sleep only exhaustion but your mind will be kind it will descend into madness and protect you from the terrors

But you are just a tiny one an infant
a  baby

When the violent pumping stops when  your  stomach almost bursts you will he shit on yourself uncontrollably.
You will feel ashamed

The water will fall from the ceiling to clean you.
Soon you will not understand cleanliness from filth.
It will not matter for you.

You are just a baby.

Between feedings you lay on the floor in the darkness. Your neck
You will never lift your head

You will not  know life without cry, without pain without sadness

You are a newborn  tiny infant

You will age alive in your little plastic hut of tortures
Heaving in silence for you mother until your stomac cramps the feeing interfering with your cries
abd you can cry no more
How many days?
How many hours?
How many monthes
with the chorus of thousands of silence heaves are silenced
in the living groves of hell that surrounds you
We do not know there is no one around to hear you.

 You will never know one like you.

You are a little one
A sweet one

And when that door opens and you nostrils fill with fresh air for the first time in you life
you lift your bind eyes to the sky.

You will know life but death will come swift.
"Hear his heart kill him quickly" the angels sin.

You will be called Veal.
And you will be slaughtered

You will be  cut you up in little medallions
dip in egg

then breadcrumb and fried in olive oil.

We we call you Veal little one.
Born of  flesh born of pain and torture.

But  You are just a little one a baby an infant.

We will order you with fettuccine Alfredo as a side.
We will ingest the flesh,
ripe with toxins from the trauma

Stomach acids will break you down and
I will deficate you,
 just as your mother did

and flush you away

Tiny little newborn

Sweet infant 

With eyes still blue from biry

Now you are Milk fed Veal

You are Gods creature but you are mans shame.

Prayer for new love from me to you

 I send special energies to you and your little girl. 
Let the season turn till both of you look one another in the eyes once again. 

Let you heal one another and may that grow into a deeper love.

Aaron Raby Elephant Killer, Merciless Murderer Torturer

After I puked from watching Aaron Raby the merciless killer from California shoot a curious Elephant as it approached him hoping for a bite of watermelon. I took out my trusty pen...

Aaron Raby proud murderer

Crux Sancti Patris Benedicti

How does a mother raise a son like he.What is in him that desires death for a beast so loved?

I maintain this is his sexual fetish. It's not only killing murder and torture but Aaron Raby is an exhibitionist and needs to be seen and videotaped making his personal porn movie.

And like a serial killer, he needs a trophy so he kills a living being, skins it, stuffs it and puts it in his wall. In the case of the elephant he murdered he cut off the tail and some have said he injested a piece of her flesh like a cannibal.

If he makes the leap to hunting humans (which is more likely than not) we should be afraid, very afraid.

 Maya Angelou said,: "When they tell you who they are the first time believe them!"

Arron Raby has announced to the entire world that he is an abomination and affront to mankind.

POEM  A sweet soul and the Devil

Crux Sacre Sit Mihi Lux!

Nonquam draco sit mihi dux.

And the big game hunter, hard between his legs eager to kill.

BANG! he shoots the elephant. Stunned he fallto his knees thinking, "I was on my way to say hello funny two feet friend how can you taste a fruit without a trunk silly. What fell from the tree that hurts so bad."

BANG!  

I cannot see I will try to get up and run away 

BANG! BANG!

 Again and again, he rolled  and struggled to stand.

  Where is my  family I can't scream, pain pain. The BANG! is bad.  Time to run. 

Blood fills his  head.

My little infant go with your sister run from the BANG! Save my little one. Is the Bang from the funny two feet elephant with no trunk? I was just curious to see if there was watermelon for me! Why would they want to...Please God may my family never see the Bang Bang man.... maybe he will save me. Mama....

BANG! His pants get wet. The Hunter is spent but not finished.

He cuts off my beautiful little tail,

the one that wagged hello greetings my friend and takes a bite of my flesh to ingest my beauty into his demonic stomach acid. He poses with me and takes a shit later that night.

Vade retro Santana!
Nonquane Suade Mihi Vana

END

And that is why we should be alarmed when we see children hurt animals. It is a sign of deep psychological disturbance which has been known to make a serial killer or two.

The sick part is the sexual component of this blood bath. A fetish. whether that be bondage or spanking or hunting goes awry when that act is the  ONLY sexual release for the participant. And when a tolerance level achieved the act must be intensified to satisfy.  

It seems like Aaron Raby can only cum is if he murderering killing and torturing animals specifically big game.

And that my friends is a person who is a danger to themselves and others and should be detained into a max security psychiatric institution.

Sunt mala Que Liba
Ipse vena Bibas!

Below are pictures of Aaron Raby in his sticky wet pants and God's creatures and God does not like ugly and Aaron Raby is an ugly ugly abomination.

M

 

IS AOC a bigger bully than Trump

Who's the Bully Now?

Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez you broke my heart tonight. What made you feel that tonight was a good time to snub such a good person like Joe Biden? You tried to ruin the most impotant day of his life. Why take that away from another person? Maybe you and Trump are more alike than I thought.

I would have never believed you were capable of that. You would fit in very nicely on Trump' s team. You chose cruely instead of kindness and I wish you had never spoken tonight. Who is the bully now?

Dr. Elisabeth Murray a Zoosadist?

Jump to search

 Zoosadism is a pleasure derived from cruelty to animals. It is part of the Macdonald triad set to three behaviors that are considered a precursor to psychopathic behavior.

Let me ask you this. Is it possible to make living experimenting on animals by torturing them in all kinds of sadistic ways and not enjoy it on some level?

May I introduce to you Dr. Elisabeth Murray Senior Investigator in the Laboratory of Neuropsychology at the National Institute Mental Health.  For over 30 years our government has thrown approximately 36 million dollars to conduct her research. Take a close look...

At first glance she seems like a stereotypical school teacher but look closer, there is a method to her madness. 

(Here's where I get to show off my semiological skills. Semiology is the study of how signs and symbols work in culture to elicit emotions. for example, when you see red it's likely we think of love, sex excitement.)

Now check out Elisabeth or Betsy as she likes to call herself which she spells with a small "b". Betsy is a common debutante name. The fact that she uses a small 'b' is so people do not assume she comes from a privileged background. She is humble yet has a campy sense of humor. She can laugh at herself. 

 Everything she is wearing is branded to make her seem trustworthy, simple fair, kind and hard-working. If she were accused of torturing and killing monkeys in her lab you'd tell me to take a hike. 

 The frameless glasses, the lack of earrings or necklace makes her seem down to earth and sensible. Her overly thick hair looks like she's done her best to style it and is waiting to afford the next salon trip rather than to put it on a credit card and go into debt. 

Notice the color of the jacket. Navy would have made her seem administrative and strict. Instead, she picked a muted electric blue, off the rack with oversize shoulders to accentuate her small frame. That says , "I'd like to be full of the energy action and excitement"  that  pure  electric blue means but I like to temper those emotions wuth a muted tone which say, "I can make sensible judgments that are fair to all."  

One morning Dr. Murray got up and said to herself. "I need a new house and I need to figure out a study to get that extra funding. "So while she had tea and a crumpet she thought and thought and then...

"Eureka! "I've got it! Here's what I'll do, I'm going to study fear in monkeys by cutting around the frontal lobe that houses fear. 

 It's easy to take one of God's creatures drill open its skull, pull out a chunk of brain or better yet burn a section giving them irreversible brain damage. Then when the mentally broken creature wakes I will trap it on a small metal cage so it can barely turn around and then. since monkeys instinctually fear snakes I'll show them some and see if the creatures urinate in terror or freezes in a little ball or shake uncontrollably. Then I can say I am studying fear responses in primates! I'm going to order some monkeys and have them delivered to my lab!"

And that's exactly what Dr. Elisabeth Murray did. Now I ask you this. If she wasn't a doctor and didn't have a lab and was just a person on the street who tortured animals would they not be considered a serial killer or certainly on their way to becoming one? 

 I believe that this is a type of serial killer because to be a serial killer there had to be a three-person baseline limit but I believe there is another type of serial killer a more intellectual self-disciplined type who has made a decision never to move on to commit such atrocities on their fellow humans. And if you were that type of killer where is the best place to hide?

 How about behind a Ph'd in a lab that experiments with animals which will supply you with endless victims on which you can torture as much as you want and get paid. And that's exactly where this type of serial killer lives. And the closest they get to man are primates. 

I would also suggest that people who experiment on primates or any other animals are serial killers whose primary motive is to seek the adrenalin rush derived by hunting and killing their victims.


Criminologist Jose Sanchez has observed that what sets this type of personality apart from the rest of us is the lack of empathy for their victims. 

To experiment on animals and be able to look into their eyes at the terror your presence bring to their soul takes a lack of empathy that is antithetical to being human. The primary motive of a thrill killer is to induce pain or terror in their victims, which provides stimulation and excitement for the killer. They seek the adrenaline rush provided by hunting and killing victims.

So while using the term Serial Killer cannot apply to those who experiment on animals I believe there is a subset called Zoosadist Serial Killers and they must be contained and given treatment for the psychopathic behavious that they exhibit. It's a good thing Dr. Murray works in Mental Health. Let us pray that her loved ones convince her to get the help she so desperately needs and her assistants as well. She could not do this alone. 

Here she is proud, smiling and getting ready to study;

Decision making in the Primate Prefrontal Cortex. 

And what does that mean? Elisabeth will be cutting out a piece of the brain of a terrorized beautiful creature that soils itself in horror as she enters the room. Clearly, she gets immense pleasure from her work in her house of horrors. So it is a Zoosadist that looks at us happily and then turns around to drill into a screaming monkey's brain, cut out a piece, sew it back wait till the creature wakes in shock and pain it's world irreparably fractured and then tries to elicit terror in the poor creature. Yep. There she is smiling at us. 

Feel free to email her the prayer below or ask her politely to reconsider the goals of her professional life.
murraye@mail.nih.gov

Dear God,

Help Dr. Elisabeth Murray and her colleagues to get the help that they need and cease their animals' experiments immediately. Give them the ability to feel great empathy and respect and love for all your creatures which will block their ability to perform the tasks of torture and pain for which they are paid and for which some if not all derive an abnormal thrill. Make them look into the watery eyes of the speechless ones they set upon to torture and make them understand that their presence makes a creature soil itself in terror because they exist.  Let them feel shame and pain and sicken their souls so they cannot do their evil work. And let them feel your light when they stop look away and can do no more. 

And when they get well let them take pictures and videotape and release all proof of their sins to animal rights groups.  Let them atone by finding other ways in which to understand the world around them and make a living for themselves and their families by protecting and preserving and helping the creatures that they once terrorized. 

And please God encourage them to write and speak and tell what the rest of us can never know. What is it in them that allows them to absorb the terror and pain of another over and over again? What parts of being human must they cut out of themselves?  And God if they get pleasure from their acts may the medical community of mental health descend upon them, strap them down, institutionalize them, and keep them from passing their infection to others. May they be contained and healed. 

May their genetic seed never pass that ability to another.

And that includes you Dr. Elisabeth Murray.

AMEN

The Women's National Book Association promotes racist writer Linda Rosen

 No character arch, crafting, or any required elements that define this short story exist, and the imagery is racist stereotyped the black man as the "archetypal brute." Keep in mind Ms. Rosen is in a position of power. She holds four board positions, Vice President and Events Coordinator of South Florida chapter of the Women's National Book Association and Secretary of the Head Office in New York City, and the Great Group Reads coordinator.  She sets the tone. She is an example of what is acceptable and what is not, and racist literature apparently is welcome, not just in the WNBA of South Florida but in the WNBA as a whole.  Natalie Obando, the President of the Organization, and Julie Frey-The Communications Chair have issued their public support on this matter.  

 

 Through the Peep Hole," a short story by Linda Rosen, is a stereotypical portrayal of a man with "onyx shin" who has a "repugnant odor of armpits and cigarette smells,"  who may or may not rape the protagonist, a white woman. He breaks into her apartment moments after she has just finished eating a tuna fish sandwich. (Again with smell) Is this a fetish?

 

WORDS MATTER Ms. Rosen

WORDS MATTER WNBA

 It's sad that in this climate of Black Lives Matter that a writer would waste time with exclusionary hurtful and harmful words and post it proudly on her website. I guess she wants to make it clear where she stands, and she does. 

 Ms. Rosen is he is featured on the WNBA website and sponsored to give readings. In any other organization, she would be asked to resign from her board positions. But for some reason, the WNBA who feeds off grants to promote women of color has absolutely no problem upholding what a racist short story by Linda Rosen is. In fact, Great Good Reads f division, which the WNBA controls, encourages writers to be part of them with"voices no matter how distasteful," and that would include hate literature. 

The main character is a stereotype of a black man who, and I quote, has "a pungent odor of cigarettes, armpits, and sweat" and also attacks a white woman.

This is the archetype of the "brute man" who targets helpless victims, especially white women, and can be traced back to the writer Charles H. Smith in 1892. It is a firmly entrenched stereotype that "links a black man to danger and negative stereotypes hard Black Americans at every turn." (Scientific America Dr. Katie Milkman 2010).

 We meet the "onyx skinned" man outside her apartment in Manhattan, and he thrusts his way in because she didn't use the peephole to check first. As he pulls her inside, she thinks he might use a switchblade, has a gun, exa, or rape her because, in the author's mind, that is what big " onyx-skinned" men do to white women. They hang outside their apartments, waiting to assault them. 

 The story  fixates on the smell of the man; it "festers in her nose, cigarette, armpits tobacco, and sweat." The man with "a voice as low as his onyx shin"  enters her apartment like a "cat pouncing on a sparrow." (Was that a black cat Ms. Rosen?) And then low and behold, he realizes he's got the wrong white woman (they all look the same), and instead of leaving immediately he grabs her purse, hands it to her politely, and asks for 5 dollars for a cab -which would get him down two blocks in NYC. 

What if she only had credit cards? What would happen then?

After he leaves, she doesn't call the police; she starts cleaning the apartment from "the putrid smell( he left) penetrating my furniture, my clothes, my hair."

 So the "onyx-skinned" man who smells like "armpits" leaves an odor so "pungent and revolting" that she will remember that smell for a lifetime. Even if she gets Alzheimer's and doesn't remember a thing, she'll remember his smells.

The real question to ask this writer is why smells on a man with "onyx skin" are "putrid," but if we look a little deeper, I think this is a pseudo-sexual thing going on. The story is peppered with words that hint at the truth.  She "gulps down big breaths, "squats" in front of cabinets, sits "erect" her neck is "hammered" Her "carotid pulses" Methinks the lady promoted by the WBBA  doth protest too much!  

In any case, the "man with a voice as deep as his onyx skin" leaves to get a cab to find the right white woman to mug and maybe rape?  

(The publication that the author points to, The Dying Goose, cannot be found, and the publication Cracked the Spine had no search of her work... they should both be relieved) 

This author has made it very clear where she stands, and so does the WNBA of South Florida and New York City head office. 

 

WORDS MATTER 

 

 

 

Happy Farms my Ass

If you look at this bag of cheese it's got all the feel good consumer words;
1. Happiest
2. Farms

Hell there is even a picture of a happy cow grazing! Information like this is false and  misleading

It is a factory farm.
A chamber of torture for the cows who are kept perpetually pregnant giving birth to babies they deficate into a trough that waits behind them.

And I can't help thinking...
The farming industry is immune to full disclosure which is
ironic because we live in an age that demands  full disclosure.

Why can't I visit Happy Farms? Why is there no information on the Internet when I Googled Happy Farms.

How is it possible that a farm of this size in  Illinois can hide all information including location?

Because factory farms are not happy they are houses of horror and if you saw what was taking place inside you would never eat animal flesh or things made through  animals flesh again.  Start now save a cow. Then we can all be truly happy together.

Is Dr. Elisabeth Murray a Zoosadist?

Jump to search

 Zoosadism is a pleasure derived from cruelty to animals. It is part of the Macdonald triad set to three behaviors that are considered a precursor to psychopathic behavior.

Let me ask you this. Is it possible to make living experimenting on animals by torturing them in all kinds of sadistic ways and not enjoy it on some level?

May I introduce to you Dr. Elisabeth Murray Senior Investigator in the Laboratory of Neuropsychology at the National Institute Mental Health.  For over 30 years our government has thrown approximately 36 million dollars to conduct her research. Take a close look...

At first glance she seems like a stereotypical school teacher but look closer, there is a method to her madness. 

(Here's where I get to show off my semiological skills. Semiology is the study of how signs and symbols work in culture to elicit emotions. for example, when you see red it's likely we think of love, sex excitement.)

Now check out Elisabeth or Betsy as she likes to call herself which she spells with a small "b". Betsy is a common debutante name. The fact that she uses a small 'b' is so people do not assume she comes from a privileged background. She is humble yet has a campy sense of humor. She can laugh at herself. 

 Everything she is wearing is branded to make her seem trustworthy, simple fair, kind and hard-working. If she were accused of torturing and killing monkeys in her lab you'd tell me to take a hike. 

 The frameless glasses, the lack of earrings or necklace makes her seem down to earth and sensible. Her overly thick hair looks like she's done her best to style it and is waiting to afford the next salon trip rather than to put it on a credit card and go into debt. 

Notice the color of the jacket. Navy would have made her seem administrative and strict. Instead, she picked a muted electric blue, off the rack with oversize shoulders to accentuate her small frame. That says , "I'd like to be full of the energy action and excitement"  that  pure  electric blue means but I like to temper those emotions wuth a muted tone which say, "I can make sensible judgments that are fair to all."  

One morning Dr. Murray got up and said to herself. "I need a new house and I need to figure out a study to get that extra funding. "So while she had tea and a crumpet she thought and thought and then...

"Eureka! "I've got it! Here's what I'll do, I'm going to study fear in monkeys by cutting around the frontal lobe that houses fear. 

 It's easy to take one of God's creatures drill open its skull, pull out a chunk of brain or better yet burn a section giving them irreversible brain damage. Then when the mentally broken creature wakes I will trap it on a small metal cage so it can barely turn around and then. since monkeys instinctually fear snakes I'll show them some and see if the creatures urinate in terror or freezes in a little ball or shake uncontrollably. Then I can say I am studying fear responses in primates! I'm going to order some monkeys and have them delivered to my lab!"

And that's exactly what Dr. Elisabeth Murray did. Now I ask you this. If she wasn't a doctor and didn't have a lab and was just a person on the street who tortured animals would they not be considered a serial killer or certainly on their way to becoming one? 

 I believe that this is a type of serial killer because to be a serial killer there had to be a three-person baseline limit but I believe there is another type of serial killer a more intellectual self-disciplined type who has made a decision never to move on to commit such atrocities on their fellow humans. And if you were that type of killer where is the best place to hide?

 How about behind a Ph'd in a lab that experiments with animals which will supply you with endless victims on which you can torture as much as you want and get paid. And that's exactly where this type of serial killer lives. And the closest they get to man are primates. 

I would also suggest that people who experiment on primates or any other animals are serial killers whose primary motive is to seek the adrenalin rush derived by hunting and killing their victims.


Criminologist Jose Sanchez has observed that what sets this type of personality apart from the rest of us is the lack of empathy for their victims. 

To experiment on animals and be able to look into their eyes at the terror your presence bring to their soul takes a lack of empathy that is antithetical to being human. The primary motive of a thrill killer is to induce pain or terror in their victims, which provides stimulation and excitement for the killer. They seek the adrenaline rush provided by hunting and killing victims.

So while using the term Serial Killer cannot apply to those who experiment on animals I believe there is a subset called Zoosadist Serial Killers and they must be contained and given treatment for the psychopathic behavious that they exhibit. It's a good thing Dr. Murray works in Mental Health. Let us pray that her loved ones convince her to get the help she so desperately needs and her assistants as well. She could not do this alone. 

Here she is proud, smiling and getting ready to study;

Decision making in the Primate Prefrontal Cortex. 

And what does that mean? Elisabeth will be cutting out a piece of the brain of a terrorized beautiful creature that soils itself in horror as she enters the room. Clearly, she gets immense pleasure from her work in her house of horrors. So it is a Zoosadist that looks at us happily and then turns around to drill into a screaming monkey's brain, cut out a piece, sew it back wait till the creature wakes in shock and pain it's world irreparably fractured and then tries to elicit terror in the poor creature. Yep. There she is smiling at us. 

Feel free to email her the prayer below or ask her politely to reconsider the goals of her professional life.
murraye@mail.nih.gov

Dear God,

Help Dr. Elisabeth Murray and her colleagues to get the help that they need and cease their animals' experiments immediately. Give them the ability to feel great empathy and respect and love for all your creatures which will block their ability to perform the tasks of torture and pain for which they are paid and for which some if not all derive an abnormal thrill. Make them look into the watery eyes of the speechless ones they set upon to torture and make them understand that their presence makes a creature soil itself in terror because they exist.  Let them feel shame and pain and sicken their souls so they cannot do their evil work. And let them feel your light when they stop look away and can do no more. 

And when they get well let them take pictures and videotape and release all proof of their sins to animal rights groups.  Let them atone by finding other ways in which to understand the world around them and make a living for themselves and their families by protecting and preserving and helping the creatures that they once terrorized. 

And please God encourage them to write and speak and tell what the rest of us can never know. What is it in them that allows them to absorb the terror and pain of another over and over again? What parts of being human must they cut out of themselves?  And God if they get pleasure from their acts may the medical community of mental health descend upon them, strap them down, institutionalize them, and keep them from passing their infection to others. May they be contained and healed. 

May their genetic seed never pass that ability to another.

And that includes you Dr. Elisabeth Murray.

AMEN