Thursday, February 12, 2015

What's tight like crazy glue and binds religion & science?


Let's see, what's new? The US military is so desperate to put boots on the ground they're dressing Isis in ACME military outfits.

Old look: insurgents only look mean enough to fight locals.




Crossover look



Today: combat ready! The guy who's about to get burned alive poses better than me.



What else? Asians still can't drive.







Air Asia, Trans Asia... I'm trying not to see 'age, ah!' But why come out of the trance? Let's get deeper into it.

We're happy to announce the Washington Post is doing successive articles featuring chemtrails. A yucky topic that may just poop up on your prime time radar, so let me indulge in even more conspiratorial cocktail talk. Here's a nice Pouilly-sur-Merde.

Je suis Charlie. The terror attacks on Parisian cartoonists. Once again, the media's presentation is suspiciously flawed; a weak, amateurish recreation of something that must have happened... who knows? You really can't tell by looking at the news.

I made a collage from various videos to illustrate some salient points. You can say 'Fuck' on HBO, I have total copyright infringement freedom on my bootleg blog.





Besides the well-known cover predicting a terrorist attack before the end of January, I just discovered another prophetic cover on Charlie Hebdo's Facebook. They posted this the day before the shootings on Jan 7th. It comes complete with Lucky Charms divination headdress.




That's not even the funny part yet!

I looked it up, the name Charlie of  Hebdo fame does in fact stand for Charlie Brown... but the Brown is silent, censored if you will. That's what I thought happened to us when I heard nothing back since the last blog. I figured I sent the blog to one too many heretics and your handlers excommunicated me, censoring you from communicating in any way, shape or form with that decorator/witch, Catherine Brown. Of course I was upset. I sent you this.



An A hole. One of our favorite codes. The joke that endures. It splashed down back in 09 with this sweet, wet, breathless in-between space.







And after so many variations on a theme, like Asiana airlines, it happened again, right after Oct 13th's Gonzalo.




Just the other day you posted this picture ...






which led me straight to this:





Anna and Kristiff... excuse me, Kristoff in Frozen. Ana and Christian in Fifty Shades of Grey.

Bobbi Kristina Brown. She wanted to change her name to Houston, but never got around to it. 

Here's something we both agree, the Christ analogy thing is too somber, ain't sexy, crucifixion is gory actually... bob to it.





And why would people crucify someone who can raise the dead? Seems like a futile effort and that proved to be right.

No that's not all...

After the Ana revival you took pity on me and threw this bone. It's in the second joke; I left the first one to place you in purgatory.






Kathmandon't? That's a one word synopsis if I ever heard one. You'll always be part of the problem as you keep me guessing. Tossing furniture was the added decorator touch to wit, and the Fifty Shades of Grey jab at John Boehner at the end, well, it fit like my red carpet attire, which I promptly sent you to kiss and make up.





I gotta segway back to Je Suis Charlie. You remember murdered editor 'Charb' Stephane Charbonnier? His wife Jeanette Bougrad is a card holding member of the zionist illuminati. No shit.




I wasn't aware the arch global domineering cabal is called Mayer Brown. Another cute verse in the poem. 

Could Jeanette be in on a Satanist plot to get US boots on the ground? And what happened to Police Commissioner Fredou only hours after the Charlie murders?




 One thing is clear, we're getting plowed. As last week's snow storm Linus points out, they be lyin us.





~


And then there was Wolfie. What a story! Sweet Wolfie, the dying stray dog with nothing left to lose, staggering on the road looking for help. I drove by him not far from my house, I had to rush home to get some cat food and bring it him. He was there, still limping when I came back. I was able to lift the Belgian Shepherd up into the car and take him to the spot where I usually leave some food for the strays. The next morning I emailed the dog shelters. When I sent his picture, our queen of animal love, Ursula Oppikofer, offered to take him into her home filled with dogs. I went back to the spot... he looked dead! I was crestfallen. When I thought of opening the can, he started to stir. Such a relief! The spot is on a slight incline, so I couldn't keep the door open to carry him in the car. After multiple attempts, I was finally able to get poor Wolfie into the back of the Jeep. When we got to Ursula, he was greeted by all her doggies, and the beautiful rapport with her animals comforted me this was the best thing that could happen to him. I had named him Diablo at first, but Ursula chose Wolfie. She said he may well have been a K9 tossed away after years of service. He certainly had that protective, mindful attitude. Over the next week she put up numerous Facebook posts about him, and her 2000 members of the 'I love My Island Dog Association' responded with such an outpouring of love, when he did pass away it felt like Lady Di's big goodbye! 900 comments and likes, and we're still commiserating.  








Wolfie crossing the rainbow bridge. In this age of cynicism, it feels good to openly release kindness, the big gush of emotion is nourishing. You had to be there!


You also had to hear Juny's take on this, summed up with "why did you put a smelly dog in the Jeep?"


The day I brought Wolfie to Ursula, on January 28th, two storms developed: Eunice - you nice - and Diamondra. I like both. I read diamond rah! but turns out it was diamond are a... also a very pretty play on words. Add to this snow storm Kari on January 29th - and well, I could never forget Diablo Wolfie.







There's more to this... Here's Ursula's first Facebook post.




The medical dilemma reappears. I wrote Ursula about not giving him cortisone as 
it would be hard on his weakened digestive system. I tried to get across that conventional medicine is for curing ailments, but counterproductive if used only to alleviate symptoms. She has complete trust in the medical system so she followed the vet's advice, bless her heart. Since my hypersensitivity set in, I've seen - and felt it all. Who knows if avoiding cortisone would have made it easier for Wolfie to heal? It made it possible for me to heal when I removed that - and other pharmaceuticals.

Every day parents and children are terrified of getting vaccines. I don't blame them. Another reason I don't need to have kids. The pressure is so intense on this sad trending topic, vaxxers want to jail those who refuse shots containing God knows what... mercury, nanobots, microchips... This is the tip of the distrust-in-society iceberg. As an empath, the only way for me to cope is to luxuriate in happiness with my angels, hubby and cats... and refuse all shots.


~


Ok, enough about Wolfie, you're here to read about Pussy. You know me, I can't help it... I've been acting up! Great shows are coming for Carnaval like Migos, Alsina and Future, but first we have some catching up to do. I went to see Red Rat at Tantra.




He's the original tight-up skirt dancehall riddim guy, who had me chasing his pure, give-me-red-meat beats around the room. We had fun in the club! Silva was there. I had on these shorts.




When I left right after the show even the bouncer complimented me on going straight home to my man. Which is all I ever do. Nice drive home, no one else on the road, hit the shower, take a hit... time to floor it with some rap ethics, like Young Thug, Shy Glizzy and Mike Will Made It. I get all wokked up and I'm ready to take care of Juny. He's got lots of reasons to love me going out! After unrelenting magical feelings, and I haven't been to sleep yet, my imagination doesn't do anything... It just starts. This time though, I somehow channeled Red Rat! I swear it was different... pum ina agonee straight through the next day, I still can't believe it! Our angels sent Red Rat's psychic front back to Jamaica and we reaffirmed angel family planning is strictly limited to two, but not before I posted this.




Joe Cocker died the next day! Joe cock her... somebody felt compelled to snitch? You know I can't resist telling the whole story when I hear the 'dead celebrity name' challenge.



Joe cock her, give me a break! 


What else happened? Umm, yeah, there's a local guy, his name is Djstickit daAssassin. He's a good DJ, fun to dance to. He put up una picture.





I had a such a great time dancing to his music on Dec 12th. There's wall to wall mirrors, plus St. Maarten's specialty, beautiful backazz girls!




The next day, who chimes in...




Back hung... black hung... I guess the x-ray is real hood nigga.



~


Now you must be eager to hear about our baby boy!

But first... Juny and I went to Boston for Christmas to hang out with his daughter and granddaughter, and give Franki's hand away in marriage to Matt, a very nice guy - that's good news!

Here's Sahara happy to get fluorescent flashing socks.




The first three days weather was perfect; we went to Salem, my kind of place, and Newbury street in Boston - same lackluster junk as in all the malls up there - but we had a great time at the Boston Aquarium.

And I was so lucky! Are we still qualifying this as luck? My art inspiration (next to Caribbean painter Roland Richardson) is sculptor Alexander Calder. He had an exhibition at the Peabody Essex Museum of Salem. In the early 20th century, Calder sublimated the abstract floating mobile. So beautiful to see them dancing with shadows!









Here's my do-it-yourself versions.








When I found out about these mobiles around the year 2000, I made them day and night until I became allergic to beads, then switched to seashells.

While we were in the States in December, I caught this year's flu strain, which by my hypersensitive antenna had to be engineered in vitro to accommodate the flu industry. Don't you think we would have immunized ourselves to the flu by now just like we got over polio, chicken pox and supposedly measles? I think measles were re-introduced as well to scare people into defending vaccines. And they are scared! Biotech is the weapon of choice.

When I got back to St Maarten I had this cold for a good while, so I couldn't go anywhere. I hadn't danced for Silva at HighUp since before Christmas, and my birthday was coming up.

The snow storms that pummeled the States sang sadly of my absence. We had Frona - frown ah - Gorgon - gore gone - and cyclone Bansi - ban see - in the Southern Indian Ocean. Am I imagining this? Denial aside for a minute, let's say I'm not.











Then there was this straightforward enough declaration, addressed to me personally. Jangmi Kate.




JANG, commonly stands for 'just a nice guy'... me... Kate. Oh yeah this too...




It got bad when I was still resting after my cold and couldn't go dancing by Saturday January 10th. I didn't know whether I should go or not; making a wise decision is sometimes not my first choice. I woke up around midnight with flashing lights on my ceiling, only to find the road to the club was blocked by police. I ran back to bed.



Within hours, at 1:00 am your time, five people were shot at a Chris Brown concert. Taking after his Daddy already!



I finally made it back to the club for my birthday January 15th.




That's my birthday badge. I'm with dancehall artiste Baby Cham and hubby Juny.

Before I go any further, I want to give a big shout out to Snow Storm Juno. You'll recall we had Cato? January's Juno broke records and barriers! It was the first storm the media widely recognized by name, obliterating the snow naming taboo the Weather Channel has bravely battled.





Here's Jon Stewart's video; it's time for some lighthearted banter to make amends for the flurry of magic.







And we're back... the biggest news this month has to be that I sent Silva the blog. On Jan 23rd, after I got home, I smoked some powerful patio kush and it made me so high I started sending pictures to you and Silva. When he messaged me to know if I send these to everyone, I told him no, just one other person, you, and I sent him the blog. I introduced it by saying it's much worse than 'just giving it up'. Giving what up? I'm giving up nothing!






I was worried he'd see the blog and terminate our friendship to preserve his sanity, or maybe for religious reasons, who knows, but things turned out for the best. Next time I showed up in the club, I got a clear message that he liked it, especially when I brought $10 bills between my teeth, or threw him one in a paper plane and then did a 6:30 right der to pick it up. That went over well. It might be going to his head too, a couple days later I see 'every gal want a wok off a him'. 








I get the feeling what he really likes is that I'm Representing HighUp Family, with a big R. Besides being devastatingly cute, he's really smart! He knows I hate it when he diss gays and plays 'boom bye bye in a batty boy head'. I walk out. One time I was lounging after prancing, just leaning on a pole. To see if a HighUp girl would perform, he figured playing the offensive song would make me disappear and she appear, and he was right! I just walked off.  I had to laugh when he called for her. They're softening their stance against gays though, even joking about it.







Last Saturday I brought an ipod to see if I could record him when he hollers how I 'Represent!' At one point it was sliding down under my dress, so I just put it back in the car. Of course, when I was freed of the gizmo is when the fun started! I heard something I swear sounded like "I'll take you with twenty guys". Next time I'll put the gizmo on the DJ table next to him.




I was ROFLMFAO at that exclamation for quite a while afterwards. He's got a dirty mind just like his Mama!

But in practice that's not going to happen. Besides the fact I only fuck a forever love, I put so much time, effort and attention into satisfying a man, that's not something you can do by volume.



You could say it’s become my religion, turning guys on in a club; I fucking love our new speakers! This creates stonewalled sexual energy and it turns into science. It wouldn’t make sense to me either if there wasn’t so much supporting documentation. 

Since I’m back on the scene, we’ve had HighUp storm names like Iola – high oh la!... Ola - haut la (haut is high in French), and this week's Higos - High goes - a storm which beat intensity records this early in the year. Nevertheless I stayed home Tuesday so I could be fresh to finish this post... but High I going tonight!




So, I keep confiding in you because your angel is the very fabric of my reality, and you’re a genius… you manage to juggle the illuminati and keep Real Time the realest show on TV. I love Marianne Williamson!

Check out more stills with other Hollywood immortals Jay Leno and Mel Brooks.