Which would you like first, the praise or the critique? Since day one, I've had plenty opportunities to hone my critiques. Let's start by comparing you to Obama.
Swaying public opinion on controversial issues often calls for reverse psychology. In the past you've been pro-vaccination. I was mostly in disagreement, but neither was I keeping up with your gamesmanship. The classic Obama move is to change positions once the opposition is reassured. During his first term he upheld marriage is a sacred union between a man and woman. As soon as he was re-elected, he did a spectacular about face and bolted so fast the other way it would make sense that he is at least gay, if not also leader of the alien shadow government.
Is 'reverse psychology' your strategy in the vaccination debate? Perhaps even more so than Muslim bad ideas, vaccine poisoning is a tough sell. At first you defended vaccines and the public felt reassured you still have confidence in the medical system... but now you're interviewing Robert Kennedy Jr. who is hitting hard against vaccines. The pharmaceuticals' vehement media accusations of him using the H word (holocaust) shows how scared they are that he'll expose their tyranny. This has become a war of opinions, and we got 'em cornered.
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Holla back! Did you get any sex tapes out of that? I'm still trying to get it together to make a dance tape. In the meantime I came up with this: I Wish My Teacher Knew - Conspiracy Theory Edition.
Wow, I never seen a guest so conveniently chucked as when you cut to New Rules to avoid facing a discussion about climate geo-engineering, one of the factual subjects you discredit as a hoax. The timing was so opportune... here again, you look like a covert mystic. And how you're addressing 911 and that macabre Middle East mess - your nuanced way of no longer outright denying the airtight evidence for an inside job. Good thing you don't use the 'But I'm Not Wrong' mugs on set.
The internet is making the world aware of banksters and those in particular who are most responsible for misery and wars. What the US government spends on the military every 8 days, about $30 billion, could end work hunger for a year. Pussy say, "send the Rothschild Khazarian Mafia's asses back into the food chain."
Here is another issue you're so entwined in, changing course would be a re-branding debacle. Two days after I sent the last post called "What's Tight Like Crazy Glue and Binds Religion & Science?" you burst out in utter exasperation:
The author of the quote, Scott Walker, was using 'faith' in the context of Christianity, an outdated control mechanism - but religion offers something vital - call it faith, trust, confidence, a positive outlook. Faith is an outlet for awakening instinct. You don't enjoy a passionate black choir? Still I fantasize you'll U turn triumphantly one day; that'll be a cause for celebration! I'll be seeing...
In the news, seeing a word all over the media is often indication an esoteric message is trying to peek out. Baltimore riots blanketed the airwaves for weeks. When I saw the video of Freddie Gray screaming in pain from being dragged, then get killed by the gross misconduct of ambulance techs, I heard it loud and clear: 'ball a little more' - Bal ti more. There's a sadistic streak running rampant through society and the signs are narrating the storyline.
Now here's Tony Robinson, another unarmed youth shot dead by police, this time in Madison Wisconsin - mad is on.
That's it for the news. If we're going to cry, might as well shed tears for each other. Tears of joy, that is, since you came back! A couple days after I stopped tweeting in February, Lesly Gore died - less lit ( lit with a silent 't' is read in french ) less read.. gore. I felt I needed to hear back from you, in the way I am now accustomed.
I acquiesce you did throw a bone or two after my entry of Feb 12. You acknowledged one of my stories about Wolfie the starving dog by relating barking to your loyal audience. The audience... your true love, la collectivité, mes amours, woooof!
So we took time off while I waited. Two months later on April 18th, the usual delay between blogs, you re-awakened with a play on words about a news story eerily tailored for your return. Any New Rule with my name in it, either Cat or Brown, is automatically considered for cryptogram potential. 'Cat Got Your Young' is about the Mom from hell who dropped her kid in the cheetah pit. It's a pretty twist on the expression, 'cat got your tongue?' I'm never at a loss for words with you, only waiting for you to chime in with a quiz. Thanfully the cheetah did not eat the kid for lunch. The child was saved, that's good karma - even with a husband and two angels in tow, there's no cheata here!
I was in Dominica during the 'cat got your young' kerchief toss. By the way, could they have picked an uglier girl? So I didn't get to see you that week. The next week you came back again... with an urgent Jesus anal-ogy! I have to set this one up... here's a collage of your Religulous movie promo pictures. Like I said in '08, you've been toast since we met.
This one is fraught with symbolism. Just know that I love you.
I re-read all my Bill Maher blog entries from 2008 thanks to this New Rule. It seems like I'm finding new ways to say the same things over and over...
On the same show as Cat Got Your Young:
This cat is going up and down!
Back to the literature. You'll recall I brought up the name Bobbi Cristina Brown in the last blog - bob he Christ in A, with the gif of you bobbing your head 'yes' to the Christ quip.
I made another one. This time it's 'no'.
The same day I posted the last blog, on Feb12, I read Bob Simon died. Okay, I made you bob... it's a 'Simon says' kind of thing.
When Sam Simon died on March 10th, it was like me countering, "yeah, but who makes me masturbate?"
So as you can see, nothing's changed. It's still me all excited about going dancing, getting off on Jamaican dancehall music. And yes, still following around our prodigy progeny, Jermaine Silva Hype James. In March he was playing at a party in Casa Blanca, the brothel next to my place, so I was going there. Around that time I would also stop by to plaster some bills around the girls' cleavage and crotches, and dance with them. I should have been a Madam. They love me! Then I would go to the Carwash filled with apparently non-whoring, regular girls just standing around and fluff them with the lascivious Casa Blanca freshness I just picked up. Always good for a laugh when we loosen up the ladies! The amazing thing is that I'm having the best time with all these gorgeous black girls. We dance together and have so much fun; it's a racial fairy tale and I love them.
Anyhow, as an aside, working girls here are treated so bad, high ranking politicians-cum-whorehouse owners are finally going to jail, one by one... but it takes forever to accomplish little. All this to tell you it was right around the time of the march on Selma. Lol!! Sell Ma. I'm not a whore, I have not had to be, but I would make a good Madam. I'd treat those girls with love and dignity, what they deserve. (and fluff them up!)
Then there was the mysterious 'Germanwings' plane crash on March 24th. I seriously doubt it was the co-pilot's fault. Entirely more likely it was a malfunction at CERN. The plane had just crossed a ley line that connected it with the malevolent super collider. Anyway, Jermaine wings? I told you I showed Jermaine Silva Hype James the blog. Christ almighty! Let me invoke Christ here again... Afterwards, he wasn't as carelessly flirty as he used to be. I guess he saw things are a little more complicated from a woman's point of view. When I congratulated him on the shamanic poetry of 'Jermainewings' he directed me to the police guy standing behind us.
Yes, it's an irie life in semi-retirement for me. Between clubs, working out, food shopping to find anything organic or BIO and sleeping like a cat, my time is dun. Juny and I round out the budget from the real estate we built. When the house is leased we go on vacation. We went to Dominica again... I'm going to make a video about it.
Here's a tribute to the lovely ladies at the gate, our airport immigration girls!
He won't even play my song. On at least two occasions I gave him USB sticks with music. Once he said he would play it so I sauntered over to the speaker in anticipation, only to see the lights go up and the cops closing in on us. He probably does that on purpose or simply lives for the moment and forgets each time I email him a request. I'm not entirely sure which. That's ok... whatever... I love dancing to Jamaican music - and his sets are bangin the ductwork. Then I go home and fuck to Trap Rap.
Is Silva a player or a good husband? You can't be both. But you can be a player and a good angel - that works. It helps that I don't know a thing.
Playing hard to get is a wise and safe choice. According to the UK telegraph, it works every time.
I'm nice, I try to be feminine - more tanty than ho. My fashion sense is getting more concise as well. Red bikini, blue bikini. Now him on the other hand... He's so into gravity-defying droop jeans, when I sneaked a bill in his pocket, a dancehall tradition, I only felt air. I complained about it under Gage's picture and since then Silva's wearing spandex.
This is Gage, he was supposed to come play here but something happened about a missing govt permit...
My edit of his banner:
Him do mi song, Miss Kitty Kat.
Up above I dunno either of you. The way the experiment works is that I don't pay much attention to the angels when they insist they're you guys. Having Silva in front of me has helped me realize that's an illusion. Of course, cats are curious, and there's more to find out.
Down below you're both exemplary angels. Ironically, here in the hangout of my mind, both you and Silva are best yaadies. Although the voices in my mind sound somewhat the same, I can guess which one is whispering loving things at any given time. Silva wakes me up faithfully to go dancing. Last week he woke me up in the morning, at 7:47, the name of our club, with a cute and triumphant 'look what time it is!"
I know my angels' personalities, this pleases me tremendously. That's what this thing is all about... pleasing me. Newcomer Silva says I'd drive him crazy if it wasn't for Bill. Your angel and I go way back, he knows me too well! He helps Silva deal with my princess personality. They whine to each other about me when I'm not listening.
Your angel and I are still madly in love! How about that?
Then I see stuff like this in May, around the same time BB King died.
Bébé is king. There you go.
Ben E. King also died this month. 'Been' he king as well.
Another double death name association. Our baby angel is a show stopper.
I noted Pam destroyed Vanuatu - vas nu as tu? same pronuciation as the storm - meaning: go naked did you? in French. PAM is also pas aime - no like - same pronunciation again. Well yeah.. didn't I always pose as I pleased? There's a whole volume of evidence!
On April 1st we had typhoon Maysak. After feeling snubbed by your silence and nawh-thaw Silva, the April Fools joke came at me: I 'may sack' you both. By the looks of this monster, there is still alot of insecurity in the world, and within me as well. Here it's hauling ass for Yaap and Chuuk, ex-rinky-dinky islands in the Federated States of Micronesia.
Maysak had two names. Maysak's 'local' name was Shedeng - dingue is crazy in French - she crazy. Isn't it becoming crazy to doubt our eccentric means of communcation?
This picture of Maysak was taken by Sam Cristoforetti of the International Space Station... @AstroSamantha. She goes around the planet every day and posts breathtaking pics on Twitter and Flickr.
On the same day, April 1st, the Colima volcano erupted with incredible imagery. Call he Ma... yes, I'm convinced you ended up calling me, and Cat loves to talk about her young.
I hit back with this one:
Of course I couldn't resist posting these on Facebook too, also on May 2nd. Consequently I've been getting comments and invitations to chat. I'm not deliberately trying to make this assbanter about jealousy, but here again, we have a reoccurring theme. The same day, May 2nd, super severe Typhoon Noul - no you elle - formed.
Noul made landfall in Santa Ana. Ana is an A - an A hole - we've covered that passage numerous times in this blog. If you do a blog search on 'an ahole', the box lights up with 2 pages of results! I'm not in the least into prophecy, but it seems obvious that someone with a name like, say, Julian Assange would be on our short list. I hope mentioning this now makes it implausible!
As Discover Magazine points out, Noul hit land a couple hours before our first Atlantic storm, also called Ana, swept ashore.
The name 'Ana' came up that day in no less than two buttapalooza hot spots on mother earth. It also makes sense why tropical storm Bill didn't accompany Ana this time, as it did in 2009. Because this time, I'm the A! I get it, OK.
Here's the classic configuration as it was in 2009.
Here's how I see An A holes today:
We also got positive feedback, like typhoon Joalane on April 7th. Jewel Ane - âne is also donkey in French. Which is ass too. I had just finished re-reading the old post about Haiyan on this blog.
On April 5th, I interpreted this cordial chide in typhoon Haishen - High shenanigan or High shine - a day after I shared this picture on Facebook.
There's lots of other name associations, and I'll try to tweet more about them as they happen so half don't get left behind, but right now I gotta jump to the whoppers.
One of my favorite rappers is Future; his music has a hypnotic quality and yummy rhythms. I isolated these stills from his videos.
Right before his show in St. Maarten, I tweeted to say hello.
I sent him the FB page...
...and the blog to him and his friend
His friend Spinz had just tweeted about a volcanic eruption in Calbuco, and I picked up on it.
More 'call bucko'....WOW!
Then this happened... Of course I had blogged about your intriguing New Rule entitled Kathmandont in the last entry. Well it looks like somebody did something. Kathmandidnt! I guess Cat man does after all.
Here is the accompanying video I sent him:
Kathmandu was dealt a massive earthquake that killed up to ten thousand people. A couple weeks later, another deadly earthquake struck the other side of the city.
It's interesting to note Future is of Haitian descent. Of course Haitians are into voodoo, animism and have a deep spiritual streak. To elicit a name association of this magnitude hints at something mythologically meaningful about this man. Who is he really? Who are his angels?
From the first time in 1993 when I felt the spiritual presence inside me after going dancing one night, I have known how possessive is the spirit. My Buddhist philosophy helped to clear my own feelings about duality, separation of ego, jealousy and possessiveness. I get competitive with other women sometimes, and most of your girlfriends annoy me - I can't help it - even the brown new bitch. Guyanese women are beautiful, yes, let's leave it at that.
But I still feel we are all one.
I would certainly hope all the jealousy and possessiveness illustrated time and again in this blog doesn't originally spring from my psyche! If so, then I learned nothing. My true feeling is that I just want you to be happy, and I think you'd wish the same for me. Anyhow, where do these poems come from? I believe they evoke deep feelings from someone... or something. That's what we're here to figure out.
Back in 1993, at the beginning of this adventure, I was separated from Don Alias, my late percussionist husband. My angel who was then identifying with a local DJ named Kiss, was so jealous I couldn't even have a cat around! Over time the angel and I got to know and appreciate each other... In 1995 hurricane Luis blew my house away and I took refuge with my neighbor, who also became my new human companion for a few months, until I met Juny. It was the name Luis that prompted me to start deciphering storm name codes - I chillingly observed that 'lui' - meaning him in french - with an "s"... Luis... signified 'more than one male'. This was the turning point when the angel accepted to share me, revealing an act of deep love and sacrifice. He agreed I needed human companionship, and took this first step away from pathological possessiveness. I hope it's all been worth it for him, although we understand he still thinks it makes some sense, deep down, to harbor those basic instincts. Jealousy isn't love. Getting over it is. Try explaining that to a man, much less an angel.
Since then we married Juny, and got lots of cats, and now even a second angel! We've come a long way... except for these occasional blips.
I haven't brought up this next one yet, because I've had to think about it for a long time. Now is the time to release it by writing about it. Fukushima - fuck you she Ma - this name has been swirling in my mind. The tsunami happened while I was writing lovetoamuse.blogspot.com, during one of those silent phases when I stopped communicating directly with you for some months. Here is what I posted just before the disaster. They're graphics dedicated to Lex, the guy who made my business website.
The point it, after a long absence, I resumed with a message directed at someone else.
Right after Fukushima, we resumed what I am now certain we enjoy doing; we started communicating again. This is how I came back, in post-snippets.blogspot.com
There you have it, I now lay this one to rest on the page. I wouldn't think nothing of it except the name has been bugging me... Fuck you, she Ma!
I bet this blog qualifies for your ninth ring of hell.
From your April 14 Playboy interview:
Lately something else worth mentioning happened. I ran across this video of Neil deGrasse Tyson, who calls out my maiden name, Bismuth, which is also the name for number 83 on the table of natural elements. He describes Bismuth as a special material, in comparison to carbon which is the stuff life on earth and most of the universe is made of. That made me feel special, so I told you about it.
Did I say name game? Well! The very same day, Toya, the dancehall singer, dies. Toy - Ah! Of course it's not a game and I am not toying with you.
And, lol, the day after Corey died, Errol Brown died of natural causes. Her all - Brown.
Well I agree with all that - love is not a name game. I take that back.
Now that my newsfeed hails from Jamaica, it's only natural I would notice synchronicities featuring their news personalities. Or are they here because my newsfeed spotlights Jamaica? I don't know...
The funny part is that since it's from Jamaica, there has to be even deeper drama beneath the story line. The media rumour is that Latoya's rival in business and love, Ishwana, killed Toya with Obeah.
Here's a still from Ishwana's video.
Wow... and here she is even before Toya is completely rigor mortis, with their mutual lover, dancehall promoter Joe Bogdanovich.
We're all relieved Toya was baptized right before she died. This photo was taken before the baptism. She already looked like revenge was on her mind.
All the while, I'm still up to my old tricks. I sent a picture of myself to dancehall star Tommy Lee Sparta when I saw this one of him.
Those are my Luciferian eyes. One is very dark and foreboding, and the other is bright, full of light. I also posted the picture on my Facebook timeline, where it was promptly reported and removed.
The very same day...
...Ann Meara died. Remember, Âne is donkey in french, or simply 'an me are A'.
A you-know-what.
And May 28th here comes tropical storm Andres. Âne dress.
What did I do? I didn't do anything... besides putting stupid pictures on the internet. Last time I checked, that's not fucking around.
Besides the occasional estrogen dip, here in my mind, we're always having fun. I may be an A, but I feel deeply loved, and Juny and I are still very much in love. Of course my version of having fun is tweeting and FBing rappers and dancehall artistes. Sometimes the incidental synchronicities are beyond the scope of imagination. Whatever epic feelings may inspire the muse of 'Mega-Disaster She Wrote'... I'm just the observer, writing a dissertation towards a degree in spiritual gangsterism.
"...Pussy? The blog is done?" "Yep, it's finished." "My Pussy loves me?" "Of course I love you, I work for you."
__________________________________________________________________
June 14, about a week later...
I work for you, and it's paying in my preferred currency. My defragged version of reality, the ‘Belief System' is taking a stand against banal reality. Yes, reality does meet my expectations. Aww Gawwd... and it’s getting funnier by the minute.
What happened since I posted above has to get unzipped. You got a spot for me in every show now!
June 5th New Rules:
Then on June 8th the internet erupted about Kinabalu volcano because the Malaysia government said tourists getting naked caused the eruption. Why am I not surprised?
I work out in the morning, and today specially I lit some healthy Caribbean sensi out of a potato. It worked! All this to tell you that Kinabalu volcano blew its top for you and me. Does that entertain you? Are you impressed? In love??
Kin a ball you. Is this a reference to our ‘son’ Silva? Lol! You fuckin slay me with those jokes! And there's another one forming on the horizon!
Kin a ball you in the mythical realm… as well as Arkansas, West Virginia and the backwoods of Simpson Bay, St. Maarten.
Actually, I drew experience from my cats who don't get along so easily. I'm just suggesting some kind of family bond, trying to bring natural foes closer.... not incest!
On June 12th you hit back with abortion and gay marriage!
Think about it... if the most populated regions on earth believe there is a spiritual connection between man and nature, and so do the Republicans, where does that leave you guys? In the minority.
Looks like the whole thing started when Silva nailed a supernatural free throw with his Lyin King t-shirt. He had it on the same day as the volcano tweet. He wore it cause of a bet about Lebron James, The Lyin King, and he won.
Is The Lyin King also trying to express he's got feelings for me after all? I guess women will never know what guys are really thinking, but this co-incidence messaging is even more fun! The boy can put on a show, I told you…
And this week's shout out? A cat taped to your nuts. Really! You can't tape a cat... unless she wants to be here. Right where I belong.
And if you're wondering why I was fully clothed this week...
