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I do mean to sound flippant, what’s more important, Isis or the economy? Last week you devoted one skinny sentence to the amazing job recovery and went on and on about Isis, Ebola and Muslims.

Here’s my prediction from 2008.

Looks like Obama made a deal with the guys who own it all to realize the rights of gays worldwide, in exchange for going along with corporate asininity, which presidents do anyway. Just in itself, this is quite an accomplishment... and he's getting good press! What is going on?

LGBTs know the rest of the world has alot of catching up to do. As in... lovin the back shot! Bap bap! I'm a lesbian in training...

Yesterday night a big bolt of lightning took out my internet. Everything is on tilt, having to rely on a smartphone which took all day to activate on an island. I usually use a blue, mini antique which I love, and save myself for a 22 inch screen at home. That's what Nanas do.

I’ve even been quarantined from posting on Facebook! So I'm writing this in Notepad hoping the phone man will fix the line this week. It's not an easy thing here; I was helplessly praying and crying...until I figured out to use the smartphone as a hotspot.

Then I found out Juny may have a mistress! I can't believe it but I borrowed his phone and a lady in his contacts just hung up when I answered. I was about to write "I'm a lesbian in training since a year at Club Highup", but that cut me short and kind of blew my mind... I would find it hard to believe... if it wasn’t a great lead-in for Isis.

I just have one brother, Patrick. He's always called me sis, hence I sis. What's in a name? This is a soliloquy about ego -- I don't know what to write about ego, except that by my own reasoning it should slip off easily like my underwear. Which is fine, if that worked, and if I was still wearing underwear.  Honestly, I feel an over-inflated or conversely bruised ego is the real danger that’s not in the news, right up there with the environment.  This isn’t an easy one to face, and if the think-tank scribes could find a new name for the latest terrorist franchise, I would just as easily not think about it. That’s also why fame is totally unappealing. This year's prediction is that you’ll want the blog to remain relatively private, unless Rupert Murdoch buys HBO and you pull me from obscurity out of desperation. Not to worry, though… if all those weather jokes enable me to be a comedian’s comedian, ego it fit tight, like punany.







What about the actual terrorists, now starring American thugs?  Isis is assassin Utopia. Too smug with the media play they're getting, they’re even getting paid to let loose in all too perverse cinematography. And their leader is a certain al-Baghdadi? If that was his real name, such a media savvy terrorist would have called himself something else to avoid global smh. It’s all rife with word games, can all these be co-incidences? Colbert noticed it too.




Another frightful welfare queen is Ebola. The NIH is saying they'll likely have to vaccinate entire countries with experimental vaccines. Now that Glaxosmithkkkline is involved, bet the GOP approve billion dollar Ebola allocations.

The disease is transmitted from African bush meat. Here's one more good reason to get along with animals.

This hauntingly beautiful woman saved her family from Ebola with only garbage bags for protection. Surely people in the West seeing this can feel something for what African women have to go through?

Besides the ‘he beau la’ snag we covered last time, the word Ebola also stems from ‘ebo’ which is the root of ebony and ebonics… as in black, black, black.

On a psychological level I think this disease is a projection of negative racist emotions, not unlike Aids… and must play itself out to help cleanse them. The supposed cure for Ebola is Zmapp. Z is of course the code for zombie; the insinuation is they'd cover the map. It just looks terrible out there.

And no, I don’t want to jump into the Muslim female genital mutilation debate you had with Ben Affleck… although I wrote something about Turkey to defend your argument:

Reza Aslan is Wrong About Islam and This is Why

Cat Brown

 "I was in Turkey, I stayed in a 4 star hotel and the toilet looked more like a urinal, definitely more suited for a man. Some gender equality."


I noticed your influence on the media's stream of concsiousness overrides the war lunatics’ headlines occasionally, like the day CNN criticized legal beheadings in Saudi Arabia. Of course what you say makes sense, I escaped from Algeria... send naysayers like Reza Aslan to North Africa and we’ll see how eloquent they are from there.

So I generally agree, except the rationale for circumcision escapes me and I enjoy equal opportunity religion bashing. It was nice to see some Judeo bashing in Religulous.

What I would like to highlight right now is another point from the same show, brought up by Sam Harris but quickly forgotten in the Muslim brouhaha. That’s the distinction between spirituality and religion. There's a huge difference of course, but there's more to it than that. Black people, women, gays, animals... all are taking their place in society, but spirits have rights too! The way I see it, spirituality is next up for emancipation.

Yes, spirits are people too! Or at least they were, and likely will be again. They deserve some respect and recognition, as do the fundamentals of spirituality. Take Joan Rivers for instance. Surely she’s wondering if she was really done in by government shortly after she told TMZ that Michelle Obama is a tranny. Bet you she’s floating around asking who you can sue from there. And does she ever have book sale timing... Love ya lady!

~

Is it time to get personal? Let me light one up.

You'll recall Silva, the Jamaican MC who somehow got into my head and became our son. He's still here. Both your angel and Silva’s are taking excellent care of me. Joan Rivers, read ‘join rivers’ is sending an encouraging departed celebrity message, leaving us with a nice promise of togetherness. Right around the same time as Joan's passing, tropical storm Norbert signaled ‘nor be hurt’. I’m delighted with the abundance of love I get from both your angels.  That’s the thing about angels, and why spirituality should be up next: Angel Love is strong and pure. I won’t tackle the subject of malicious entities, although I think they’re out there. It all comes down to self and whom we attract. If we are all one like Buddha says, then it really all comes down to self… even ego… yikes! Maybe a bit of equal opportunity Buddha bashing would lighten the mood.

So here at least, we seem to be getting along, and I even found out the lady who called Juny earlier is a no-phone-credit type who needs to be called back. Of course! How could I even think..

Then there were also two very nice storms… well, I don’t know how nice they were per se, but the names cooled me out and showed me peace is possible in my head, so why not everywhere?  First there was tropical storm Edouard  - est doux are – is gentle are – it sounds better bilingual... it’s poetry that way.  The same day spawned a storm called Kalmaegi  - calm a G. Around a week later there was Kammuri – calm, murrit – French for calm and matured.

The hidden storm is Odile. Barely minutes after my Sept 10th tweet about St. Maarten politics, tropical storm Odile formed. Ile is island, and odd describes us well!

Next week I'm going on a cruise with Damian Marley, Sean Paul and other Jamaican musicians. It's time to get away. Last night I smoked Canadian weed which was so embedded with GMOs it literally floored me. There should have been a warning not to operate machinery, the Jeep is still parked in Bay Highness. Today I find out it's also called chemo, supposedly designed by David Suzuki to counter side effects of cancer. That's the last time I touch shit from the mainland.

So what's new with you? In this status update from your Facebook page you look resigned to get beheaded by a Brown.

Here's the whole New Rules... we got readers in Ukraine.



We’re reading each other’s minds these days… your premonition may have been accurate. On a whim, I sent the blog to Ben Affleck and Sam Harris. Both super intelligent people with intriguing names...

I've been seeing a few signals to hurry up and finish this blog, including a storm coming straight at me.

Now that it's done the storm is steering away and has the name Fay - fait (silent t) is French for done!

Wow! Another one popped up. I'm sending this immediately!

It's gonna be called Gonzalo - gonz a l'eau - gone to the water on the Jamrock cruise! I hate waves by the way, hoping for a still and quiet sea from Miami to Jamaica and back. Luv u.


Finally, was that a flaming arrow about sugar tits right after my last blog of nudes?




I hear you… here’s the sugar clitters.

Jellyfish for lunch?

The powers that be, or the powers that were, as aptly named in the recent 'Moment of Truth' conference with Greenwald, Dotcom and Assange... TPTW should just take taxpayers' money and waste it on arms without subjecting the people with endless calls to war. Just do it on the sly, we're going to waste it anyway. Now Ukraine is balling they need more arms to protect their freedom. The US govt just loves a fighter. And Isis, well, more on that in another blog... of course there's a mash up analogy there!

But today, I'd like to interpret the first thing you said after I sent the last blog. On Letterman you brought up our old friend, the jellyfish that eats oil for lunch. 

The first time was in a Feb 2014 New Rules.  You figured a joke about jellyfish exposing their nipples would squeak by comedic logic and send a signal for me to expose my softies. This time around you didn't even have to mix everyone up with jellyfish nipples, I'm already trained to respond to twice removed allusions. 

Here's the last part of Feb's New Rules:

And here's the Letterman show from Sept 8th: (update from Sept 25th... CBS made me remove the video in a scary youtube copyright infringement moment)



I answered the call to nipple last time, and it worked this time too!

And our storm name of the year is...

Ever wonder if a free market economy can sustain the 99% in the real world? Maybe not there, but in St. Maarten we're holding it together better than many other Caribbean islands, courtesy of the jet set. Yes, folks here actually feel it trickling down. We have no property tax or customs duties and have been offering big investors ten year tax holidays, so there are few business restrictions to hinder growth.

This laissez-faire climate is directly attributable to one man, Dr. Claude Wathey, our benign dictator, consecutively re-elected as Prime Minister for 38 years from 1954 to 1992. Claude created an ideal setting for foreign investments while holding Dutch colonial influence in check. He ruled at the same time as apartheid ravaged South Africa, leaving me to wonder if Holland's guilt trip over apartheid made it that much easier for him to charm his way into neutralizing Europe's trademark austerity.

Claude designated his grandson Theo as successor. He named him well, Theo is the Greek word for God - and an old Germanic name meaning 'of the people'. This isn’t North Korea, so Theo had to wait his turn, serving in different cabinet posts while ascending the chain of command. Recently he started his own party, the UP Party, and now, armed with millennial sharpness, he's perfectly poised to get elected Prime Minister on Aug 29^th.







As you can imagine, politics is rough and tumble on a back-a-yard little island. Besides blanketing the roads with signs, politicians exercise creative power grabbing. Check out this Calypso version of events. Here, Theo and adversary Sarah are finishing off Willie. The lady in the picture is Gracita, Theo's second in command.




You’ll recall that for years, vouchers for fridges, stoves and TV’s were handed out in exchange for votes right out in the open on voting day. The direct reward system is still a favorite means of collecting votes, with Theo reputedly handing out up to $100,000 a day in cash on the run up to the election.  Courtesy of politicians, St. Maarteners are flown in to vote from all over the world, bringing families together for the weekend. Say what you will about this, but distance from the mainland allows us to be ourselves! This place is one big excited funland right now. We do politics right.

In the spirit of local governance I visited Theo and asked him for a favor. Since I can remember, St. Maarten has burned raw garbage in the middle of town. In our rapid economic development this barbaric disposal method has taken on monstrous proportions, as toxic smoke spreads over a large swath of the island. When Dutch Queen Beatrix last visited, HRH decreed the noxious burning has to stop. So I caught up with Theo and added the dancehall queen would also like to see this fixed, especially since I can’t dance in clubs in the path of the burn. I confided in him I could still go to Club HighUp, and by the time I arrived home that day there he was on Facebook sporting our Highup hand sign, with Captain Morgan in the background. Was it a simple coincidence that right after I left he was visited by Derron from the club and they posed straight to my Newsfeed? I don't think so. Public relations wizardy, then? Yes, and Theo never ceases to amaze.

Since his grandfather Claude opened up the island to a free-for-all of hotels, casinos, restaurants and brothels, our economy is nicely maintaining its momentum. In the mad rush, we’ve lost our virgin tropical charm, but thanks to the French side of St. Martin which remains quaint and picturesque, the Dutch side is getting away with libertarian expansionism.  That’s the luck of the pirates.

So, as you can see, esotericism is woven through the fabric of society in the islands. Good thing I ended up here! When I was growing up with nothing but the bleak outlook of stale consumerism and numbers to keep track of it, how could I resist loving magic as it tossed sparks at me? In this case, it's not meditation or ayahuasca that brings shamanic visions on tv; it's our feelings, and those that seem intense enough to inspire the poem are also leaving a remarkable trail of death and destruction... on tv. But somehow lately it's getting crazier than ever. Someone else broke through the mind barrier and I find myself possessed by you and this new angel. His name is Silva. Angel #2 identifies with Jermaine Silva Hype James from Jamaica's HighUp family. In our dream, I often remind him the field positions: I'm with Bill and we're both looking at him, bemused.

When I go to the club, this boy hollers along with the music, unintelligible rhythms punctuated with raunchy sextalk.




It's incredible how someone can do that, get in your head... that's the mystery I'm trying to tug out from under the fridge.

When we're someplace 'live' the music is so loud no one can talk to each other, except the one time I stayed till the end of the night. The music stopped while I was having so much fun... I complained to him, "Turn down for what? Is the police here?" He said, "Yes, look behind you..." so I ran out.

Music is the sanity barrier and maad bridge that makes it possible for the angel story to repeat itself. Also dance, Facebook pictures and graphics. I keep writing the words to you.

So here's a rundown of some interesting synchronicities... On July 11th I was encouraged when I saw your New Rule about cats without balls not being cool. I felt relief... you look like you're saying it's ok to be myself! Lawd... how you've worked diligently over the years without ever committing to reality... that's a dream come true for a poet.



This, after June 30th's tropical storm Elida (elle I da) gave me much needed reassurance. I told you about it in the tweet, pour toujours.

Zephyr_Forecasm @Zephyr_Forecasm · Jun 30

@billmaher Pour toujours

Then came the only named storm to hit the US so far, Arthur - art her. It reminded me of Rubin Hurricane Carter's recent passing, summing up this whole blog, poetry in motion through storm names.

Well, Arthur was supposed to take a direct hit on North Carolina...

...instead, he brought down the house with a plot twist:

And nobody got hurt. Is this art? From where I sit, it is.

Soon after, July 4th's Typhoon Neoguri added a sound blip to our public relations campaign: Nie - to deny in french - ogre he. Deny I ogre am. Gods in general have taken a bad rap for all too often being ready for a bit of the old ultraviolence. We're gonna clean this up!

Remember though, in the Western hemisphere, aerosol particulates are hindering cyclonic development as well as drying convection, while in the Far East HAARP is freely deployed to whip up storms, with many of them directed right over Kadena air base.

Back here the alchemy was bubbling over, because from then on the storms seemed to reflect angel Silva's point of view! Suffice to say it again, this has nothing to do with the guy who MC's the parties. Or I don't think so. It's hard to figure out; you can't Google this. In my mind they are separate - therefore Silva Hype is innocent, even with a name like that.  If not, it's too psychedelic for a white girl... Perhaps islanders are used to this psychic sex stuff? Then the laugh is on me. Here I am pawing under the stove to figure out this mystery, intellectualizing and studying... while the locals understand everything by instinct. Down below, he communicated to me soon after we met that he usually uses mind sex only once, and if the girl does not offer herself to him in 3D, he don't stick around. Are we the exception to the rule? My guess is yes! After 20 years experience in angel watching, I certainly won't make a single off-stage advance towards him. Plus, as far as I can see he's already overwhelmed with women.

Anyway, here's Silva's poetry:

Arthur made landfall in Beaufort - beautiful strong - Showing off in maad Jamaican style.

July 7th had tropical storm Fausto - far us too

Tommy Ramone died July 11th - ram one. From July 9 to 20, Typhoon Rammasun - ram a son - cut a swath of destruction across the Philippines, China and Vietnam. The other day came the blowback - an earthquake struck Napa valley CA - nah Pa - Ok, ok forget the mother and son analogy! Another favorite of the gods. The wine industry took a hit, and here's what I'm looking at in anticipation of tonight which is International Tuesday at Silva's club:

Jul 18th, I noticed Taiwan was hit by typhoon Matmo - Ma ti aime oh! - Ma loves me a little oh! Believe it or not, around the same time, angel Bill disappeared for a few hours. I was like, "where's Bill?" The answer came with tropical storm Wali - wall he.

It seems the new one can just take over like that, kind of like your angel took over from DJ Kiss seven years ago during hurricane Omar. This time around I imposed my will over the young buck and brought you back. Did I do the right thing? As far as I'm concerned, down below you and I are inseparable.

The objective is to all get along together, not assimilate each other. I want you both. That's how I nurture a relationship with someone powerful enough to get inside my head and bring us indescribable pleasure, even pain sometimes. Like last night when angel Silva Hype found out I didn't intend to go dancing until this blog is done... only bass fest hip hop and weed could quell that vexation. I had to reconsider this, especially after our angel told me how rude Silva's is getting on.

Anyhow, the Wali incident brought back the malaise ah! On the same July 18th, CNN reports another Malaysia airlines flight got blown out of the sky over Ukraine. Interestingly, it dropped in the town of Grabove - G are above.

Did you also notice something about Malaysia HR17?



Right around this time comes the infamous outbreak of ebola - he beau la!

Now, if all this was happening to you I wouldn't care to see her pictures... or worse. Lucky for me your persona is best served by a perpetual bachelor status to keep hope alive in the hearts of female fans.

It's different on this end, though. What with the intensity of suffering brought on by this virus... Jah! ...and seen from a poetic point of view. It needs to be addressed.


So here's a picture of Silva with DHQ Kibebee Highup girl (dance hall queen).

Trouble, nothing but trouble... 

and fiancée Vingadapaty

In this context, what can I say? All this is beyond me. The pathos is accurately transmitted. For a while there I thought 'he beau la' was the funniest, most pathetic thing I ever heard.

The irony is that ebola is a scourge only in the third world. In the West, relatively proper nutrition provides immunity. I think large doses of vitamin C could even help cure it, if 'doctors' were bold enough to try alternative treatments.

In the news we're hearing about a new treatment, Nano Silver. - Nan oh Silva? Since Juny's daughter brought her beautiful little dream-girl-in-training, Sahara, I went from Ma to Nan. "Oh Nana! Why you gotta act so naughty!" Really! I'm so tired of hearing that in the clubs, like I'm supposed to get up for that one. And these guys are barely tweens most of them...

So, can Nanosilver, colloidal silver particles reduced to nanoscale, cure this hemorrhagic horror? I would make sure to include vitamin C. If either works, it would vindicate us alternative medicine adepts.

July 26th's hurricane Hernan off Mexico chimed in with timing... in that crazy, lovable way you both have to keep the emotional roller coaster on a roll.

On July 25th it looks like you're voicing some concerns:



With all the apps at the disposal of 'a pixel statue', I've been tweeting pictures and love notes, just to let you know this is another chapter in our adventures. In the meta realm, down below, I have long talks with both of you about trying to get along, letting go of ego setbacks and the like. Neither of you think that's a good idea, note the insurgency in Irbil, Iraq. But you know what speaks louder than words? Sex, of course. Juny and I are happy like that too, so we can all keep going like this... dancing in the clubs, coming straight home to Juny, then getting loved by angels in my dreams, and everyone takes care of Nana cause it's that fuckin good...

We also got some storm names to celebrate all the good times we've been enjoying, like Nakri - Na crie (Na screams in french) and Halong. Of course there was another Hurricane Iselle, just like when I brought up that storm in Aug. 2008  - is still elle! And Cristoball from the other night... that's the nominee and winner of the storm name of the year award!  Christ oh ball! goes with Nakri and Halong, except more intense - and it's all in my imagination---

There's no such thing as privacy with you Bill, ever since we ditched myspace and its private messaging system. You'll have to settle for a picture. And if some cyber manipulators from St. Maarten find this page - - Mama told you not to come!

Then, on the way to finally getting along, the bottom dropped out with Robin Williams' terribly sad passing. Immediately I sent you this:

...along with a picture Estelle took that very same day.

I wasn't sure to post this Twitter pose in the blog, but the next day on Aug 12, Lauren Bacall passed away. La reine back all? Nice quip about a normal size butt, while all hell is breaking loose over Nicky Minaj booties. The way I see it, big butts are a disproportionate, over the top niggaz fantasy going amuck. It can't be an easy life carrying them around! Knocking things over, getting stuck in chairs, no sleeping on she back... and let's be logical for a moment... unless you have a very big dick, how can you enjoy the whole menu when there's so much junk outside the trunk? I think cute, normal size butts will have their day once again. Here on the island every girl has a derriere that sticks way out, so I'm actually the exotic one - got to adore island ladies, doe.

Before we get serious, here's some fresh pictures. Merci once more, Estelle!

I was so hurt the day Robin Williams died. That day was like comedy took its own life. I was also shocked/stunned/ mortified this message would materialize. I told you, there's no robbin' William's. It's very wrong to think, no matter how powerful, that anything can come between us, or between Juny and I. Steady as she goes.

And robbin' William's what? Nothing can be taken from you, except maybe your hold on reality. As I beamed to Robin when he curiously visited me telepathically that night, "Do you realize the gravity of your message? How meaningful your name is to our poem?" He likes poetry too, and was intrigued, I think.

He lived in such a state of bliss being onstage, coming off was a downer he couldn't face straight, also like Don Alias, my late percussionist husband who was hyper-medicated for the same reason, and also left the earth prematurely. There's a somber occupational hazard.

One thing sticks in my mind though, the police said they found Robin in a seated position, alluding to autoerotic asphyxia (I can't believe I spelled that right). I would expect that my magic far exceeds any pleasure derived from choking while you choke. If your voodoo over me is any indication, that shit is so fucking unnecessary. That's the Nakri niceness of communicating in the Zone.

And what about Seth's Family Guy episode airing in the UK the day Williams' died, showing this?

First he predicts the Boston Marathon bombing and now... Seth is evidently and without a doubt The Illuminati.

Isn't it great to be a comedian?



But now here's the best one yet; I feel convinced and confident that you, Bill, feel me, and tell me as much - I know it now. Whereas Silva, what does he know? He looks like he knows more than he lets on, with those shamanic eyes... out of deepest Africa - but in his case it's so primal, there won't be any reverse flip word clues. I'm doing my best to ignore the implications, just enjoying some well glazed dancing and running out before the lights get bright. At my age I'm no longer needing recognition or provoking to find out more than I need to know. I scintillate in mystery, ignorance is very bliss and everything is funny.

Hey, that's how you keep a metaphysical soufflé well plumped, and I can always use more poetry! Here's something I saw outside Estelle's that reached out to me from both of you - Malossi - mal aussi - hurting too... Daelim - da elle him... fone. That was the day of the photo shoot. It was so poetic! Am I a cheap date, or what?

                                                                                                                                   
All this time, starting about a week after I wrote, Israel and Gaza have been at war. These wars are sickening. As I tweeted on July 31st:

Right after this tweet, US news forgot all about Israel and switched to Isis and the Michael Brown shooting. After the media stopped paying attention, Israel and Hamas reached an extended cease fire. Co-incidence? I don't think so, I think the corporate media complex creates the news. More and more people agree, even the media itself is self reflexive. It's about time!

Michael Brown, the big story of the week sucked the air out of everything else. We outdid ourselves again. Mic elle Brown. Time to write. Time to hurry up and write. Riots erupting in Ferguson, MO over the white cop's shooting of a black unarmed man, and here's that word 'son' again! Ferg is an old Irish word for ferocity. Ferg you son. Sweet nothings.

The police really fucked up over and over in this case. Besides all the gunshots, they waited a week to release any information, giving ample time for the entire country to get rightfully angry. By the time the name of the officer was finally given, the media had us artfully at the edge of madness.

Yep, the name of the officer elicited a double chuckle from me... Darren Wilson - daring Will's son - more confrontational rhetoric between you two! But wait, was it dearin' Will son? After all the fun we had with the angels the other night, it's looking optimistic!

The irony of Michael stealing a box of cigars (to celebrate the arrival of our son) was not lost on me either.

And what about Isis showing up as a violent entity in the 21st century? She is, of course, da Egyptian goddess, whose name means 'the throne'. Ancient Aliens would tell you she's a hybrid from another planet. Here's what I got from Wikipedia: "The popular motif of Isis suckling her son Horus, however, lived on in a Christianized context as the popular image of Mary suckling the infant son Jesus from the fifth century onward." Except Isis also married her brother Osiris.

Will angel Silva keep feeding us exquisite sensations? For now I'm gonna keep going dancing - I just wanna keep loving you both, loving Juny, dancing and working out the body with tantric sex.

Ideally, we could get back to focusing on busting Republicans. The GOP is betting on it, shelling out $350,000 to sue Obama. This mimics your strategy of re-energizing the Democratic base by going after the President... I think it's gonna work too. And remember in the last post I mentioned something about targeting Andrew Cuomo for his terrible medical marijuana program? There actually was some news about a corruption scandal against him in the Moreland Commission, but the scum media squelched the story, offering the Rick Perry indictment as consolation. Cuomo might still get knocked out in the gubernatorial race; his opponent is a nice liberal lady with the interesting name of Zephyr Teachout.

I see Richard Attenborough just died at 90. Attend (wait) bore - oh... I better post this blog soon!

In parting, here's a quote from philosopher, psychonaut and ethnobotanist Terence Mc Kenna:

“The syntactical nature of reality, the real secret of magic, is that the world is made of words. And if you know the words that the world is made of, you can make of it whatever you wish.”

Right now the word is THEO!!!


------------------------------------------Aug 28th- extra sumtin I just have to add in________________

Here's what happened the day after I posted this blog:

A forget-me-not message on CNN backed by an 11 shot gun salute. That's gangsta - BAAP BAAP!