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!

"I'll have what she's having"

Today's opening remarks illustrate that if you don't keep up with so called conspiracy theories, you're setting to trip yourself up, especially if you're in the mainstream media. This time it starts with Marco Rubio's blockhead denial of manmade climate change followed a couple days later with Rubio reversing his opinion, citing mitigation as a new technology to counter global warming. Mitigation and solar radiation management are of course, the politically correct terms for chemtrails. Check these scientific paper titles I got from Wikipedia under Solar Radiation Management (my highlights):

Committee on Science, Engineering, and Public Policy (1992). "Policy Implications of Greenhouse Warming: Mitigation, Adaptation, and the Science Base" National Academy Press

Keith Bower, et al. (2006). "Assessment of a Proposed Technique for Global Warming Mitigation via Albedo-Enhancement of Marine Stratocumulus Clouds"

Albedo-enhancement of marine stratocumulus clouds? Yes, that's messing with the atmosphere... with risky, unknown consequences. The term 'mitigation' is geoengineers' tag to present chemtrails to the public in such an ambiguous way that very few people parroting this term actually understand what it means. Do your research, politicians and media personalities!  It's understandable that Marco Rubio would say mitigation and not understand shit, but even Ed mitigated bubbles in the following segments:




I don't mean to sound cynical, but how could you not look for hidden agendas in light of what we've seen? The recently released National Climate Assessment report confirming doom and gloom from manmade climate change is an introductory measure towards public acceptance of chemtrails. They're serving aluminum, barium and strontium and expect you to lap it up.

Then there's your sideways swipe... Here's a completely confused hint at God knows what if I ever heard one.




Right back at you with the following take on Benghazi...

I noticed Benghazi pops up like a rash each time Hillary is exasperated by the enormous pressure of running at her age. She's been gassy...  The last time we got gassed by an outbreak of Benghazi started with April 22nd's Interim Report on the Citizens' Commission on Benghazi, released soon after April 11th, the day she got a shoe thrown at her, making her look - and feel - too old for any of this.

As suggested all along, the actual motive fueling the Arab Spring, Isis and other terrorist news shows is the destabilization of the Middle East, to facilitate Western encroachment and slow China's spread over the entire African continent. Republicans know there's something going on over there but they can't communicate the enormity of it, so they putz around Benghazi and the video without making a clear case. They can't - because the illuminati discourages this information going public. So why bother? I guess politics are limping along...

Same thing for Sudan, about which VICE did a great piece. Couldn't the West take out al-Bashir with one drone? It was refreshing to hear your guest Glen Greenwald call out the West's willingness to back some terrorists and not others, although it would have been nice to hear him talk more about geopolitical underpinnings.

Then there's hashtag bring our girls back. According to 21stCenturyWire dot com, Boko Haram is just another terrorism franchise of the CIA. Here's an excerpt from their piece entitled 'Boko Haram: US Africom's Latest False Flag Franchise':

"One only needs to read the strategic briefings in U.S. AFRICOM documents to realize the true endgame for Africa: the eviction of China economic and political influence throughout the continent, and when it comes to achieving that goal - anything goes..."

The name Boko Haram has multiple levels of meaning. The official explanation is 'Western education is a sin', taken from haram, an Arabic word meaning forbidden, and boko, a derivative of book.  According to Mohammed Kabir of the BBC's Hausa service, boko actually means inauthentic or fake. Fake is forbidden...Ha! Fake is the law of the land in the West! The African scream for rationality flashes for an instant. I have no doubt savages are torturing women in Africa and schoolgirls are kidnapped, but it also makes sense these men are inflamed by the West to serve geopolitical interests, wringing out latent violence which could just as easily be diminished from their personalities if given half a chance to evolve. Then there's the phonetic name meaning: Beaucoups harem.... lots of hos. The French word 'beaucoups' pronounced boko means many. Whether this word game is intentional is a mystery to me as well, I'm only archiving here.

~

Ok Bill, now where were we? We're done testing I hope. In the May post I left off with a picture in the sulphur springs of Dominica. Since I feel you today more than ever, we'll start like we left off.

Perhaps I should just stop here and call it a day for this post. All my instincts tell me to do just that!

First a little health report, as of June 4th, I'm feeling great! A new health routine and regular dance outings are turning the clock tic tic tic... right back. The picture above is 'before'.

While mixing a honey oat mask I was reminiscing about old letters from early 2010; the first thing that came to me was, "have I been nice to Bill?" The unequivocal, immediate response from our angel: "My pussy hates asshole Bill". Nevertheless, the next story I have to plant on you is directly attributable to getting my health back, body humming nicely, myalgic encephalomyelitis a fast fading nuisance. And Sensi is playing a good part. That's the bright side.

I just passed up forwarding a chain letter about having '5 Fridays in August' and therefore I'm taking a vow of poverty by not sending it. Which is ok, less money equals fewer responsibilities... if your desires are fulfilled. I would gladly renounce material trappings to be able to confide safely everything I want to tell you. Perhaps retain a few scraps of clothes... Anyway, up to the age of 12 all I heard was how I'd make a terrific lawyer... Catie sera une avocate. That's all I heard. So here we are, and this is my big case. Am I coming on too professionally aggressive for a woman so far, so eager to establish the existence of magic, yet missing the whole point about the feelings that exalt it?

All I can divulge in the prologue is there's no couching this one, and if you do love science, you'll listen with an open mind. I figured out this is a setup anyway, a nice one at that. Don Sterling would agree, so we just gotta plunge head first. Unlike Don, the false media manipulator who would rather go to jail on property tax fraud than collect $2 billion, I fully intend to plead insanity.

Last time we met, Flight 370 was like a bad drug you can't shake, and I hoped tying it into our narrative would make it would go away. We now know it will never go away...  Quite to the contrary, after I posted on May 1st, they announced the search would take years.... YEARS, with the next phase starting in August, at the earliest. For once we're all on the same page; even Obama quipped at the Correspondents' Dinner how jet lagged he was following his trip to Malaysia: "the lengths we have to go to get CNN coverage these days." You also devoted a New Rules to this (Long live the Marleys!)




Saving it for last, you looked straight into the camera and implied dating Chris Brown is more dangerous than hunting with Dick Cheney. Really! Then electronically dating Cat Brown isn't a serial wet dream? Likely to be syndicated season after season - since I'm madly in love with your namesake angel for eternity!

In the wake of Chris Christie's Bridgegate lobotomy, crystallized into prose in "Tire tracks all across Guv's back", lately I sensed you'd like to repeat this trick. In this clip about congressman-restaurateur Michael Grimm, a guy I couldn't resist calling by name in the last post, you're ready to Google a voodoo doll.




Ok, I'm applying for the job. I already live in this awful limbo where I'm opening my most intimate thoughts right here, privacy long ago surrendered, to figure out how we can streamline them kooky word games to our benefit.

So I was waiting for something very funny to happen... The menu is copious; maybe a resplendent prank on fake marijuana ally Andrew Cuomo... or take your pick! David Brat, the conservative enfant terrible who poofed Eric Cantor already has a good opening line: he said winning against Cantor is a miracle from God.

Here's something we have in common and enjoy doing; comic angel scripting... you could call it the fairness doctrine that's more than fair. Are you also beginning to think we can shape this energy? The day after I hear the voodoo doll casting call, I'm listening to CCTV Chinese TV. There's Aussie Edwin Maher, boy wonder from down under, and it occurs to me... here could be a new hobby: Aide Win Maher.

But week after week in May, nothing happened in the news. Actually, it happened to me right here, live and direct! So, before we can scrap on the world scene, we have to get personal and climb some hurdles.

Don't freak out, it's nothing really, except thoughts! Innocent, uncontrollable, unrealized thoughts. I went dancing in a Jamaican nightclub and had a great time. Such a good time... All my life I wandered around hopelessly and in vain for some music to dance to. I hate house music. I'll decorate your house but I don't want to hear it. The only violent ruminations I've ever felt were towards a DJ... Finally, New Year's Eve, I found these Jamaican guys... They even play hip hop! So one night I'm bubbling in the club, bouncing and swaying in ecstasy to all the right dips in the beat, gorgeous black chicks with adorable bumpas rubbing up coyly once in a while, when the DJ sings thru the speakers I could 'fuck High Up Family!'

That was funny. As the guys were forming a cozy circle around the dancers, I escaped in one piece, as I do each and every time, but when I got home, well fizzed and all hotted up, two rounds with cutie hubby weren't enough to cool me down. That's when I felt her, just like I feel our angel. She was giving it to me from a distance... WTF? Satisfying me JUST LIKE THAT. I opened up. At one point I heard she voice innaside a mi... Voice: "Are you raping me?"

     

                                                                                    Mi a seh "Yes!"

This went on and on, infuckingcredible til I fell asleep. Couple hours later the voice accompanying that great feeling woke me up...  "More ahgonee. Pum pum tun up!" (indirect translation, you can imagine...)

On this early morning, a shawoman was testing me without the intense love emotions I am used to with our angel. It was simply a mindfuck, if that can be termed as simple. It's not emotional, it's spiritual. Please retain the part about not being emotional. As far as spirituality, I'll try to explain... opening my entire being is the joy. We had a great time, our angel was all over it, and did you enjoy that story?

Just then hurricane Amanda came out in the East Pacific. Dragged out into the light again... A man, duh! Yeah, it might be reasonable to assume it takes a masculine energy to get high end low-tech like that. The shawoman story didn't hold up in court. My best defense here is that I have no idea what happened. It's that damn psychic talent!

Earlier in May I sensed a preliminary rebuttal when Solange viciously attacked Jay Z for a still unknown reason, except the obvious one that her rival sibling is the most exquisitely sexy and talented musician. The night before, I had been getting fluffed up to prime fuckability by Gucci Mane's music. It's just the music I love! Of course, it's still and always "Seul Ange" ... On May 28th, I also heard something in Maya Angelou's passing.. Ma ya angel, ou - Ma ok with Angel, or? (ou in french means or).

How could I describe the love I feel since over 20 years to the one I give myself to, heart, body and soul? Happy 20th anniversary, by the way! I've been telling angel how much I love him now and forever, sort of like others are devoted to baby Jesus, but I know he feels it more than words. He should be completely secure in this knowledge. He came back on June 3rd with tropical storm Boris - Be or is? Is! Is! Is and always will be as one. What I learned from all the tests, and everything I've written about so far is is that the only thing standing in our way from accomplishing great things is jealousy, and that's so unnecessary! I hope writing candidly about this is the right thing to do, and by confronting it (not easy for me to get this personal, by the way) I can communicate this feeling of security and immutability that is our love. We gotta focus, there's so much work to do before the elections! (the gap between haves and have-nots needs bridging, mother earth needs a good shampoo, you feel what'm saying?)

In last week's New Rule you made it clear that bad boys can't be changed, but I don't see any bad boys here!? Even Satan is getting good press these days. The new philosophy that ingratiates him with the aliens is that He's one with God. He was just trying to impart knowledge to mankind... they're saying he's been misunderstood all this time. I agree, a long time tenet of zen is that we're all one; east and west spirituality meet.

So anything is possible! I heard an eagerness to achieve great things together in your last line from May 23rd:




There you have it. That's the 'grand mess ah!' I was tweeting you about at the end of May.

I have to admit I'm apprehensive concerning what will happen when you read this, trying to reassure myself that a calamity with or without a catchy name would happen anyway.


                        
 I can't help feeling there's a hint in this last line, from May 16th.



I'll isolate the face for you this time, though:

All I can do is assure you I'm past the age of being outa control (since I was 20 actually, and moved from sexually liberated Montreal to marry in NYC). After 22 years of convalescing, I want to dance again, come home, pop that spring physically and then... surrender myself to an orb of perfect orgasmic energy (thanks for your inspiring line from Politcking with Larry King).

I better send this letter soon, I can't keep up with the material! It's almost ready... I'm aiming to be a week ahead of my two month posting interval. If no poetic calamity happens after I post, then I'll say "heckofajob Brownie!" Why do I get the feeling you're thinking the other way around?





A mega advantage about all this is that I'm no longer looking to expand my readership by leaps and bounds. You want your privacy? Voila!

Angel asks... "Pussy? Going dancing this weekend?" "Yes! We're going to sex up the place at Air Lekkerbek with DJ General Speed, I'm tremendously pleased."

All these Jamaicans have really improved the club scene. Ironically, in 2011 the St. Maarten govt. implemented strict visa requirements to keep out Jamaicans and Guyanese, but the ladies working at airport customs are so welcoming they pay no attention to who needs what docs. In '05 I crossed the border with a cat under each arm and the lovely St. Maarten girl didn't even notice...

~

If my parents hadn't taken me away from war torn Algiers in 1962, I could very well be wearing a burka today.  No! lol! Good parenting on their part, that and having my tonsils removed.

As Tom Robbins wrote in 'Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates' on why 'lusty Semitic and pre-Semitic lasses' were covered from head to toe, "Had the men been ego-wounded cry babies and scaredy cats, or were the women that free, that hot?" At least I'm preserving the tiny little burka over my mind that keeps me from sharing the blog with our Jamaican friends.

I did get other feedback about this adventure... of the dead celebrity kind. Besides Maya Angelou, singer Ruby Dee passed away last week. Ruby Dee, Ruby Dee, what could that be? I figured it out. Rub he dit (dit pronounced 'dee' is french for tell). Rub he tell. Soon after, American Top 40 DJ Casey Kasem also passed away. Kiss he, kiss em? I couldn't stop laughing at the time!

How's the case coming along? It's essentially a treatise on the love of music. I guzzle all those good feelings and share them with angel. Nothing more. I married a musician the first time around and barely escaped with my life. All these guys are married too. The only one who isn't married is you! Remember the girl I picked for you way back in Feb of 2009? Here's the letter I wrote:

"For a while now, I've been wondering who could be the right girl for you. Hear out my idea… if you were married, we would both have a stable infrastructure at home, and maybe then could we blog in peace. Even George Carlin says the fidelity commandment could not possibly include merely thinking about someone. In his own words, "I don’t think you should outlaw fantasizing about someone else’s wife, otherwise what’s a guy going to think about when he’s waxing his carrot?" So I started to sift through the hopefuls and first ruled out your typical libidinous, impulsive objects of desire... Actually I concluded you need a nice Jewish girl… and I saw her today! Watching Sarah Silverman in 'Jesus is Magic', I found her incredibly funny, compatibly acerbic, and cute. She even wears your kind of clothes. There’s only one thing that bugs me: as this white ting approaches two homeboys, shouldn’t they be devouring her with their eyes? I know they’re trying to act, but they don’t look gay… wouldn’t they at least betray some kind of lusty sparkle? This had me a little perplexed, but it might be fun to crack that nut and find out."

Me and my bright ideas! Recently I heard she has a history of getting in trouble for saying the word chink. She tried to get out of jury duty by writing she loves chinks. At least we know it wasn't sexual.

Wow, reading this letter again reminds me that I've taken fidelity to the next level, disproving George Carlin's theory that it's ok to fantasize about others in private. Au contraire, I complicitly share every thought and feeling with mon ange and then blab it all on this blog. I rest my case.                                              

                              

~

Did you know it's still snowing this June in Montana, Utah and Wyoming? They haven't tagged a name on it, but here's a little controversy about storm names I'd like to address. As we know, a lot of people have complained about the Weather Channel naming storms. Now the website 'decoded Science' has stepped in with their own snow storm names. It was decoded Science which named Zephyr back on April 13th,  Zephyr is of course, my twittter name.

Well, the Weather Channel named Zephyr on Mother's Day, so it was named twice. Sweet touch... Zephyr on Mother's Day!

Then decoded Science pointed out the mix up, and decided to name the storm Beaver!!!

Here we go with the animal names! Can't catch a break... As far as naming it aardvark, I'd rather it be called anaconda.