Its that tall, skinny white bird that started it. Eating my fathead, I mean.

So, last night I was trying to piece through a horrible incident where I was nearly-NEARLY, but not-assaulted by coons. It wouldn’t have been the first time–I have been cornered in every which way by raccoons for most of my life. But, then too, I have learned what to do, and what not to do around rabid, and tame raccoons.

And, sadly–this revelation about my own personal deviance–in a sort of sick, degenerate homage’ and flashback to a bygone era, I once cut the tails off a few coons, and hung them from my car antenna. No, really-I was young, once, and prone to American nostalgia, and did things that were very, very American. Like hanging coon tails from my cars radio antenna. I had no idea, then, about the significance of a coon tail, hanging from an automobile.

I even had a Davy Crockett cap, and a pop gun once, too. Then I outgrew them, and developed a sense of righteous indignation that modern Americans seem to have lost: I began to admire Indians, and AIM, and even at one time–all American girl Mellissa Olsen can verify this, especially if you look at her early works–the Wireshark captures from 2011-12– let it be known that I felt deep sorrow for the women of Pine Ridge reservation, you know, Anna Mae?

Because THEN, I had little knowledge about how the era that saw coon tails hung from car antennas was also related to Wooodrow Wilson, the KKK, and other unseemly American traditions. (No-don’t even try to keep up lil’ dragon–stay in thse sky, where you belong).

Well anyways–this tall white bird started it all. The evidence? It started with the corpse of just ONE fathead minnow. RIP, fathead minnow!

I mean, the recent, 2009-2014 round of harassment, and eating my minnows(which I put there for him, of course, after he and the coons conspired to eat my Koi..;-(). I found one little minnow–a fathead–floating on my pond, with bruises on it’s belly! Sad, sad moment-I couldn’t save the little minnow! I tried everything-mouth to mouth, warm fingers and soft strokes to its underbelly, warm hand to water immersion therapy–but that darned big bird had mauled the minnow beyond repair.

And then, he ate my Koi…!


Last night, I tried to upload his photo (and I am sure he is male, based on the fact that he drives one of those big, tall, compensating Ford trucks that has never, ever seen an actual days work, and he parks like a drunk driver in Target parking lots, desperate to alert the door security (one of their own) that a national threat (lil’ ol’ me?) has just parked in the lot–him, or me (him.)? The people can decide, I think–and I was stopped at every point!

A whole army of bloody Jesuses on a stick couldn’t have helped me! Just like I was stopped from downloading screencasting software to document these sorts of things. I feel like I wish I had a big huge Jesus stick nailed all over my forehead–like a big red letter warning people that I have  been caught downloading screencasting software to help protect me from redirection, internet search hijacking, malware installations, program subversion, firewall breaching, Anti-Virus disabling subversion by the NSA, and all of those freedom luvin’ coon tail hangin’ window peekers at the local fusion centers in America!!

But I think my personal Scarlet letter would be the letter x, because my head feels like a xylophone, banged on all day and night by the incessant drumming of propaganda, and lies spewed by news agencies who work for the war industry!! or and X-ray!

I might just go out tomorrow and get a tattoo, before they come for me, and give me one! Oh, wait–the Mansons p*owned that already;-( Maybe-the Y chromosome-I would even tattoo it on my ass if she wants…?

But MS has this cool feature–you can record your screen, your clicks, and analyze them later–and every thing your machine does and doesn’t do voluntarily–does and does not do, within the parameters of working over a redirected connection, whose backbone is full of cancer, that is.

And of course, I didn’t have it on last night–after all, who cares anymore how these big, straggly birds try to subvert your intentions, or eat your fathead minnows? Who cares if these crappie minnow eating pests subvert the very nature of your pond–who eagerly fly in from places all over the world to dine at my wildlife trap (my pond)?

–or to try to channel you into a canyon in order to drop rocks on your head? Cavemen are so passe’. But Big Bird thinks he has me figured out, that’s for sure. I just hope big bird is ready for a few unflattering snaps of him and his coons eating at my honeypot/pond. Because my water comes from the sea across the sea, actually, and every single drop? I have a picture of it falling from the faucet, and that faucet is leaky indeed.

But I am getting off track-I have memory, and concentration problems, likely due to the stress of having to document my reality–as they will say one day ‘it’s my own fault,’ or some other path narc slogan.

Well-this big, skinny bird was in my backyard awhile ago–and this time, I was prepared for him! I blasted him with my Sony!


Do you see the suspect? Tall-about 6’3″, brown loafers most of the time, brown hair (they match!) likely drives a Ford with sooped up tires, and a club cab (compensation?)–parks crooked at most Target stores–you get the picture–oh shit–I am splitting again; reliving another story as I write this one! NO–see to the right of center? That big gangly white egret! So far, the coons and egrets that I blast with my Sony are to the right of center in each picture. And, here is a host of clues about my latest bastion! I can see the men of King Arthur’s round table scaling my walls to get at my (2…) or merely to prove that testosterone and adrenalin, combined with moral sellf righteousness, beat wine every time!



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