Friday, July 29, 2011


At this point it is necessary to clarify that our family has no connection whatsoever to historical events upon which are based the Broadway show that purports itself to be based upon real-life events in the city of LaGrange, Texas, to be more specific the infamous "Chicken Ranch" located about 2.5 miles of downtown LaGrange. That establishment has nothing to do with us and our family history and no mention of it is made of it in our family history book, so obviously everyone knows that the Chicken Ranch story has nothing to do with us. Of course, one cannot expect a stupid Raging Bitch like Libby Penders to know anything about the history of Texas so we will simply ignore her pathetically stupid outbursts on this point. Obviously, anyone who knows anything would know that my ancestors probably did not have any role in that story so there is no reason to audition, obviously. Besides, we need to remember that Libby has so many problems. What would a Jehovah Witness know about the love of Christ anyway? Absolutely nothing. Obviously, no one is going to take anything that clueless bimbo Libby says seriously. Obviously.

Thursday, July 28, 2011


In my genealogical ramblings, not to be confused with the grandiose delusions of the Texas land office archival state-sponsored prostitution ring, I recently uncovered the fact that my Dad's Uncle Ben had a son named David not to be confused with the son of my Dad's Uncle Ariel whose name also is David, and a daughter named Laurie, not to be confused with my first cousin whose name also is Laurie of whose existence I am aware. Only a psycho would make anything of these name similarities. Like, so what? Like, why should I care? I was never aware of the existence of either David until the last five years. It is surprising for me to learn that there were any of my Dad's relatives living in Northern California given the fact that I always thought that all of my Dad's relatives were from Southern California, not that I was aware of Joe and Dora having any children as no one ever mentioned their existence to me. I really do not understand the connection to Long Beach because I never actually lived there so cannot really comment due to family complications, not that I would know anything about that.

It seems that Uncle Ben's son David died in 1981 in South Carolina, according to public records posted on How did a San Francisco-born person wind up dead in the Deep South at age 35? Was he married with children? I never knew that he existed so it is hard for me to say anything about him. Nor was I aware of the existence of his sister Laurie.

The same is true of Uncle Ariel's David. I never knew that my Dad's Uncle Ariel has five children. No one ever mentioned their existence to me, let alone introduced us, so it is surprising to learn of their existence after so many years of their nonexistence. I was only aware of redheaded Danny because we met at a funeral. He said he remembers seeing us when we were little redheaded children but I have no memory of him or of the imaginary world which he inhabits in lieu of reality.

It just wasn't like that as far as I am concerned, but then again I do not remember anything about that.


It is vaguely interesting to note that I have a second cousin once removed whose name is Marvin Barth. Marvin has a daughter whose name is Linda Jeanne and who is my sister's age. I have never met these people and never want to meet them judging from all these weird hints. Anyone who is from "Tracy" in California is probably clueless about reality and lives in Lala land just like some other Tracy people I may be slightly aware of even though their existence is not important and of no significance to me given that they are clueless about reality and never have anything intelligent to say anyway.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Poor Richard

My cousin Rich is confused. Just because I spent a couple of months, four actually, doing an internship at a newspaper in California, that does not mean that I am not his cousin. There was that girl who lived near them in Walnut Creek and was a good friend of my cousin David and near the same age as he and who was also working at the newspaper in the production department at the same time that I was doing my internship although I do not remember her name. Someone said that she was a lesbian and that she and her partner bought the house that formerly belonged to my aunt, Richard's mother. Obviously I do not own a house in Walnut Creek so that has nothing to do with me, nor do I remember anything about her or if I even met her or only was told something about her. Obviously she is not related to me and there is no connection between myself and her, myself having left after four months never to return to that place ever again. I have a lot of other things to think about besides wondering who all the Andrews connections were, as if I care. I don't care, actually, and that is another reason, one of many reasons actually, not to care about the supposedly "hip" Bay Area and other parts of Northern California where I really do not have anything to go back to. It is just not for me.

Rude Susie

Yes, how rude of Susie not to invite me to her wedding shower held somewhere in the San Diego area or even her wedding, and then after all those years to demand a present from me, as if I know anything about those people and whatever it is they do down there wherever they are. These people expect me to give all to them and them nothing to me. That is what selfish and greedy little pigs they are, all oink oink oink and is there any wonder that Susie weighs about five hundred pounds while married to a creep like that? No, it is not surprising that she could stay employed over there where anything goes, no commitment necessary, no need to stand for anything as long as you have lots of money and connections connections connections.


Yes, Judy Umstead always did have the most rotten attitude of any person I ever saw in my life. I only roomed with her for two months and that was much too long. I never want to hear another word about or from that horrible person from Pennsylvania. If her boyfriend Joe did break up with her later I would not be surprised given that no one could get along with her or tolerate her temper tantrums and sudden screaming fits as for example when my alarm clock woke her up and also the time I dropped my hairbrush in the sink while getting ready for breakfast. I think that she lived in Pennsylvania which is another reason to avoid that state like the plague. I am sorry about Joe but it is not entirely my fault. I am sure that she has plenty of reason to blame herself and using me as a scapegoat is a very pathetic excuse for a rotten attitude in my opinion. The truth is that Judy was stupid. I do not remember every talking to Joe so I think she is stretching her cards way too thin because mostly she has only herself to blame, probably.


I remember that during my senior year in high school one of the missionary wives, Vickie Smeya, gave me a copy of Seventeen magazine but with some pages torn out so that my tender adolescent eyes would not be corrupted by something. Well, that was weird. How stupid do these people think I am anyway? Are you calling me an ignoramus? Obviously, all I had to do one day while in the school library and looking at Seventeen magazine there, all complete with all the pictures and nothing cut out, was to look at that particular issue and flip through the pages to see that it was an article about Linda from "The Exorcist," a movie that I never saw anyway nor did I read the article, just flipped by and saw that it was not anything that I would want to read anyway, thanks anyway. There were people in my high school who did see that movie but I was not one of them, nor is there any reason why I should have to explain this minor detail of my complicated life to some stupid witch ranting and screaming on the other end of the phone, thanks anyway.


The question for today is whether Italians are really black people pretending to be white or white people pretending to be black. The same might be said of all brown people. Italians and Spaniards all look almost the same to us white people and they all speak a Latin-based language with some variations. So we don't really notice the Italians in the crowd but they know who they are. Take for example these Alfaros. Are they Spanish or Italian?
Spanish: Habitational name from a place in LogroƱo province named Alfaro, apparently from Arabic al ‘the’ + Old Spanish faro ‘beacon’, ‘lighthouse.
Italian: First found in Calabria, a territorial district of Italy. Ancient Calabria was in Lecce. Modern Calabria is in the southern extremity of Italy coasting the straits of Messina. Reggio and Messina are the cities of note. This beautiful region produces wine, olive oil and fruit. Reggio was heavily bombed during WWII because of its strategical link with Sicily. In those ancient times only persons of rank, the pedestal, clergy, city officials, army officers, artists, landowners were entered into the records. To be recorded at this time, at the beginning of recorded history, was of itself a great distinction and indicative of noble ancestry.

So from this information we can imagine that perhaps somehow, someway, our high school classmates Carmen Alfaro and Joanne Calabrese might be distant cousins of some sort given their ancient roots in Italy's Calabria district, sort of, maybe. Also, we see that these Italians all think that they are descended from ancient nobility, making their blood somehow of higher caliber than us plain folks, which explains why these people imagine themselves the stars of the show in Boccaccio's "Decameron," isolated as they are in the villas of Florence.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The Vicious Crouch Clan

Yes, we cannot have anyone imagining that the putrid Crouch family is in any way related or connected to us. Look at those greedy Crouch dogs just salivating at the ring of coins clanking, dollar bills flowing into their enormous coffers already bulging to the bursting point with the spoils of North America. Why do Paul and Jan not commit to paying off the national debt with their charge accounts. Certainly they probably could so they should, right? TV is nice but Jesus is the only thing that matters to me. I really do not care who runs the show. Anyone will do as long as Jesus is glorified and not the greedy Crouch clan.

Thieving Jan

I wonder when someone will finally put a plug to the mouth of thieving lying trashy lowlife Jan Crouch and her brood of whiny selfish greedy TV trash? In a million years I am not going to sign over my inheritance to that bitchy old shrew. There she is on TV yapping like a magpie, surrounded in furs and luxuries in her multi-million dollar mega mansion while expecting me to live in a dirt floor hovel and shovel dirt so that she can continue to fuel her Lear jet crisscrossing the continent on a daily basis. I have no jet engine in my garage so cannot hope to compete with that level of wealth and affluence. Still, I am not planning to sign over to the TBN trash everything that my grandfather worked so hard for, as if she were related to us and as if there were anything that I did to deserve salvation given that I am a born sinner anyway. Someone really needs to send a clear signal to Paul and Jan to get their cotton pickin' butts out of our personal lives. We cannot afford to wait while they amass their personal fortune and bleed us dry. You cannot get blood out of a turnip. Sorry, but it just does not work that way. Get lost, wicked Jan. Goodbye Jan! Get your disgusting butt out of my life Jan! Just being acquainted with my distant relatives, having met them over tea and cookies at the Mother Nile movie screening, does not qualify you as related to me. Sorry but no cigars allowed.

Friday, July 22, 2011


Vocabulary lesson for today
Luna: moon
Lunar: birthmark

That was so weird. Ok, so I have a birthmark on my arm. So? Like, who cares? Are you telling me that you are crazy? Having a birthmark on my arm does not make me some freak of nature so I know I am not the one who is crazy here. Lots of people have birthmarks in various places and it is no big deal. Mine just looks like a giant freckle. It is just that my other freckles on my arm are so small in comparison and not really near the birthmark so it sort of stands out. Like, what is that supposed to mean other than you are a superstitious pagan psycho? Like am I supposed to be impressed with your stupid nonsense? It would not be so hard to ignore you if no one took you seriously which they really shouldn't because you are not worth it.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Missionary Career

Of course, the missionary career is not what it used to be. In the old days you just went overseas and never really came back or if you did come back it was forty years later and you were venerated and held in awe by the supporters who financed your many years overseas starting churches and training workers, etc. Nowadays, missionaries get no respect. You could end up like Joe Register, a salesman in a furniture store. Well, that is a different story than ours, mostly. But the Registers just could not continue in the missionary world after producing one lousy film every three or four years, not nearly enough to justify tens of thousands of dollars spent on buildings, expensive television and video equipment, soundstage, props and puppets, etc. A sad story, to be sure, but not really surprising given that Joe's daughter Christie was in charge of it all, Christie being sort of funny at puppeteering but not really. Sometimes these comedians are more angry than funny and in fact not really that funny, just weird. But that is what happens when the Registers will not let anyone else run the studio. They just shut the whole thing down.


That is really lame, ladies, trying to dump me in a military bucket. My father is a missionary, obviously, as was also my great-grandfather and my Dad's aunt and uncle. We are a missionary family mostly. It is true that I do have an uncle or two who were in the military, but only because they married into the family, not because they are actually my relatives. And then there was my grandmother's sister who married a colonel, a second marriage of elderly people of which I know almost nothing, but that does not make me a military brat, obviously. A missionary is not the same thing as military personnel, obviously.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Speaking Of Parties

I recently was looking through the old "Trojan Times" high school newspaper, what few copies I had saved, and noticed a story about Gwen Juneau inviting some people to her house for a party to organize a charity drive. They all contributed money to give presents to the children of prisoners or soldiers or something like that. I had not noticed that story originally when I was on the high school newspaper staff. Gwen did not invite me to her party but I really did not think about it very much. I do not really know Gwen at all so I am not surprised that she did not invite me to her party. I do not remember ever meeting Gwen so it did not matter to me. Just because these people's pictures appear in my high school yearbook, that does not mean that they are going to have any place in my future life whenever I get back to the United States. (Hint: Earth to Thomas Hills) There is nothing magical about high school. Anyway, it is nice that Gwen had a party and gave gifts to the children. That is nice but, anyway, it does not matter that I did not participate there as I was not invited anyway, not that I care. And I do not recall seeing Gwen Juneau invited to participate with us in door-to-door witnessing with the AIM team from Arkansas for an entire week. Perhaps Gwen would not be capable of translating and leading someone to surrender their live of Christ in the Spanish language given that she is probably not saved anyway, just like the Hills brothers are also probably not saved and never led anyone to Christ in their entire lives, only played war games. That is the problem with these mainliners who think they know everything but don't really know what matters, and this also applies to cranky old buzzard Marvin. I never want to hear another word from lowlife Marvin and his mainlining high school buddies. Do these people have any idea how many second cousins I have on my mother's side let alone my father's side? Thousands probably, and they all think they know everything and that they ought to be in charge of family business. So it logically follows that none of them are going to be in charge of me, obviously. Especially not Marvin.

Friday, July 15, 2011


Yes, I was sort of insulted by Cheryl Aday. One day at SCC I was chatting with her and saying that I had just gotten back from visiting family and my sister was there and Cheryl said that yes, she could tell that I had recently been around my sister because I was acting sort of like her, as if copycatting her, and thus she could tell that I had been around her. So that was sort of insulting, sort of like I don't exist when I am with my family because I am only imitating my sister, as if my sister did get anything good from me and I did not get anything bad from her, as if I were the family dog or something like that. How rude. And like, do I care what Cheryl Aday thinks or says about anything? No, actually not. I do not recall speaking to Cheryl Aday after that. Cheryl Aday is my sister's friend so she does not exist as is a worthless, useless person as far as I am concerned.

Thursday, July 14, 2011


Yes, that was so rude of Cori. During the camping trip, canoeing down the King's River, Cori spread my dirty underwear on a tree for all to see. When I came upon this scene Dean Chenault was standing there and asked me if I know whose it was. I think that I said I did not know and immediately removed it and put it away. It would be unreasonable to expect me to discuss my underwear with anyone other than my mother, obviously. I cannot imagine what was going through Cori's sick mind, but then again what do you expect from a trashy strip dancer-slut like Cori? Nothing much. In fact, I do not want anything else from Cori.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Partiless Me

Yes, if only I could have a party but they won't let me have a social life. I'm not sure why. Well, maybe it has something to do with the party I held for myself when I was eight years old. The children's encyclopedia, Childcraft, described how to have a party. You invite all your friends and then you all play games together. So I took the book's advice and made invitations and gave them to all my friends telling them to come to my party at a certain time on a certain day and then when everybody arrived with their parents, my parents were surprised because they had not planned anything. I had forgotten to tell my parents about the party that I had planned. Oh well, minor detail. Can't we just all play games like it says in the Childcraft book? So anyway the whole thing was sort of embarrassing for them and even more so for me. I was mortified after all the fussing. Yes, I do remember Kent Stone being particularly critical and contemptuous of me because, well, that was so bad of me. Bad girl! Bad girl! So, well, that is the last time I ever invited Kent to any party of mine, at least that much is for sure. I remember telling my Mom I did not know how I could survive that, I was so embarrassed, and my mom said that later I would not even remember that incident, I might even laugh and think it was funny. But at eight years old it did not seem very funny to be treated so rudely by all my friends. So much for having a party.


I do not recall signing any contract selling my soul or placing myself under any legal obligation whatsoever to any college roommate and/or dorm floormate. There is no reason for vicious bitch-witch ____ to pretend that she will ever have any real place in my life or that I am obligated to continue playing the role of helpless doormat to them long after they have ceased to have any role in my life. The worthless dogs of Evangel's Spence Third Floor dorm floor have no place legally to say that their approval is required before I can be declared a human being endowed with rights by my Creator and I never want to hear another word from those obnoxious people. Also, trashy worthless Cori continues to try to bait me into repeating that story she always tells about Grace. Every conversation with Cori tends to be very one-sided with her prattling on about the same or similar subject matter and myself saying nothing because there really is nothing for me to say about that. I was not there so that story has nothing to do with me.

Monday, July 11, 2011


If my little sister were running the show, I am the big sister who should be hidden in the closet most of the time and trotted out for public appearances only on family occasions. I wonder who said that? Anyway, it is unfortunate that my sister sold her soul to the devil and has made a federal case out of pretending that she was not the aggressor almost from day one, constantly messing up all my stuff, dueling with sister on a continual basis, trashing me behind my back on every possible occasion, etc. Killing her would only put me in prison but, anyway, the alternative is to have no life, to be merely the big sister appendage from whom she wants nothing which is apparently the only choice I have in this matter. One would think that I would be able to control her, that she would have some respect, but she was so little and skinny that everyone was worried that I would hurt her when actually she was the one manipulating everything and making herself look like the victim and actually she was the one constantly aggravating and teasing me. Everything I do annoys her. How dare I open my mouth when she has something to say? If she were running the show, everything would come from her and I would be relegated to the sidelines to watch whatever she wants to do because obviously whatever I want to do is not what she wants to do. So I would get in so much trouble for saying this but, anyway, like they say, if you cannot go around the mountain you have to tunnel through it.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Bad Rick, Good Rick

Yes, in some ways it was nice that the Snells appeared there in El Salvador and were so friendly and invited us to their beach house at least once where we hung out with the son Rick and he drove us around in his convertible with the top down and we all had a great time. On the other hand, it was sort of not good to have the Smeyas always hanging around because they were not really missionaries and we were not really sure exactly what they were doing there, something about being in business and doing business there, whatever. Also, the wife was not really Rick's mother but we were not sure about that situation or what to ask or say about that as we really did not know the Smeyas very well and had not met them before they appeared down there so no way to know anything about their history back in the United States. Rick might have liked my little sister although I really don't remember. Whatever. It is not like I ever had another thought of Rick after I returned to the United States to go to college. We did not stay in touch with the Snells, Rick and his father Al, later. I am not saying this to be mean but the Snells were really closer friends with the Buenos than they were with us. Rick spent a lot of time, sometimes almost every day, over at the Bueno house hanging out with the Bueno boys although I also remember him appearing at our front door a time or two. Rick rarely ever said anything to me and it is hard for me to remember anything about him. Poor guy! While we were attending high school Rick was hanging around doing nothing. I later heard that Rick married someone there, a national, and they later moved to San Diego. It is not like there would be any reason to get in touch with Rick as we were never really friends anyway. He only liked my sister.

Venus vs. Mars

I never did read that book by John Gray, "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus," which purports to explain the differences between men and women. Someone was carrying on about this book but I never read it. I sounded like it might be highly exaggerated and reduces people to simplistic cliches to say that men do nothing but confront each other in challenging ways as for example warfare while women are basically little more than sex objects. I think that these pop psychology books are not really helping a whole lot and might even create a lot of expectations in people of how everyone is supposed to fit into certain predetermined boxes that reduce society to little more than nomadic tribal groups warring amongst each other for survival of the fittest. Yes, men and women are very different but we all live on this planet called earth and therefore must get along. Are we really going to roll back centuries of progress and legalize dueling, white slavery, and other nefarious practices that have long been relegated to the darkest corners of society? I hope not but it is not really up to me. It is a group think kind of thing. Sometimes the individual just cannot win against the stupid group.

Saturday, July 9, 2011


Yes, funny how these relocated nationals think that living in Houston makes them a United States citizen. Actually, there is no significance to living in the city of Houston, being as it is just another city in Texas albeit a rather large one, as opposed to some other city in the United States. If you actually were a rocket scientist on a mission to Mars then perhaps a Houston location would be important but you are no rocket scientist as we all know. You are just another immigrant wannabe just like all the other wetbacks streaming across the border. The only difference between you and the wetback is that you have lots of money in the offshore bank or else married in whereas the wetbacks did not have the money or else gave it all to the sharks. Perhaps you would feel more at home in China where everyone gets straight As. All the countries of the world are the same to you in this global network of rich people who have money in offshore banks. Wherever you go on the planet, you have the money to pay for the rich lifestyle so it really does not matter where they move you next, whether it be Bombay or Nairobi. You will always have your mansion fully staffed, etc., and your social network of rich people with money in offshore banks, those decadent movie stars and executives living off the corporate dole and also diplomats. A nice life for sure but it does not mean that you have a clue about my life or what it means to be a true citizen of the United States of America, home of the free and the brave.

Friday, July 8, 2011


Yes, I am still wondering why I should care about all these weeds that vicious bitch-witch Carmen planted all over the place, as if I would ever again want to see her arrogant, prideful face sneering at me in contempt and disdain as in high school days. So typical of these prideful Spanish people to think they are better than everyone else when actually they are very self-absorbed and full of themselves and think that they have to be in control of everything just because they don't like white people, not because they actually have anything intelligent to say that we don't already know.

Indigenous Americans

Yes, it might be interesting to know whether there could be such a thing as an indigenous church in the United States. Mostly we think of the indigenous church as being located in some other country, not here in the U.S. where all of the people are imported from somewhere else anyway and fly out of the country to do missionary service elsewhere rather than bother trying to witness to the people at home who don't care anyway. There is a major flaw in the indigenous church principle which is the assumption that we the people of the U.S. are the imperialist aggressors and they over there are always the victims. Have these bigwigs never considered the fact that sometimes it is the other way around? When will they finally put those bigwigs in a mental hospital to ponder the error of trying to apply a 1950s mentality to the realities of the 21st century? The answer to that question is not clear.

Thursday, July 7, 2011


Yes, wee see that these silly Spanish ladies for whom those magazines were written so fascinated with these Euro trash monarchs. I vaguely remember reading somewhere about Prince Albert and his affairs out in the Palm Springs desert. We have no connection whatever to those people. However, I am not surprised to see in the newspapers these silly Spanish ladies fascinated and running to hear every tawdry detail of the sordid life of Prince Albert and his many descendants. One does feel sorry for the pathetic lady he finally married. And Princess Diana thought her marriage was crowded. Ha! We have our celebrity trash here in America but mostly they are Hollywood movie stars most of whom could not get elected president for love nor money notwithstanding the exception of President Reagan. We would prefer that our politicians concentrate on taking care of the nation's business and getting the nation out of debt please, instead of wasting our time on silly nothingness, thank you very much.


Yes, I sometimes wonder whatever happened to Candace Bennett who lived down the hall at SCC during my first year. She did not stay beyond the first year I think. I do not remember much about her. I see from the alumni directory that she lives in Rimforest, a town high in the San Bernardino mountains of California. I would not be able to comment on anything regarding Candy because, well, I do not remember anything, and anyway, it could get confusing because her roommate was Candy Higgins who was originally from San Diego I think, maybe. There were three of us with the same first name, sort of, on the seventh floor so I am not sure what your point might be as you never did have your facts right from the very beginning and, anyway, you filthy dogs of Chicago, it was never any of your business anyway.


Yes, it is vaguely interesting how it is the Spanish language magazines that are full of photos of the royalties in all their splendor. I remember during high school leafing through the magazines in the waiting room of the dentist office, seeing the latest news in the saga of the Grimaldis, those most decadent and disgusting people whose claim to power is obviously not based on their own bad behavior. No, just being  a good person does not mean that Santa Claus will show up with diamonds and jewels for you. Those rich people, I would not want their problems. They have a lot of problems. But if royalties are want these rich people want, it begs the question of why they would settle in the United States. Why not move permanently to Denmark where there is already a king and queen in place to rule over you? We do not have that stuff here. Could it be that you imagine that you yourself should be the royalties? How pretentious and arrogant of you to suggest such a thing! How dare you place yourself in the seat of power that does not belong to you! You are not the president, obviously. Here in the democracy you are just one vote among millions.


Yes, so far I have not had any reason to mention the Brizuela Bitches, those two nasty sisters who strutted the halls of high school as if they were the rulers of the future world and myself nothing but the maid. Ok so I exaggerate as do they. Mattie's locker also was near mine as if that mattered. They always treated me like garbage so it not really surprising that their wicked brother also esconced in his marble palace in Miami also has some distorted idea of what high school was like for me. So I never had a chance to witness to his imperious, nasty witch sisters, obviously, or his wicked witch wife either for that matter. It is not like I did not have good intentions but the reality is that these people are not interested in being friends with me. They only want to conquer and rule. That is the only thing the care about and that agenda does not mix well with the missionary mindset, sad to say.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Indian Natives

In my very recent research ramblings I have learned of the existence of the Caddo Nation. This is a meshing of several native American tribal groups who once inhabited what is now East Texas and other parts of the central United States such as Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Most of those peoples were removed to Oklahoma where their languages are blended together, sort of. Anyway, the word Texas or Tejas is loosely based on a Caddo word meaning friendship. The word Caddo itself is the native American term for the "real chief" or the "real Caddo." So, anyway, isn't it funny that this word "Caddo" also sounds vaguely like the surname of my ninth grade classmate, "Catto," but only if you have a lisp or some other speech impediment? Obviously, Mr. Catto is not really the big "chief." He is only the hired hand, the self-described "Ambassador At Sea," a very appropriate title for this autobiography because it accurately describes how this ambassador works very closely, hand in hand, with the wealthy people who have all the money stashed away in the offshore banks, not having much to do with or having the slightest thought or care for the common folk, the lower class poverty stricken populace of more native American genealogical extraction who will never have a chance to rise from the ranks, the bottom feeders of society, the catfish scavenging at the bottom of the stream for any leftover scrap that might be found, not that I would know anything about this, never having heard this word until recently. So the rich people of the country belong to a different world than the poor people but we always knew that. The Bible says: "The poor you have with you always." There always will be poor people who can't get out of the slums and ghettos. There always will be these Rich Bitch Republican trash (or was she a Democrat, like I would even know exactly who you are talking about) who can never get any respect even though they try so hard, not that we wanted it to be that way but it was their choice. It was not like they would ever let us tell them what to do, or rather what not to do. So typical of these Brash Trash Rich People to dump their garbage on poor people like me, as if I could afford to pick up the tab for all their libel and slander when I do not even know what they are talking about.

Sunday, July 3, 2011


Yes, it is sort of strange that I would get some bizarre messages from the people of San Bernardino of whom I remember almost nothing. Sherri Turnbull, for example, is a dim blur in mind, some silly junior high conversation about boys and dating rules, nothing that I can remember clearly, as if Sherri had anything to be so high and mighty about. And all those other people, Jack, etc. It kind of hurts for them to be attacking me in this way when I did nothing to them and I cannot think of any reason to attack them except in self-defense because they are attacked me first, not because I ever think about them very much actually, sorry to say that. They might have been my parents' supporters but they could not care less about me. In all the time I was at SCC it was like I did not exist to them. They would prefer the accomplished pianists such as Lynda, perhaps, so fine, I cannot compete with that so I am totally baffled at why I should care about them anymore. They have their Lynda and so they do not need me for anything, obviously.

And Who Is Calling Who A Thief?

Yes, and who is calling who a thief anyway? From the very beginning Pastor always hoped and prayed that I would not pay my tithes and prove myself unworthy so that therefore Pastor would feel himself under no obligation to be nice to me in any way and would not feel the slightest tinge of guilt in praying for my future despair and heartache and that I would be in future divested of any potential future inheritance, and that all favor and influence would be afforded instead to the rich people who have their the sights of their double-barreled guns aimed directly at my backside. Yes, I felt the sneering contempt of certain people and it is still there sort of, not that I could exactly say exactly what I mean when I say this. Come to think of it, everyone is already set on this course of action so there would be no reason for me to protest if my mother wants to sign it all over to my sister like they want. At least I have no children to inherit this curse so it is not going to be a problem for future generations.

Saturday, July 2, 2011


Yes, that was rather disappointing. The seed that Mr. Schaeffer gave me was only a weed. It was for 10th grade biology class. I cannot speak for the other students' seeds but mine was only a weed. We were given a seed and a little potting soil thing in which it was to germinate and its emergence to be recorded daily on a log book to be turned in a few weeks later for a biology class project. So I did plant my seed and recorded it more or less although maybe not quite daily. Later, the gardener planted the little seedling out in the garden and it grew quite tall, maybe four feet tall, and began to multiply into a sort of thicket. However, there was no flower or fruit to be had. So eventually we had the gardener remove the weed from the garden because it did not fit in the garden. I never did find out exactly what it was. Mr. Schaeffer's little secret, as he said in the first place, so no reason to ask. Also no reason to imagine some other symbolic thing, such as the idea of me being a weed. How insulting! How dare you call me a weed, you noxious pestilence! So there.

Friday, July 1, 2011


Yes, I do wonder sometimes why I am being blackmailed by all these boring Luna people, as if I did anything to them. It was very nice of Myrlena to explain to me what those words meant when actually she did not have to do that. She could have just said to look it up in the dictionary. I am sorry that she was embarrassed but I would have been too if I had been called upon to explain the sewage continually flowing from the mouths of Thomas and Raymond. I myself probably would have directed people to the dictionary in that situation. Fortunately no one asked me so perhaps they are more familiar with the colloquial English than I was at the time at age 14 with the colloquial Spanish. I had never heard such words at church or among church people so had no idea of the meaning and was seeing nothing in the context of the classroom with which to associate that. At least I did ascertain the meaning and thus prevented myself from repeating the sounds like a parrot without knowing what it meant. It is important to make sure you know what these words mean to avoid misusing them. I fail to see what that minor incident has to do with money or anything else. If the Luna people are imagining that I have some offshore deposit with which to pay them off they are sadly mistaken. I have no money for them. It is not like I am a manager of a translation company. If I were a megacorporation like McDonald's and the design of my coffee cup had precipitated burns then perhaps the deep pockets of corporate America could accommodate this but as for me I fail to see why this matters. The choice of words was his, not hers, so it wasn't her fault, and the cultural norms of that era say that it is not his fault because such behavior was typical among that high school peer group, so basically no one is at fault as far as I can tell. It was sort of strange that I was promoted to honors science shortly after that by Mr. Freund. Obviously there was no connection to that incident. I don't think that I ever discussed that with anyone at school after that. It would be embarrassing to repeat that conversation so obviously there was nothing else to say about it. I could apologize to Myrlena but she died so there is nothing else to say about that.