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The Enemy Of My Enemy Is My Friend

December 14, 2017

Hello my lovelies.  It is I, your dean of fuckery, doctor of doctoring, honorary DVM, Pretend Judge, Writer of briefs that should make any jurist green with envy, Horse Therapist, Horse Whisperer, Dog Lactation Consultant, Midwife, Resident sarcasm expert and of course Queen of all I survey.

 

All that has dominated my feed on facebook for two days now is that kid that got bullied, Keaton.  Now, your queen is not a heartless beast (spoiler alert, I’m not heartless, there is a rock of some sort in there I am pretty positive) but I take extreme umbrage with the amount of news space this kid has taken up.  Buy why your majesty you may be asking yourselves right now.  I’m going to tell ya, keep your knickers on, jeez.  Before we get to that part, I’d like you to raise your hand if A) you have ever been bullied and/or B)you’ve ever been a bully.  I fall into both categories and I am not ashamed to admit that.  People make mistakes, jump to conclusions and do stupid shit because at the time it seemed funny.  Case in point my treatment of Sandra Weber, who I came to find out once I was done ripping her to shreds is a decent, caring, warm and very, very funny person.  She just got caught up in the whole stabby mess and she became what I became, a bully.  My good friend now Joe would be another prime example.  But we are grown ups and we have thick skins and eventually we came to our senses and realized we were acting like a bunch of middle schoolers.  Now middle school and high school are a terrible time for a lot of kids.  Any little difference that sets you apart from the herd and you are a target.  And I was a target.  My high school days turned into one never ending nightmare of torture that I thought would never, ever end.  I was smarter than anyone else and I was also poorer than everyone else.  Probably the poorest kid in high school since mommy and daddy were busy drinking and smashing their way through every cent that came into the house.

I wore the Sally Anne specials and the dirty Dan the discount man shoes.  It was a place where you got those hightop black runners with the big white rubber circle on the side for like a dollar fifty or something.  I was the only kid in a very large high school that I ever saw with a pair.  Unfortunately I had a class, French actually where one of the articles of clothing that had been purchased from the salvation army had belonged to one of the richest girls in the class and she took great pleasure in announcing to the entire class that I was wearing her clothes.  It kind of went downhill from there.  She and her rich little fanbase tormented me daily.  Of course word got around the school and I was known as hand me down Kelly,  second hand Kelly and my favorite, broke assed Kelly.  The fact that scholastically I was running laps around these people did not help me even a little bit.   Her name was Rena and I will never forget her.  She started to do more things to me to get more attention from the mean girl battalion.  She hit me with a blackboard eraser and I walked around with chalk dust on my second hand clothes for the day once, and then the day came that she poked me with one of those blackboard sticks with the metal  point on the end and I put her out a second story window.  Don’t worry it was opened.  I broke her arm which was unfortunate because I was aiming for her head.   There was a big huge thing and my father for once in his life acted like a father and came down to defend me as they were drawing up my expulsion papers and waiting for the police.  He was drunk off his ass which made his very thick Scots accent almost impossible to understand, but he got the point across when he mentioned the months of torment I had suffered at the hands of these girls, that Rena was the ring leader and that he was going to the school board and once he was done there he was going to the newspaper and with any luck it would get picked up by AP.  His tactics worked because I did not get arrested or expelled, I got an apology from the school and Rena got warned to stay away from me.  It was good advice because I had had quite enough thank you very much.

I finished high school and with it put all that bullshit behind me.  It’s not forever.  I know personally how awful it is at the time, but it is not forever.

Now to Keaton.  I believe that Keaton’s pain is absolutely real.  I felt like that way too many days to not believe it to be completely genuine.  My problems with the whole thing  are many and glaring if you can get past the visceral reaction to that boy sobbing his heart out.  Why, if mom was just picking him up because he didn’t want to eat lunch in the cafeteria did she  have a video camera?  Why was she so obviously asking him leading questions during the recording of the video?  Why did she sound so rehearsed and not completely outraged as any parent would have been?  Why did Keaton sound like he’d been coached on a couple of points, specifically why do they do it and it gets better, while he is sobbing his heart out which tells me he obviously does not believe it gets better.  Why is he looking at his mother like that?  pay attention to the video.  Turn off the sound and just watch the body language of this kid.

So suddenly Keaton is the cause celeb of the day which I believe is EXACTLY what mama wanted.  Mama is southern, very southern in a rebel flag, I don’t like black people southern kind of way.  She has now scrubbed her social media accounts but it was all there.  No offense to southerners who are human.  The wave of support for this child was immediate and exactly what is wrong with social media and why I think it will be the death of humanity as we know it.

Suddenly Keaton is invited to LA for an avengers screening, invited to hang out with NFL players, being tweeted by a list of celebrities that is longer than my arm, money, gifts, offers of dates and everyone wanted to be his friend.  And then there was the go fund me.  This was started by someone not related to the family and was for Keaton’s college or University except Keaton’s mom would have control of it because he is too young.  Now, this guy says he doesn’t know the family and just felt bad for the kid.  And this could be true.  My gut tells me it isn’t but I suppose in some bizzaro land it could be.

This whole thing once she found out Keaton was being bullied was orchestrated by Keaton’s good old card carrying racist mama.  I would bet she knows well the person who set up the go fund me (it has been put on hold and depending on what news source you rely on, either by go fund me or by the guy that set it up) and many of the offers have been withdrawn which kind of makes he people making the offers to begin with look like dicks.

Keaton is definitely a bullied kid.  And a celebrity tweeting hang in there, it gets better, something like that is totally appropriate.  Offers of movie premieres and things like that is totally not.  Why not?  Because hundreds, hell thousands of kids get bullied every single day at school or home or the playground or wherever. Where are their invites to premieres and parties and shit?  Two little girls committed suicide due to bullying just prior to this video coming out and nobody gave a rats ass about it because their parents were too worried about their children to pull out a video camera and get their terrible sadness on film.

And of course the mob moved in.  Keaton is a racist, Keaton got bullied because he called a kid the N word (that has been totally debunked, it never happened but it sure makes good copy doesn’t it)  This kid did not ask to be born into a racist household and just being in one doesn’t make you one.  If that were the case I’d be an alcoholic heroin addict.

The problem here is that the mother, in my opinion cared very little about how much emotional pain her child was in and way more about the amount of money to be made off of an emotionally at the end of his rope little boy.

The internet needs to stop and think.  Stop, actually pay attention to what you are seeing and then think.  Think hard because I called this literally a full day before the shit storm started.  And again, what about the two children who are dead because of being bullied.  No movie premiers or college funds for them.  Can anybody even name them?

The people that donated to this go fund me were not stupid, they were kind, caring people who wanted to try and ease this kids pain.  They just didn’t think about what they were really seeing.  And that is what will make it so much harder for the next bullied kid that has the balls to talk about it.

RBMD peacing he fuck out.

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WHAT THE FUCK IS IT GOING TO TAKE TO MAKE PEOPLE SEE? HOW MANY HAVE TO DIE BEFORE THIS AMMENDMENT BULLSHIT STOPS BEING A THING?

November 14, 2017

Hello my poor darling lovelies.  It is I, your very sad and tired Queen of all I survey, resident sarcasm expert, law professor, doctor of doctoring, honorary DVM, pretend Judge, hater of DCFS and CAS (that one is the Canadian version) anti-animal cruelty proponent, horse whisperer, and dog lactation consultant and purveyor of the run on sentence,  here today, sadly to talk to you about your gun problem.  Yes, I said your gun problem, because even if you want to stick your head in the sand and drag out your right bear arms and whatever other fuckery you have, you all have a gun problem.  Or maybe it’s a violence problem.

 

The news that there has been another mass shooting in the good old gun toting US of A is getting so profoundly regular that it is to the point where people in Canada are now saying “and?”  The conspiracy theorists are saying it is an attempt by Trump to get the heat off of what is going on in the Government right now to which I say, and you can quote me “fuck you, you sick motherfuckers.” Even Donald Trump, whom I despise as both the president and as a human being (term human being used very loosely here) would not orchestrate the killing of children doing nothing more sinister than going to school.  That is just asshole bullshit and it needs to be shutdown before people start to believe it.  I have a suggestion.  Get out of gramma’s basement for an hour, take a walk, buy some more tinfoil, maybe see a therapist, get a puppy, whatever, but saying things like that on a platform that is capable of reaching the entire world is irresponsible, incendiary and cruel.  Say whatever you want about the President, I do, but do not accuse him of having children killed to get the heat off of himself.

461 people have been killed just in mass shootings in your country so far this year.  That is just the dead ones.  Wounded, scared for life etc have not been counted because yay for them, they get to live with the memory of that for the rest of their lives.  They get to play woulda, coulda, shoulda, for the remainder of their days however many they individually get to have.  It’s a real fun game.  Why did I beg my parent to take me to a concert that they didn’t even want to go to, why did I send my baby to school today, I had a day off we could have just hung out for the day, why did I choose today to take my child to the mall when they didn’t even want to go.  What was I thinking?  What was I thinking?  What in the fuck was I thinking?

So, we have five confirmed dead, one of them the shooter, at least two confirmed injured children, injured adults and the cherry on top of this shit Sundae is the now deceased piece of shit had had several calls placed to the police about his increasingly erratic behaviour and the amount of bullets that he had been firing off for target practice.  According to one source who wished to remain anonymous, “there should have been some sort of vetting process by law enforcement once one complaint was filed never mind several, as to whether or not this individual should have weapons.”  Geez, ya think?

Several people outside of the school said they heard at least a hundred rounds go off.  That was not just one person saying that, that was multiple people saying at least a hundred rounds, and well over a hundred rounds, and if I had to guess I’d say way over a hundred rounds.  So I’m going to go out on a limb and say that there were probably over a hundred rounds discharged.  A woman outside of the school said she saw a boy shot first in the foot and then the chest.

The shooting started out as a domestic violence incident and then fuckface went full Rambo and lost his shit.  He shot a woman and child in a vehicle and then made his way to the school.  He shot through the school windows and it is still unclear whether or not he actually entered the building.

It gets better.  There are at least 5 different crime scenes for the police to wade through.  A thing that would not have been necessary if they had just checked on this cocksuckers viability as a gun owner before hand.  Oh wait.  They are trying to make it EASIER for the mentally unbalanced to obtain guns now right?  Must be another of those brilliant ideas that we peons are all too stupid to understand, but which makes perfect sense to the people trying to push it through.

I have said it before, I will say it again, probably a hundred million times but I am still going to say it.  The only people in the world that require automatic weapons are military and police.  Other than that, automatic weapons should not be available to anyone at anytime for any reason and you can stuff your right to bear arms right up your ass.  Bear all the arms you want.  Handguns?  Go nuts.  Shotguns? Fill ur boots.  Rifles?  Pick your rifle and go sustenance hunt.  Automatic weapon?  WHAT THE FUCK FOR?  Unless you are fully expecting to be attacked by a herd of Bull African Elephants, then NO.  Just no.

Do you know why people in your country are basically allowed to purchase whatever weapons they want whenever they want?  Because the NRA owns congress.  Can I prove that?  Nope, but I am working on it.  You all know it’s true thought right?  They have way too much sway with congress for anyone with a functioning frontal lobe to be comfortable.  Now those that are certifiably mentally unstable should be allowed to own weapons that kill people.  Well, all weapons kill people.  You can kill someone with a tin can lid if you are dedicated enough to the cause I suppose.  A pen.  Yup you can kill someone with a pen.  Potato?  Absolutely if you have a bit of ingenuity.  There is not much that cannot be used as a weapon and most of them can kill people.  The difference is that, there is a lot lower probability of mass casualties with a tin can lid or a lead pipe or even a fucking revolver.  An automatic weapon can kill people until you either get bored, get shot, the gun jams or you straight up just run out of ammo.  You don’t even have to be a good shot.  Just hold the trigger and wave the thing back and forth.  You are going to injure and kill a lot of people.  If you happen to be dedicated to what you are about to do you can kill everything in your path.

Now, I am not an anti gun zealot.  I am a get rid of stupid laws zealot and your gun laws are straight up insane.  They left retarded and went straight to potato when the mentally ill got dragged into those that should be allowed to have guns.

Tell me, without dragging out the 2nd amendment, what would be wrong with all applicants  undergoing a screening process, which includes a safety course, criminal history and background checks, provision of personal references, and a mandatory waiting period.We are taking automatic weapons right off of the table.  What is the big deal about that.

In 2012 there were a total of 8813 homicides by gun in the United States.  In the same year there were 172 gun related homicides in Canada.  Those are real, verifiable numbers.  Your country makes up roughly 4.4 percent of the global population but you own 42 percent of the guns in the world.  THE WORLD.

From January 1 2017 to today there have been a total of 10007 murders by gun.  That number does not include accidental shootings or things of that nature.  So are you guys trying to have gun violence added as an Olympic event or something?  Or are you on a secret mission of population control at 50 or 60 at a time?  You all know about birth control right?  It is a lot less messy.

Okay, all morbid joking aside, for those of you that are sane, please start doing something, anything.  Write to your congressmen/women, go to rallies…or maybe don’t that would be a good place to get shot, but do something.  The amount of fuckery involved in the gun lobby is like nothing I have ever seen and that isn’t even taking Ted Nugent into account.  You all should have him removed to an island somewhere by the way, just sayin.

And just for you of the guns don’t kill people, people kill people.  PEOPLE WITH GUNS KILL PEOPLE.  FUCK IT ISN’T THAT HARD.

 

RBMD peacing the fuck out

 

 


Honey Made A Friend

November 11, 2017

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hello my lovelies.  Your Queen of all I survey is at a bit a crossroads at the no kill shelter.  I still very much want too and have the inclination too write about the ridiculousness of the justice system, there is just nothing peeking my interest at the moment and yet I still feel compelled to write.  So, since really the only thing I do is be depressed or go to horse therapy, I’m going to write about that for a bit.  I hope you don’t find it boring and also that maybe for some of you that don’t really know horses you learn some stuff.

I am still dealing with the loss of Charlie.  That sucks if you are a person, to lose an animal that had come so far back to this side of the land of  maybe things will turn out okay.  It sucks way worse if the dead horse was another horses only friend

Charlie had a best horse friend.  Her name is honey. Honey is another horse that the owner of the farm took pity on and just decided to buy so she wouldn’t be meat.  He bought a spectacular Shining Spark Stallion that day and was getting ready to leave when Honey came up on the chopping block.  Meat horses do not go for large amounts of money.  Usually it works out to about 10 cents a pound.  Honey was a wreck, just like Charlie, only for different reasons.  Honey had caught strangles and whoever had owned her had gone to all the trouble and expense of saving her which is no joke and costs thousands which made me not understand why on earth she would end up at a meat auction in the middle of the United States.  Strangles untreated will kill a horse as fast as can be and it is a horrible death.  It is just exactly what it sounds like.  Whoever owned her had gone as far as to have a tracheotomy performed in order to save her life.  Neither the owner, nor myself understood what had happened between then and the auction.  My best guess is that she was stolen.  That apparently is a huge problem due to the market for horsemeat in other countries.

So, he bought the shining spark Stallion and was ecstatic about his purchase,  He cost a lot, like more than 20000 dollars, and he had gotten a deal at that amount of money.  he was just standing up when Honey came in.  She was skinny to the point where it was hard for her to stand on her own and she was frightened at all the noise and a ring full of people she didn’t know and the owner swears he could tell she had just completely given up.  She had gone form somewhere and someone that loved her to this and it broke his heart a little.  This man has a huge heart and I wish more people were like him about animals.  It speaks volumes about a person how they treat animals.  After spending over 20000 on his stallion he ended up buying Honey for 74.50  He told the barn manager that they could use her for a brood mare or something.

So after a vet check to make sure she had nothing communicable they got their paperwork to get her across the border and brought her to the farm.  She was quite a site that mare.  Nothing but skin hanging off of bone.  I’d got Charlie tamed down by then and she was with the other pregnant horses so he brought me this one and asked if I’d see if there was anything I could do for her.  There was lots I could do for Honey.  All she needed was a lot of food and the love I give to all the horses on the farm.  She was a palomino mare (on of those yellow colored ones with the white mane and tale).  She was shy, mostly because she had no idea what in the name of fuck had just happened, but honey didn’t have a mean bone in her body.  About the only thing on earth she wanted was to be loved like somebody used to love her and I was happy to do that for her.  I slowly got her weight up, starting with grass hay because second cut which is very high in protein would have made her sick and very little grain for the same reason.  I increased it slowly over time and she started to take weight.  She was sad though and that was a much harder fix.  I put her in with the brood mares once she was at a decent weight and they all rejected her.  They picked on her, they kicked at her, they drove her off the food and basically made her live miserable.  Horses have a definitive pecking order and Honey had victim written all over her and they all took advantage of it.  She refused to fight back.  Not once she kick back, or try and bite or even pin her ears in anger.  She just took it. I talked to the farm owner about it and asked if he thought it would be okay if I put her with Charlie.  He had his doubts, but I didn’t.  I knew Charlie well by then and she knew what it was like to be tormented.

Charlie and Honey bonded instantly.  It was immediate and it was strong.  Then I put Charlie and Honey back in with the rest of the brood mares and boy things changed fast.  The first mare that went after Honey was thoroughly trounced by Charlie just to let the who herd know that the days of picking on Honey were over.  She would stand over Honey and make sure she got her fill of hay and grain even before she’d take it herself.  The herd now accepted Honey because they did not have another option.  Charlie wasn’t playing around when it came to Honey.  If a horse messed with her they were in big trouble.  When Charlie got sick, I had to bring Honey up too, because they would not leave each other.  Honey had a complete and total meltdown when I tried to lead Charlie away.  I brought her because I thought it would help Charlie and because I was afraid that Honey would try and go through the fence to get to her friend.

And then Charlie died.  Honey changed in that moment.  Every ounce of joy she had managed to regain left her the second Charlie did.  And she has been despondent ever since.  She has been in the main barn since Charlie because she foundered and also because we knew the herd would turn on her now that Charlie was gone.

I had another idea.  My farm owner didn’t like it, but was willing to try for Honey and because so far I was batting a thousand with the idea’s.  I suggested we put her with my mare Scout.  Now Scout is not a fan of other horses.  She is the most unherdlike herd animal I have ever seen.  She likes her solitude.  Unless you are a cow in which case you are tolerable and she will be your friend.  I knew Scout wouldn’t hurt her, my worst worry was that she would totally ignore her.  Seems my horse Scout has as big a heart as Charlie did.

Scout spent a little bit convincing Honey she wasn’t going to hurt her, and once that was established, she proceeded to begin to stroke Honey on the back the way horses do to comfort each other.  It is like a light bite, not to hurt it actually makes the horse on the receiving end feel accepted and comforted.  By the end of the day Scout and Honey were best friends, a thing I would have never believed had I not seen it with my own eyes.  My horse just does not like horses. Period.  She just seemed to know that Honey needed somebody, anybody to be her friend while she mourned Charlie.  Scout made it so that she did not have to grieve alone.  She led Honey around the paddock, slowly because Honey is still foundered and her feet hurt her quite badly.  She led her around and showed her where the best graze was, she introduced her to her cow friends who truthfully could not possibly have cared less about the new horse.  She showed her where the water was, and she kept up a pretty constant horse conversation which Honey responded too.

Then night came and we had a problem.  Scout is completely barn sour.  She completely loathes being inside the barn.  She kicks at the walls and screams her anger at everyone and does other stupid things like refuse to eat until you put her back outside and Honey was still not well enough to stay outside all night.  If there were coyotes or anything Honey would be unable to run away or defend herself.  So we decided that Scout would stay out with her cows and Honey would come in for the night.  And Honey ATE.  Like she hadn’t seen food in months she ate.  She nickered, she didn’t pace and most importantly, she didn’t look sad.  He head was not down so low her muzzle was dragging the shavings.  She called out to Scout periodically  and Scout heard her and called back just to let her know she was there every time.  Honey had her first decent night since Charlie passed away.  So, we are going to move Scout up with the brood mares along with Honey once she is well enough to be up there and hopefully that should solve that because while Scout is no more mean than Charlie was, and Charlie was not a mean horse,  I have a feeling she will not take any shit on behalf of Honey.

 

RBMD peacing the fuck out.


Charlie, I’m Sorry

October 29, 2017

I cannot carry on with what those fucks did to that poor baby.  I’ve tried.  I have nine, yes nine different drafts of things I was going to say but fuck it.  My blog, my perogative and I guess I really just can’t when it comes to kids.  Sorry.  Lets just get to the point succinctly.

The boy is dead.  He suffered unbelievable pain and degradation before he died and all of you thank whatever god you believe in that he was finally and mercifully released from the hell that was his life.

I hope the pieces of shit that did it get the death penalty and I hope they somehow fuck the drugs up and they feel immeasurable amounts of pain before they die a thousand years from now because the justice system is a piece of shit.  It’s all we’ve got, on both sides of the border, but it’s a piece of shit.

Instead, I’m going to tell you something personal that happened over the last couple of days.  I don’t want sympathy, I want you to understand why my psychiatrist hooked me up with therapy horses and why sometimes even the best intentions are not enough. Not by a long shot.

A7221 came in the second day I was at the farm.  I remember  because I was giving a sorrel mare a beauty treatment at the time and was told to put her away and clear the aisle for this mare coming in.  And boy did she come.  That girl had murder on her mind and she didn’t care who it was. She had come in, in foal.  Newly in foal but in foal.  Now, the owner of the farm is a good man.  A genuinely good man.  He has human faults like every other person, but he absolutely hates to see an animal in distress.  In the day I had been there he had seen me calm a very freaked out horse and asked if I thought I could handle A7221.  With all he confidence I could muster, because being that the farm owner is a man I was afraid of him, I said sure.  He gets that I can’t be around people, he has never been weird about it, he always makes sure I have an out somewhere and that he is never to close to me and he just gets it.  He also gets that I am some weird fucking horse empath or something.

Well, the very first order of business once I got her into a stall was a name because I am not calling a horse by a number like it is in Auschwitz, and after watching her for a bit I called her Charlie Brown.  Charlie brown because she had obviously had the football pulled out from under her one to many times.

Charlie had been bred and born to be a show horse.  Unfortunately she did not have the look and she had long cannon bones and a popcorn lip.  None of these things are good if you are looking for a show horse.  I have no idea what went on in Charlie’s life up to the point she showed up at the farm.  I can tell you that she was so afraid for her head that she would get violent if you tried to touch it.  That tells me she was hit about the face, a lot.   Her skin would actually walk across her back if you managed to touch her without getting swung on in those first couple of days which tells me she got hit about the body a lot.  the scars on her flanks told me she’d been spurred into submission when being ridden as did the scars at the corners of her mouth.  The farm owner picked her up in the states at a meat auction because she was pregnant and he just could not bear it because that is who he is and luckily he can afford the largess of being that guy.

Now, I can come and go as I please but once “Charlie showed up I found myself spending hours trying to get her to just take a piece of apple out of my hand.  The owners wife, who is another wonderful person commented on it, wondering out loud if she ever would trust me enough to do it.  I had my doubts.  I’d just hang in her stall for the first while, far away from her and talk.   I told her I got it, that I knew what it was like to be that afraid, that sometimes the only thing you could do was fight, but that she didn’t have to fight with me because I wouldn’t hurt her and if she’d let me I’d protect her and the little life growing in her.

I told her about my life, told her about you guys and the no kill shelter and how you had helped me come back to myself at least a little and that everybody needs a friend.  Maybe not a lot of friends, but just one that you could count on no matter what.  I told her about my dogs and my kid and that there were lots of other horses she could hang out with if she would just calm down a little.  I never faced her when I talked to her.  I made sure I could see her out of the corner of my eye just in case, but I never looked at her straight on.

So one morning I was telling her about my car being a piece of shit and acting up and I suddenly felt a muzzle on my hair and I thought fuck she’s gonna take a bite, but she didn’t.  She nuzzled my hair for a second and then she just stood there.  So I turned about an eighth of a turn and waited for her to bolt to the other side of the stall.  But she didn’t.

I fished the fresh piece of apple I brought every single day and put it out flat in my hand.  Charlie contemplated that apple for probably five minutes and then she looked into my eyes as she took it.  And ate it.  Her eyes were not bulging like they had been since she came, and she had he softest eyes.  and the saddest.  Like she was waiting for me to pull the football away.  I reached a hand out close to her neck, nowhere near her face and she let me pat her neck.

The next morning I went back.  I said good morning to all the horses and was greeted with the nickers of hello which is how they talk.  Charlie was way at the other end of the barn so it took me a minute to get there and she stood facing the rails for the first time since she’d come and she nickered at me.   This horse had not made a sound since the day she’d come into the barn and she had just said good morning.  I opened the door to her stall and instead of heading to the back corner with her back to me like she always did, she stuck her face into my sweatshirt to see if I had another apple.  Of course I had an apple and that day, she got to eat the whole fucking thing.

I went and grabbed some grooming supplies because she desperately needed to be groomed but it was with much trepidation because Charlie had been hit by things and I had no idea what those things may have been.  I let her see the brush and smell it and bite it and when I thought she was ready I but it on her side.  She flinched but she allowed it and I brushed her till she glistened.  I brushed her to sleep actually.  Now, Charlie was never going to win any beauty awards in the horse world but she was far from hideous.   A little muley in the face maybe but in a cute way.

I’d gotten her tamed down enough so that it was safe to move her to the pasture where the pregnant mares go and I did.  we had some geldings out and when they ran the fence to see the new horse she freaked a little and gave me a scar on my Achilles tendon I will have forever, but it was fear not maliciousness and I limped up the rest of the way to the paddock with my heal bleeding pretty good and when I got there I told her what a good girl she was and patted her neck which had become her favorite thing.

Charlie had to have needles sometimes and the first time I had to catch her to give her one, it took me an hour and seven minutes.  I had done something stupid and let her see the needle.  I might as well have shown her a harpoon.  She thought I’d let her down, I know it.  But I caught her eventually and calmed her down and she never even knew she got the needle.  After that it was cake.  She came when I called her and she always got her apple when we were done doing whatever.

There is a picture on one of the owners phones of Charlie with her head on my shoulder standing in the middle of an acre of paddock.

Charlie turned up sick Friday.  Colic.  Pretty much a death sentence but I tried.  I tried, I swear to god.  I walked Charlie for hours and then I walked her some more.  I never stopped talking to her,  I never stopped praising ever step she took.  And the whole time her belly got bigger, and bigger and I knew it was a torsion but I refused to let my brain process that information.  I told myself it was food colic and we could oil her and get stuff moving and she’d be fine.  And the vet did.  The farm owner was beside himself and said do whatever the vet could do to save her.  She stood for me while we tubed her and poured a gallon of oil down into her stomach, she stood for me while she was injected with pain killer, she stood for me resting her head on my shoulder so she wouldn’t lay down because she really wanted to lay down.  I was still walking at 830 Saturday night.  The owner spotted me and said he and his brother would take the night shift and if I wouldn’t mind coming to walk her early in the morning they would appreciate it.  I was there at 6:15 am.  Charlie died from a torsion soon after I left her.  There wasn’t anything I could have done or the vet could have done or god himself if he was a thing could have done, as soon as her gut twisted, Charlie was on borrowed time.  She hung on long enough so that I didn’t have to see her die and I believe that as much as I believe I am sitting here writing this blog.  She walked for me because I asked her too.  She hung on for me because I asked her too.  And she was still walking so that I could see her walking when I left so that I would leave and I didn’t have to watch her die.   I found her of course and I gently wrapped the chains that needed to be wrapped around her hocks so that we could get her out of where she was.  Someone else offered but I refused to let anyone else touch her.  I did it and made sure it was right so we could get her up into the bucket without banging her around to much because even though I was well aware she was quite dead, I didn’t want anyone to hurt her ever again.

I hope where ever Charlie is, there is a nice woman who looks like me that brings her apples everyday and tells her not to listen to the other horses if they say she is ugly because they are just jealous.  I hope she get brushed to sleep a lot and gets talked to all the time. I hope she follows that woman around a field and as often as not puts her head on the woman’s shoulder and that she nickers hello because she wants to be friends with people now.  I hope she gets told how awesome she is, because she was.  Awesome.  Broken, but awesome.  And I hope that fucking number is no longer on her beautiful haircoat.  She isn’t A7221 she is Charlie Brown and wherever she is, they better remember that.

 

ReallyBigMeanDog Peacing the fuck out

 

 


The Dreams In Which I’m Dying Are The Best I’ve Ever Had…

October 24, 2017

Welcome to Hell, Hardhats and safety shoes must be worn at all times. Entry is at own risk

My loyal subjects, your queen of all I survey, dean of all fuckery, pretend Judge, honorary DVM and dog lactation specialist made a promise I would do this, and do it I shall.  I am going to ask that you do not go looking for pictures of this battered child.  I know that there is probably not a single person here that would, but they are pictures that you cannot ever unsee, and I just don’t want that for you.

Opening statements in the Gabriel Fernandez was murdered trial began with the Lead prosecutor John Hatami explaining that not only are Pearl Sinthia Fernandez and Isauro Aguirre guilty as fuck of the torture and murder of Gabriel Fernandez he had the unfortunate task of going into intimate detail of what the fuck these monsters did to him. The couple was “conspiring together to deceive everyone in order to torture Gabriel to death,” he alleged.  the alleged reason (there is that fucking word again) that Gabriel had to die is that Aguirre believed the boy was gay.
Hatami said Gabriel moved in with his mother and Aguirre in 2012 after living with his grandparents. Hatami showed jurors a photo of Gabriel at 7 years old, while  he lived with his grandparents, describing him as a “happy and healthy” child.  gabriel happy
Then he showed jurors a photo of Gabriel lying in a hospital bed and said, “After eight months of living with the defendants …   Garbriel injuries this is what Gabriel looked like.  I implore you my loyal subjects, do not go looking for additional photo’s. Nobody needs to see them.  I wish I could unsee them.

The evidence will show he was beaten, burned, battered and bruised, the prosecutor continued. By all accounts pained to the point of having to stop for a moment here and there to collect himself, the experienced prosecutor lead the jury through the litany of things that happened to Gabriel. They beat him, bit him, burned him, BB gunned him (which I guess covers the B’s,) starved him, fed him cat litter, kept him bound and gagged and in a cubby hole called the box, made him eat his own feces, fed him rotten food and when he would vomit they made him eat the vomit,  made him go to school in girls clothes, and ultimately killed him. And because all of that wasn’t enough, they called 911 not in an attempt to help Gabriel, but in an attempt to exculpate themselves by telling them that Gabriel was a self mutilator and had done all of this stuff to himself.
John Hatami, who we shall just refer to as the Gabriel’s angel from now on was clearly outraged as he outlined his prima fascia case. As he should have been.  To his credit and the credit of the whole damn DA’s office he did manage to not simply leap across the table and throttle the fuck out of Isauro Aguirre. I do not believe even the judge himself would have intervened had that been a thing that happened.

He did his best to get his point across without sending the entire gallery running for the nearest therapist. It didn’t help much so horrific were the details of this child’s sad, short, painful existence. From the clips that I have been able to find, he spoke eloquently although he could not hide the absolute disgust and sadness that seemed to ooze from his pores.

The illustrious defense attorney for Aguirre, John Allen did not even dispute the beating and torture of Gabriel, his  only dispute that he never meant to kill the child. His only argument is that Aguirre did not intend to kill the child. Apparently he just intended to continue to beat and torture the boy for the rest of his life.  My fucking god how do these defense attorneys sleep at night.  I get that everyone is entitled to a defense, but are they, really?  How do you defend this?  HOW?

The thing that gave birth to him managed to get her trial severed and is also being charged with capital murder with special circumstances. Both have pled not guilty (because why not waste a whole lot of taxpayer money). Both have the death penalty on the table. As an aside, I am a proponent of the death penalty. I truly believe in an eye for an eye or a life for a life and the better science gets, the more of a proponent I become. There is a dead 8 year old boy here. They did it. They tortured this child for 8 months and then have the unmitigated gall to say oops, we only meant to torture, beat, starve, burn and humiliate him, not kill him. Fuck you, you sick cunts. Fuck you both in the ass with a pineapple. The 6 ft 2 270lb piece of human garbage admits he hit Gabriel in the head a minimum of 10 times, probably closer to 20 and hit him harder than he hit anyone else.

gabriel fernandez saddest eyesIn this picture you can see fading bruises around his eyes and his face, but it is the complete despair in those eyes that kills me a little each time I see this picture.  Hopelessness.  Utter hopelessness.

His siblings are now on the stand and I will be reporting that tomorrow I just cannot do it tonight.  I do not have it in me.

Here is the rendering of the injuries on Gabriel as recorded by the coroner.  The image belongs to eyewitness news and was used with permission.gabriel forensic copy of injuries

That is it for tonight my lovelies. Say a prayer that this poor child finally has peace if that is your thing, say another that both of these child murdering bastards get the death penalty they so richly deserve. Actually what they richly deserve is 8 months of exactly what they gave out, but we are supposed to be a civilized society. And don’t for a second forget that this child would still be alive were it not for DCFS. I don’t. Not for a second.

RBMD peacing the fuck out.


Flu/Plague/whatever, I has it. Will try and post sometime later tonight

October 23, 2017

Projectile vomiting is not conducive to writing a blog and the material ain’t helping gotta tell ya.  Will try and post later.  I have a half done rough draft so will try and polish it so you have some reading material.  Not promising anything tonight.  So sorry.


If The Day Ever Comes Where I Snap And ALLEGEDLY Open Fire On Some Child Murdering Piece Of Shit, It Will Be Because Of The Word Allegedly.

October 21, 2017

 

 

Hello my lovelies.  Because I am Queen of all I survey and because the ruling monarch must at times do things for the people that they may not at the time realize is in their best interest, I have jumped into the deep end and am carrying on with what I consider my sacred trust from Gord Downie and doing my best to shed light on a very broken system.

Before we get into this and totally not because I am trying to put it off even for a second if I can let’s discuss the word allegedly.

Allegedly is an adverb.  An adverb, just in case any of my favorite readers are still out there is a word that modifies or qualifies a verb, adjective, determiner, another adverb etc.  If you need further help I recommend remedial English around grade 1 edition.

Anyway, allegedly is an adverb used to convey that something has taken place, or is the case although it has not yet been proven.  As an example.  DCFS  is allegedly the most ungodly, useless, disgusting government body that has ever been brought into existence.  CPS or child protective services along with everything else in life went PC and was changed to DCFS to allegedly reflect a more family friendly and less child-centric identity.  So, we are all good with allegedly right?  Because it is going to come up a lot in this particular blog.

DCFS is a broken thing, and while I realize that this series of blogs is about Gabriel and what happened to him, it happened to him largely in part because of DCFS so we are going to have to talk about DCFS for a bit.

It started out as a good idea in my opinion.  An outside institution that was set up to help children.  Nothing wrong with that because a LOT of children need help.  The problem is that A) the government runs the thing  B) there is a LOT of money involved once a child is in the system, it is in DCFS best interest to keep the child in the system for as long as humanly possible because there is just a fuckton of state and federal cash to be had by having said children in the system.  A child in the system brings upwards of $250000 per kid.   C) the powers that this government body have are far to overreaching D) they lie.  Yes, I said it, they lie.  Often and unfortunately that blade cuts both ways.  Children that should not have anything to do with DCFS are yanked from stable loving homes and put into the system, and children like Gabriel have their injuries downplayed, or just not accounted for, they don’t follow up, they don’t do a lot of things.  E) Actual workers who do give a shit about the children they are trying to help are ridden over by their supervisors, told what they can and cannot say in reports, are often discounted as being hypersensitive and told that things that they saw they didn’t see *in context* F) You cannot be a political organization and do social work.  Those two things are diametrically opposed.

Melinda Murphy, a 20 year veteran of the DCFS has gone rogue and has a lot to say.  Read it.  http://healthimpactnews.com/2015/la-county-dcfs-whistleblower-reveals-how-parents-are-losing-their-children-to-a-corrupt-system/

With all that being said, what in the fuck happened with Gabriel Fernandez.

The Los Angeles times unearthed some documents that show that a minimum of six separate complaints of abuse, neglect and brutality were made to the LA department of DCFS.  Six.  Six times DCFS visited Gabriel at home and six times they left him there. .  She said he often appeared at school battered.  Her word. Battered.  Battered should be A  thing you do to chicken, not a small boy.

Gabriel only made it to the ripe old age of 8 because he was taken in by his grandparents shortly after his birth in 2005. Nor was he the first run in that Mother Theresa had with DCFS.  Her oldest son suffered a head injury because he was allegedly not wearing a seatbelt during a car accident.  The following year a relative reported she was beating the boy and had stated she didn’t want him.  This was deemed unfounded.

In 2007, social workers received a complaint that Pearl did not feed one of her daughters and threatened to break her jaw when she cried.
The following year, Pearl was convicted of using a weapon in Texas and was sentenced to two weeks behind bars, according to court records.
In October of that year, relatives said Pearl suddenly decided that she loved and wanted  Gabriel and two siblings and took them from her parents where they had by all accounts been leading a healthy happy stress free life.    Emily Carranza, Gabriel’s cousin, said “it was for the welfare money.” Pearl told social workers she was concerned about the treatment of her son by relatives… um excuse me for a second.  ckocxjvkhlkbjc,jknkmlmlkkbmlgdpfksdfghjmk.l.,mnbgtgyhgtuyjhges. (head off of keyboard, sorry)  SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK MOTHER OF GOD WHAT THE FUCK.  Social workers found that credible?  I actually don’t know but they must have since she got them.

Days later, not even a week, but days later DCFS received a call from relatives alleging she was physically abusing all the children.  This was SUBSTANTIATED.  Instead of immediately returning them to people that loved them she was allowed to keep them and enter counseling.

His teacher called in October stating the boy was bruised about the face and hands. The next month she called and told them he had a busted lip and scratches that the boy had attributed to mother of the year.

In January she called because Gabriel’s face was covered in bruised dots.  He stated his mother had shot him in the face repeatedly with a BB gun.

When being interviewed Gabriel recanted his stories of abuse.  Want to know why.  I knew as soon as I saw that statement and I bet you do too, but I am going to tell you all anyway.  They always interviewed Gabriel while he was seated right beside good old mommy of the year.  Of course he recanted.  What must he have thought would happen if he told them the truth.  How could he known they would remove him or if they would remove him or if mommy would just have to promise with a cherry on top to be a nicer person and take some class and then the real fun could begin.  In an internal memo that was never supposed to see the light of this or any other day, workers were criticised for not removing Gabriel to a safe neutral place away from Godzilla to be interviewed.

In March his therapist found a note stating that Gabriel wanted to kill himself.  I just can’t imagine why?  The complaint was dismissed because the kid forgot to make an actual plan on his piece of paper on how he was going to do it and it was therefore not considered a suicide risk.  CHRIST ON A CRACKER HOW THE FUCK IS THIS THING THAT IS SO IMPORTANT SO FUCKING BROKEN?  HOW?  That month his whatever the fuck you want to call her at this point because mother isn’t the correct word, decided to end contact with the social workers, stating she didn’t need their help.  AGAIN HOW IN THE FUCK IS THAT A THING THAT CAN HAPPEN?

On May 22 firefighters were called to Gabriel’s hell, I mean house where he was found unresponsive.  He died two days later.  His siblings obviously also living in terror said they heard something happen but would not elaborate on that statement at that time.

Garrett Therolf is a name you don’t know.  He is the reporter that worked tirelessly to unearth this unholy mess against DCFS.  See reporters have a tendency to care when such an egregious wrong has been done.  They also have the tenacity of a rabid pitbull with a particularly nice bone.  So Garrett Therolf, my hat is off to you, you are one of the unsung hero’s in the world and god help us all, we need more.

We are going into the trial tomorrow everybody.  Sorry.

RBMD peacing the fuck out.

Sorry Dianna I meant to put this in earlier and forgot.   Everyone if you get a chance please check out @LAGuineaPigResc  they are a fantastic organization that helps rescue guinea pigs and place them in good homes.  My piggy friend died recently and I would love to get another, they make great pets.  They are friendly, cuddly and smart as all get out.  If you live in the area please check them out.

 

 

 


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