When it comes to this farce of a penalty phase retrial, a day off is not necessarily a bad thing – planet earth
Hai everybody. Welcome to a Really Big Mean Dog update blog, plus we have some new entries to the Big Book of Words. YAY!!
I find it highly amusing that it always seems to be the “experts” and the lawyers and those more Einstein-y than us that come up with all these new and awesome words.
For those of you that may have missed my blog last night, Charles Manson has applied for a marriage license. I read something about this months ago but of course Charlie being a complete nut bag denied the whole thing saying it was just another groupie and alluding to the fact that he was just using her for whatever she could put in his commissary. The woman goes by Star and she is a couple of fries short of a happy meal. Rolling Stone did an article in 2013 which I read and kept a copy of. You can see it here. http://www.rollingstone.com/culture/news/charles-manson-today-the-final-confessions-of-a-psychopath-20131121 It is an interesting read and I recommend it if you are interested in Manson at all, or in the very special type of fruit loop that he continues to draw in.
We had quite the lively discussion going in the comments about the whole pedophile thing and how sickening it is that the Alexander family is being put through all of this yet again. I stated my opinion in last nights blog, but that begs another question or 14. Even if (and I want to emphatically stress that I do not in any way whatsoever believe that Travis had any sexual proclivities towards children) this was the case that he fantasized about young girls, does a fantasy, even one that is that sick warrant death if it is a fantasy? I will tell you all a secret about me. I used to fantasize almost daily about killing my ex. How I would do it, how I would try and cover it up, what weapons I would use, the fact that the first thing I would do was stab him directly in the junk and then shove a heated curling iron up his ass, whether or not I could feed him to the dogs. It got pretty intense. All of those things were illegal, but they were just fantasies. Should I have been thrown in prison for thinking those things? Should I have been killed because of them? You cannot be put on trial for crimes that you might commit. While we are on the subject of being put on trial; the trial is over and Stabby was convicted of first degree aggravated murder. This is supposed to just be the penalty phase retrial so why is Alfred E being allowed to deliver his case in chief all over again? Why has nobody put a stop to this? This is supposed to be about mitigation only. Not that there is any, but why is this being allowed to continue.
Ross drove me to my test today again and I was saying that I wished there was a way I could pay him back for all the kindness. He reminded me of something. When I first bought this place, maybe my third year here, fall was setting in, Ross had a bunch of things that needed to be done and he broke a hip falling off of a tractor. He has sons but they work far away and it was hard for them to get down unless it was the weekend. Ross would not hear of a little tiny girl coming to do the stuff that needed done, so one night I had this idea. I would sneak down to his farm after 11pm and I would put up hay, or pile wood, stuff like that every night for a week before he caught me out. I wasn’t scared down there. I love Ross’ farm. The barn is warm, he’s got good equipment and there was no way I was going to leave an old man hanging with none of the stuff that absolutely had to be done undone because he had an unfortunate accident. I had just finished putting around 200 bails of hay into the loft and when I dropped down there he was on a pair of crutches with his wife beside him holding hot cider and cookies. She had tears running down her face. Ross looked stern, like he was mad at me for a minute, but then he stepped forward and just shook my hand. I smiled and took a cookie and around a mouthful of it I said “see, I told you I was a farm girl born and bred.” He laughed and apologized for doubting me because of my gender and size and told me he would never forget it. He healed up and got the rest of his stuff done before winter set in but he said he would have never done it without me. I shook it off then. That is just how we do around here Ross I said to him and he nodded agreeably. So today when I said I didn’t know how I could pay him back he said he figured he still owed me a full hay mow and enough wood stacked to get through the winter. Brought tears to my eyes he did. It means that nobody owes anybody anything. We are neighbors and we just do for each other because that is how we roll out here.
The dogs are doing great. Even Bruno, the most damaged dog possibly on the planet because of the asshole that almost killed me is turning into a different dog. I still would not consider him safe around people, but he is now safe around the other dogs and today he even played with peanut. Little tiny peanut who he could crush like a walnut with one bite was played with so gently that I was moved by it. The only thing that Bruno loves or trusts is me and I guess he has decided that if I love the little mop dog than he can safely love her too. I can still hear the vet telling me that he was so mentally unstable he needed to be put down and me getting downright angry and explaining the things that had been done to Bruno and that it was not his fault that he was the way he was and there was no way I would ever do that to him. He told me that if he ever got loose someone would be killed, so I told him that I would be extra careful. Bruno has gotten loose. As long as he doesn’t feel that I am being threatened or that there are strangers on his property, he couldn’t care less about other people. They don’t exist to him. Today he laid down on the floor and let peanut maul at him and his little stumpy tail never stopped going sixty miles an hour. He was said when peanut got bored. He and Mya and Happy and Panzer are all one big happy pack. The other dogs do not challenge him for the alpha spot, and even if they did he would use his size to drive them down and make them submit before he ever used his teeth. That dog has come a million miles. If he can do it, so can I.
Taco spent most of the time the dogs were playing walking across my keyboard, which is his favorite thing to do. I don’t know if it is the clicks that amuse him or the way the buttons sink and come back up, but that guinea pig would spend the entire day running back and forth across the keys if I would let him. He makes happy little chirpy noises and does it for hours. Back and forth and back and forth. It is hilarious to watch, and more hilarious to watch kitty friend watching Taco play on the keyboard. Kitty friend and Taco seem to have an agreement of some kind because they also have nothing but love for one another. They will sometimes cuddle up together and go to sleep.
Our resident expert on the stand for stabbykins Dr. Sexpert has been kind enough to give us a couple of offerings for the big book of words. Apparently I was mistaken and Jizz is not just jizz. It is jizzle. JIZZLE. Seriously. The expert on sexual kink also had no idea what a fuck buddy is, so to help her out I am adding that to the book of words. And just so you all know, anybody that texts after 11pm is totally a perv so stop it all you pervs out there. Just stop.
Finally, I wanted to thank you all for your words and thoughts of support while I deal with whatever is going on with my heart. It is such a wonderful feeling to know that so many people care about what happens to me. From someone who spent their entire life with nobody, it is an awfully comforting feeling. And to those of you who have donated to the blog a HUGE thank you. Thank you for appreciating the time and effort and research that I put into my writings.
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