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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.

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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.


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.

 

 

 


What Does This Say About Us As A Society?

October 20, 2017

Hello my lovelies.  Your Queen of all I survey is going to be writing large portions of this blog is a completely blind rage, so please forgive the fact that my expletive filled postings are going to be extra expletive filled.  Think of it as a double stuffed oreo.

Gabriel Fernandez was an 8 year old little boy.  I say little because he was little.  He was murdered in May of 2013.  Murdered is probably the wrong choice of word here.  More like he was finally put out of the misery that comes with constant torture and abuse.  Death was something I am sure just as I am sure I have been tasked with writing this that he prayed for daily.  To just not be. To just not feel.

How bad was it?  Well, we are going to get to that once I muster the courage, but until that moment let us meet the players in this sick and twisted thing.  First there is mommy Fernandez.pigdogmotherfernandez

Obvious just from the picture mother Theresa here should already have several mother of the year awards lining her walls.

Pearl SINthia Fernandez said not a word as she walked into a hearing in 2014 until she found out that Mr. Fuckface pigdogfuckfaceaguirrefernandezseen here,  had decided that he wanted to continue towards a trial instead of making a plea deal.  This folks is natural selection at work in case you missed it.  Turn down plea deal which would take death penalty off of table or roll those dice aaaaaaaand, snake eyes, new roller comin’ out.

Once she found that out she lost her shit, cussing out Fuckface for not taking a plea deal and then shouting that HE killed her baby.  She apparently was baking cookies or some shit every single time fuckface did something to Gabriel. For eight months.  Such a good mom.

Here is another picture of the beautiful loving couple that could never do anything to harm a child.  You can almost see the nurture when you look at them can’t you.  Fuck me, I wouldn’t let either of them look after one of my dogs just from the pictures and these people had care and control of children.  Not just poor Gabriel, CHILDREN.gabrielpigdogmother

How bad was it?  Four, yes count them Four DCFS workers have been indicted by Judge George G. Lomeli who is having none of this shit and has decided that caseworkers Stefanie Rodriguez and Patricia Clement and supervisors Kevin Bom and Gregory Merritt ignored evidence of repeated abuse and minimized Gabriel’s injuries.  These precious little snowflakes have thus far been shielded from court pictures. I found one picture that I am pretty positive is them but since I can’t get anybody to confirm that for me yet I will hold off posting it.  If there is a god they will be spending some quality time in a very bad prison somewhere hopefully sooner rather than later.  That being said, because I am nothing if not an eternal pragmatist, I think they will probably get a slap on the wrist at best and won’t be able to work with kids anymore which is great for the kids, but doesn’t really teach these cumwads any type of lesson now does it.

judge lomeli

Judge Lomeli,  from everything I have gathered is an exceptional Judge.  He is no nonsense, moves his trials along and if we can think back to not a judge Stephens for a moment Judge Lomeli is basically the complete antithesis of that particular shit show.  I wonder if she still has a job?

The timeline is going to be a little fucky because the wheels of justice grind slowly and there is stuff all over the place, from the time Gabriel first started being abused until the plea deal that wonder mother wanted so bad went sideways to when the social workers were indicted to the trial which is going on now.  I will do my best to keep it as linear as possible.

That’s all for right now folks

RBMD peacing  the fuck out.


Your Dean Of Fuckery Can Now Add Songwriter To My CV. ( a blog thanks to Truly)

April 6, 2017

Hello My lovelies.  Your Dean of Fuckery, Law Professor, Doctor of Doctoring,  Animal lactation consultant, Certified Rabies Free RBMD, Resident sarcasm expert, Pretend Judge, owner of one in house Psychic, Queen of all I survey and now Song Writer extraordinaire has come up with a new song thanks to Truly.

I realize it is not a real blog post, but it is better than nothing (at least sort of).

Without further carryings on, I give you  “The Shelter Got High” Original lyrics by RBMD.

Thanks Truly for the idea.  Totally needed to get out of the political mind space I’ve been in.
I was thinking bout politics until I got high, I decided that they are all dicks because I got high, can’t think what I should write about and I know why, ya ha because I got high, because I got high, because I got high
I was gonna find us a trial but then I got high.  It was gonna beat stabs by a mile until I got high, Now I don’t have a blog and I know why ya man, because I got high, because I got high, Because I got high la-da-da-da-da-de-da,
The in-house Psychic spoke up because she was high, no more posts about Trump she said cuz she’s sly.  She threw in the Clintons too and I know why yeah haaa because she was high, because she was high, because she was high.
 The no kill shelter joined in, Because you were high, Lots of good thoughts were coined because you were high, Truly had an idea and I know why, do so, because she was high, because she was high, because she was high, la da da da da de da
I figured this would be hard before I got high,  there were thoughts I had to discard because I was high, Finally decided to just write this, we all know why,  yahaaaa, Because I’m High, because I’m high, because I’m high.
I know that you’re all gonna like it because you’re all high,  or you might all think it’s just shit because you’re all high, I couldn’t give a fuck and you know why, yeah, because I’m still high, because I’m still high, because I’m still high.
For anybody that’s kind of thick I’m not really high, might as well cut this off quick because I’m not high, don’t bother to report this because it won’t fly yeah haaa, I’m not really high, I’m not really high, I’m not really high.
It’s just a fucking song because we were bored, turn it into what ever you want the Big Dog roared.  We don’t give a fuck and that’s for sure yeah man because we’re not high, because we’re not high, because we’re not high.
So there we have it kids.  One non-political, somewhat amusing, song writing effort by your Dean of Fuckery.  Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Really Big Mean Dog Peacing the fuck out.

 


I Love A Good Conspiracy Theory

March 30, 2017

trump meme

Hello my lovelies.  Your Dean of Fuckery/Law Professor/Doctor of Doctoring/Honorary DVM/ Animal Lactation Expert/Certified Rabies Free RBMD/ all around bad assed bitch and Queen of all I Survey is once again back to bring you a couple of things.

First, I would like to tell you about a friend of mine on Twitter. Ann has been my friend for quite a while and while we differ on our opinion of the current President (she is and has always been a Trump supporter) she is also a wonderful human being who has a broad enough mind to change it if the evidence presents itself to her satisfaction. I respect that the same way she respects that I would do the same. We had a very interesting conversation today about something that has nothing to do with the current state of fail in the US but about a trail of bodies that seem to be following the Clintons around.

I was immediately intrigued because I had no idea and I am usually up on things of this nature. I started to dig a little and my first stop was Snopes which firmly debunked where this is going. Still, I was bothered by a few things so I disregarded Snopes for the moment and began to search deeper. A lot deeper and decided that this does indeed warrant an investigation of some kind. It may amount to nothing, as a matter of course it will probably amount to nothing, but you don’t know if you don’t look and I love a good conspiracy.
Thank you Ann for the idea and also for accepting my findings whatever they may be.

The in-house Psychic is mad at me because she is apparently bored. You can only read the dogs minds so many times apparently, and while I do have that whole indentured servitude thing it is only polite to throw the poor psychic thing a bone once in a while. She keeps waking up screaming that the small animal on Trumps head is begging for help, so even if she can’t get a lock on him we can see what the head animal has to say.

Last but definitely not least I have been working on a Donald Trump Presidential Dictionary. Please look for it soon. I believe it is almost complete.

I hope everyone is well. My love to you all my no kill shelter friends.
RBMD peacing the fuck out.


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Examining the minds and actions of female killers

Varmt News Network

It's the Internet.

Just Da Truth!

musings of a dangerous mind

peskyvarmt

Just another WordPress.com site

Asleep in Left Field-My Life

4 out of 5 Friends recommend this WordPress.com site

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(Totally fictional) Drama Queen Stories

CALLS FOR JUSTICE

sometimes, there are monsters walking amongst us