ANTI-FEINSTEIN

IRONY?

As I began to compose, the lyric “mine eyes have seen the glory…,” the Battle Hymn of the Republic.

The song links the judgment of the wicked at the end of the age (Old Testament, Isaiah 63; New Testament, Rev. 19) with the American Civil War. Since that time, it has become an extremely popular and well-known American patriotic song.[Wikipedia]

My Wicked: U.S. Government, The One Percent, Capitalism
My Prediction: As people’s eyes are opened – no matter how long it takes – how little the actually matter, they will rebel with cries of injustice…oh, wait! They already are.

This past Sunday 60 Minutes: The Whistleblower was an eye-opener! And became my battle cry to finally get Dianne Feinstein out of office, finally. The way 60 MInutes portrayed the senate floor’s reaction on television shows just how dismissive I believe politicians are and make me feel as a citizen, hence difficulty in letting go of my hate.

Since then – two fucking days, 2 tweets to 60 minutes, 2 tweets to l a times writers – I have been trying to find out the name of the bill/law, so I could confirm Dianne Feinstein’s vote, when I came across this:

The bill Marino sponsored — Ensuring Patient Access and Effective Drug Enforcement Act — sailed through Congress with unanimous support and was signed by President Obama in 2016. The legislation makes it harder for the DEA to suspend drug companies from fulfilling suspiciously large shipments of opioids, according to a report from The Washington Post and CBS News’ “60 Minutes.”[ABC News]

I should have known it would be my favorite news channel. I also came across this:

Did President Obama know bill would strip DEA of power? [Washington Post]

Never considered that.

Hm!

In my universe it is considered the height of irresponsibility to sign anything without knowing what one was signing! Either that, or the signer just didn’t care; like my supposed “government representatives:” Senators Dianne Feinstein and Kamala Harris; Representatives Maxine Waters and Karen Bass; and President: Barack Obama.

I must acknowledge my psychologist for his suggestion that I investigate a creative outlet for my hate. In addition to pot, which makes me mellow, I think I have found it and unleash my first in a series of Wickedness:

ANTI-FEINSTEIN

ANTI-FEINSTEIN by CulverCityLeo image courtesy wired.com

I was short one color…not bad. I’ll get it down to eight. I feel more relaxed after my cousin and our mutual friend, Sylvia brought me some McDonald’s and I ate some brownie, and I vented through creativity and oh, I fired my psychiatrist. He was pretty blunt today saying he is about medication and if I am choosing not to take it there is not much more he can do. I am like, “Great, are we done here?”

Massacre/Mass-Shooting Pool Worksheet

Truth Regarding Mass Shootings & Massacres

Like it or not, this is my response to the events unfolding in Las Vegas.

My Truth: As long as…

  • there is a 1%
  • humans are divided by race instead of united by species
  • military bombs the hell out of the planets surface
  • the outer space becomes littered with spacecraft
  • the American government continues to kills its constituents through lack of decent healthcare as a right
  • this world falls into disrepair

…we are going to need this more often.

Massacre/Mass-Shooting Pool Worksheet

Massacre/Mass-Shooting Pool Worksheet

93°F In Culver City

93°F In Culver City

I awoke this morning to do some work before an 8:30 a.m. appointment.

I was called in at 8:34 a.m. for vitals at Venice Family Clinic.

I had a very thorough examination by my doctor, albeit beginning late at  8:50 a.m.

I had been experiencing a shortness of breath and pain in the middle of my chest since I switched from duloxetine(?) to viibrid(?) – which I learned today would not improve my impotence. The doc felt that the impotence was due to diabetes. Of course, being a government recipient, an Rx for viagra is out of the question. Strike 1 *

OMG! I just thought of something funny 😀

The doctor orders an EKG. Based on the EKG, she suggests I go to the emergency room for suspicious coronary event. I hesitate, but under threat of calling the paramedics – which would not be all bad, if you get my meaning – I comply and mother drives me to Marina del Rey Hospital.

Strike 2 was the third patient in triage: I find it the rudest and such a lack of boundaries when another patient is playing audio at a volume as to invade the person sitting right next you. By this time I had not eaten, nor had a stroke or heart attack, so I was getting uncomfortable, impatient and irritable. Fortunately, mom brought me something to eat. Finally, the Dr, Kay(?) came in and suggested overnight hospitalization for good measure due to enlarged heart. Additionally, due to my government coverage I would have to be transferred to another hospital. Fine. Let me get the hell out of here and get my ass over there because I can get over there faster than it takes you to even inform me of what’s going on, inflammation of my legs and feet very apparent.

Oh, and by the way, how fucking pretentious are you that you have a scribe who is violating my health care privacy by actually viewing me. If she can afford $20 lunches – overheard – why can’t she afford a dictaphone and learn to use it?

I get to Southern California Hospital, Culver City. I am super calm, but direct because I feel that half my day has already been wasted going from one medical institution to another. I relate what has already transpired and inquire politely if she has any idea how long it would take to get admitted. She turns to Dr. Bitch – I can see and actually hear through the six inch bulletproof shield, which, thankfully for them is there and that I am one fucking angry pacifist – relays my story and without even looking at the documentation I had brought, says “I am busy right now.”  <The Truth**> The admissions clerk – I think it’s the same lady I complained about before – turns to me and says she can’t be definite. Thank you, have a nice day.

I decide to take the bus to the dispensary my psychologist had referred to me. As I am walking to the bus, I have another stroke…

It just occurs to me, that I am pretty sure that I justifying my desire to just go the fuck home already – if I am going to fucking die, I’d rather die at home than in some incompetent, unprofessional hospital.

…Dr. Bitch didn’t even look at my paperwork and I had expressly stated that this was a matter of a coronary issue. At the time, I became incensed. I march back to the hospital and ask the name of the doctor? nurse? tech? who’s name I will include in a strongly worded letter to Southern California Hospital, Culver City. The admissions clerk turns to the girl and informs her “That guy would like to speak to you,” which is a fucking lie; I only asked her name; I did not specify why. A guy steps in – green shirt with horizontal blue stripes, trying to assist – or nosey? This is when she says “I am busy.”

Fuming, I walk across the street – again with shortness of breath and chest pain. After Lobo, Patient Relations, whom I had been talking to on the phone while the three stooges were trying to get Dr. Bitch’s name, had told me he would look into it and get back to me.

Look into  what? Bring your fucking ass down her so I can’t point the culprits out! Just WHOM are you going to look into without a name or identification. And that’s exactly what I did when he finally came down from his air-conditioned office to find out why I was in the building. And I will point out, it was no minor feat wiht Reese(sp?), the security guard, choosing to argue over Lobo’s gender – I had thought I had been speaking to a woman. – translate that Spanish IV! 😀

I am tired and high and forgetting, let me wind this shit up!

When we get back to the emergency room, the window is shut. There is no way to ID anyone. Okay, that’s the way you want to play it. Give me Tony Desai (sp?), supposedly the top dog. Left message on voice mail.

On the bus, still fuming, call Tony back and leave another voice mail, this time using derogatory terms when referring to Dr. Bitch and demanding a list of all employees working in the emergency room @ 1:25 pm on September 1, 2017, which I will forward to my lawyer, and threatening this ain’t over.

Tell me the truth!

Am I wrong?

I’ll admit, I should not have used derogatory terms in my last voice mail, but considering my measured temperament – compared to how early I would have erupted previously – I may have been a little arrogant to expect IMMEDIATE attention, but I did not argue, I left willingly, no fuss.

WHAT THE FUCK DID SHE DO THAT ANGERED ME SO FRIKKIN’ MUCH?

I need another joint.

Good night!

I just know I’m forgetting somethign. 😀

* …o was it Stroke 1?
* As I write this, I can’t remember what specific action by her incensed me, but if you’re still reading, you’ll see just what kind of Dr. she is.

Capitalism Isn't Working Another World Is Possible

Why I Detest Capitalism

Of course, it started in the home, though I had no idea of what capitalism was at the time. The earliest indication would’ve been my mother’s compulsive shopping, which now encompasses every closet in the house, four! Even today she’s the first to claim she has been cured through anonymous programs, and justifies this cure by shopping at yard sales for things she has no room/need for in her life.

As for me, I have been identified as spoiled. I am the oldest, so it makes sense, and as I sit here and type this post fifty-four years old, I have to admit that I am spoiled. I don’t like it and after fifty-four years have somehow come to despise wealth and celebrity. Millions of dollars as a salary is exorbitant; people with wealth are afforded opportunities: the perfect example would be Chris Brown; found guilty of FELONY assault and given a second chance by – albeit stupid – society; me FELON who could not secure employment for over 13 years!

Anyway, my contempt for capitalism increased with age, as I saw how it corrupts everything it touches. I live in Los Angeles County and collect Supplemental Security Income due to medical complications which preclude me from working. At $895/mo, I can’t even afford housing and remain , technically, homeless. And get this, I have been paying $200/mo for 10 years (approximately $31K over 13 years) to in a garage next door to my parents, who are also my landlords. Today, their preparation of the house in front really got to me and I viewed it as the tenants paying $3000/mo get favored just because they pay more. My garage could use some improvements, but once again, being poor equals no matter.

Even today, my mother is the first to be asking for money all the time. I know I owe her, I know where she lives, I even give financial updates, yet I feel harassed over money all the time. I pray for the day I am done paying her back and in the meantime, I take nothing from them. This combined with my guilty conscience from being a drug addict for so long, have taught me to hard on myself and to live and ascetic life. I know from personal experience that when I had the least, I was the happiest. I try to live in the vein and pray every day for Wall Street to crumble to the ground, along with the one percent.

US News

All I Need To Know About Charlottesville

…defined in one image.

MY Truth

MY Opinion

  • sad to see humanity reduced to savagery
  • confused regarding correlation between collateral damage and hero

I was going to post this on my personal social media account, but had second thoughts and thought it better to post here.

Reason?

No one comments here!

laughter applause laughter applause laughter applause crickets crickets crickets

Happy Fourth?

What do we have to be happy about?

We the 99%, are still being ruled by the 1% for the last 241 years!

We the 99%, are still being ruled by a gov’t run on laws 241 years old

We the 99%, are “represented” by individuals that work 1/3 less the average that we work.

We the 99%, are “represented” by individuals that earn their income for lifetime, while we are forced to live on gov’t supplemental income.

We the 99%, are “represented” by individuals trying to kill us with horrific healthcare.

The gov’t spends OUR tax dollars; we should be able to designate where OUR $ go.

 

Think about that while you are barbecuing, celebrating!

 

Flag hung upside down to represent how ass-backwards our country is!