Hi! My name is LeDonna. No, Not Ma-donna you stupid f@ck. And I’m Bipolar.

Hey there home slice. How U B?

I B Bipolar.

Aww, dat’s weak.

I know, yo, but is tha troof!

For reals?

Werd.

Man. that’s harsh, yo. But deep.

Aww, yo, thanx for keepin’it real.

You might be batshit crazy, but youse still my homie.

Thanks nigga. Power to tha peeps. Werd.

Sorry. I just have these odd conversations from time to time with my hip-hop alter ego. Hope it doesn’t weird you out. Don’t worry, he’s coo.

Anyhoo, back to life. Back to reality. Back to the hear and now, oh yeah.

Do you ever miss De La Soul? I don’t really, but I did like that song. So, yeah.

For those of you who are just tuning in to my life, I have been struggling with mental illness for a hot minute. I mean, I’m ok now. I’m at least 87% less psychotic than I was 10 minutes ago. Recovery is a tough process, one that requires taking one day at a time, or more accurately, one minute at a time. If I do that, things seem to be better. If I don’t, well, if you notice any missing prostitutes in local area…well, don’t look at me! How the hell do I know where they are! I’m not the one who seems to go out looking for hookers, unlike some pervs like you who seem to be up-to-date on those sorts of things. And no I’m not defensive. I’m just naturally combative.

At times I have a bit of trouble managing my disease, usually when I stop taking prescribed medications once I realize they don’t produce the desired high I seek  when the dosage is exceeded. It’s those times when I begin to wander off the yellow brick road of sanity that it is helpful to have the caring, watchful eye of a friend available on the scenr to sort of “nudge” me back on the right path. Or rather, more probably, drag or roll my lifeless heap of blacked out body back to the center of the road, where I can pick myself up once I waken from my coma, or a sex-starved crystal meth fueled trucker rolls by and scoops me up just in the nick of time, nursing me back to health under the delusion I am a  wounded pup, struck down by a mindless drunk behind the wheel of a renegade Mini Cooper. Methamphetamines, I tell ya. They ought to be illegal.

I could have totally prevented myself from even being close to being involved in such a debacle, if only I would have gotten a little help from my friends. See, I rely on a little help from my friends. Oooh. I get high with a little help from my friends. No, no wait, no I don’t! I don’t hang out with those people anymore. I came to my senses and realized they were “bad influences”. But still, I get by with a little help from my friends, which means maybe you could help me, at least from the angle that you could maybe give me a “heads up”  when my Bipolar Disorder begins to spin a bit out of control.

I devised this handy chart to help you and I work together to monitor my mood states and implement appropriate measures to keep me safe when things begin to oscillate wildly in either direction. (do you like how I snuck in the Smiths reference? It’s like pureeing spinach and baking it into muffins. Delicious and nutritious and you don’t even notice it’s there!) Now mind you, this is only to serve as a reference tool, and does not obligate you to any sort of of action. If you happen to see me flopping about like a pricked fish out of water, you don’t have to pick me up and gut me, clean me, portion me into dinner-sized fillets , then cook me up and plate and serve my wonderful fishy fleshy bounty to the whole family. No, it’s perfectly acceptable to stand back and watch me writhe and flop in discomfort while waiting for assistance from the proper authorities. I understand that my episodes might make you feel awkward..They make me feel awkward, too.

Just keep this handy chart on hand at all times, and you should never be left stuck wondering if now is the right time to notify the police.  it’s easy to use, it uses whatever song or type of music  I’m listening to and corresponding activity I’m engaged in, and links you directly to my real-time mental state. And to make this really user friendly, I’ve included a third column with specific instructions on the proper handling of  any given situation, ensuring the safety of not only myself, but of you as well. And that of the general population. This is important, you don’t want to get bitten, or sexually assaulted. Even if you’re into that sort of thing, I strongly urge you to take the recommended safety precautions. Unlike some species, the human finger or penis does not have the capability to regenerate itself once it is severed.  Think of this as a PSA, and Disaster Emergency Preparation List . Keep on hand within easy reach at all times, and a copy at every First Aid station and Fire Extinguisher. Also makes great bathroom reading, and is impressive when framed and wall-mounted.

After all, you never know when the big one might hit. Another plus-It is licensed and approved by FEMA, The American Psychiatric Association, and the AARP. It will not get you the 10% Senior Discount at participating IHOPs, mainly due to the fact they do not wish to participate anymore.

Alright then! Enough hullaballoo. Onto the chart. Quickly, I think I feel a touch of mania radiating mildly in my right big toe. Or, this could be a flare-up of my gout. But until we know for sure, let’s not take any chances, shall we?

Oh, BTW, I guess due to technical difficulties, before mentioned chart will actually be next post. See Ya Then!

Riddle Me This, Batman

Fuck. I am confused. And Drained.

At this point I am pretty convinced my life has morphed into that last scene in Rosemary’s Baby…you know the one, where all of a sudden you realize everybody you trusted were all part of this big deception, and guess what! Congratulations!!! You just spawned the Son of Satan! Ha Ha! Didn’t see that one comin’, did ya now? NOPE.

Have you ever had the experience of knowing that something was just plain wrong, but when you try to change it or fix it, correct the situation or defend yourdelf,- you just get told you’re crazy? That there is  nothing wrong, except YOUR perception, which is completely and utterly FLAWED and incorrect? Don’t you just love being told how hyper-sensitive you are when they are screaming this revelation to you? Of course I’m hyper-fucking sensitive!!! You’re freaking me the fuck out!! When you scream, IT SCARES ME!!

Does Not Compute.

Middle Aged Crazy- The B-52’s On The Today Show

Fuck. I really am getting old. 

Check this out. 

That was then:

Sigh.  Ok, this is now:

Disheartening, isn’t it?  Well, lucky for you, valued viewer, the above recent photo is 1000 light years nicer than this atrocity taken a few years back at what appears to be some sort of seniors office party (perhaps it was an AARP benefit of some sort? )

Holy Mary, Mother Of Jesus, that is painful. Kudos to Kate however for pulling off a look that is simultaneously appropriate for the office, a Gratetful Dead show, or converted into a sassy float for Gay Pride.  Fierce!

Wanna be even more depressed? take a look of this shot of my childhood heroine Debbie Harry with Kate Pierson, and some old guy. I’m not sure what they are doing or why the photo was taken. I’m assuming they were just hanging together, growing older, and griping about shit, cause that’s what old people do.

If you ran into these guys would you suspect they were iconoclastic rock gods who made cutting edge music that defined the punk generation? I’m thinking more like Aunts Deb and Kathy and Uncle Joe got themselves lost and are desperately seeking the comforts of the closest Luby’s Cafeteria. 

The look in Debbie’s eyes scream: Where is my Glucerna? Who the fuck took my Glucerna? And could somebody just help a lady with a Poise pad here? 

I guess it had to happen. Getting old, that is. I just didn’t think it would happen NOW, or I guess really what I’m trying say is- I didn’t think that NOW (being 20 years later) would happen so damn fast. I didn’t expect for it to creep up on me like this, yet simultaneously broadside my ass. Well, actually, I can see why my ass got broadsided. It’s because MY ASS IS SO FUCKING BROAD!!!!

I really need to stop watching the Today Show, each time I do, I become more and more embarrassed to be human. Last week it was the New Kids On The Block reunion. WTF??? Really people? Seriously????  Why????? I mean, who…WHO??? gave the green light on that one? Who got up that morning and decided THAT is what society needed that day…as a counterbalance to all the war, poverty, disease and destruction and the ongoing perpetual erosion of Western Civilation…we needed more New Kids. No, not more cowbell! We need more NEW KIDS! Are you fucking serious??? Who could let this go on at any level and hold a straight face? You mean to tell me that Matt Lauer didn’t bust out to a producer and say, “Gimee a fucking break? these Kids aren’t NEW!! They’re old!! And washed up!!! And sucked balls when they were New! How much ass must they blow now that they are fatter,slower, and their joints creak?”

To me it was just more proof that a Satan exists, and he is fucking having the belly laugh of his life. Why anyone would want to see the lamest, gayest musical act of the late 20th century 20 years later in its paunchy manopause, gasping out the most musically retarded lyrics while executing dance moves with the ease and agility of neighborhood dads Sweatin’ To The Oldies with Richard Simmons. What was worse was the pathetic legion of women who appeared to be my age,  happily boppin’ in the audience to “Hangin’Tough”.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Fascinating Untold Truth About The Beatles, Manson,Helter Skelter,Roman Polanski and How I Figured Out I’m Rosemary’s Baby

Yep, that’s ME. Well, at least, that’s how I feel most of the time,lolololololol………. Hey, I was born in 1969, I was adopted…I have 6 toes on each of my cloven feet…

HA! My feet are funky, but not quite to that extent.

So, this is what I read about the Beatles, The Devil, the Manson murders and the Polanski connection. It’s copied from the website http://stargods.org/BeatlesEvil.html.

The Beatles were satanists that had made a pact with the devil, and the bill had to be paid to the coven. Every band that has made a pact with satan has had a member die. Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Beatles, The Who, etc. In an interview with Barbara Walters, Lennon assassin Mark David Chapman clearly demonstrated that he was a satanist. In other words he was an errand boy collecting the payment for satan’s bill.

“Alone in my apartment back in Honolulu, I would strip naked and put on Beatles records and pray to Satan to give me the strength. I prayed for demons to enter my body to give me the power to kill” (cited by Evangelist Richard Ciarrocca, Observations, Dec. 1990).

“In his book, The Ultimate Evil, investigator-author Maury Terry writes that between 1966 and 1967, the Satanic cult, the Process Church, ’sought to recruit the Beatles.’”

The Beatles’ Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album was dedicated to satanist Aleister Crowley. It was released 20 years, nearly to the day, after Crowley’s death in 1947. The title song with the lyrics, “It was twenty years ago today…” On the album cover we see a collection of the Beatles personal heros. Aleister Crowley appears there.

Crowley was born in 1875 and was called the “Great Beast.” He was known to practice ritual child sacrifice regularly, in his role as Satan’s high priest or “Magus.” Crowley died in 1947 due to complications of his huge heroin addiction. Before dying, he succeeded in establishing Satanic covens in many U.S. cities including Hollywood. Kenneth Anger, like Crowley, is a Magus, and appears to be the heir to Crowley. Anger was seventeen years old when Crowley died. In that same year, 1947, Anger was already producing and directing films which, even by today’s standards, reek of pure evil.” – http://www.geocities.com/mmiddleton87/

A key link between the Beatles and the Process Church is Kenneth Anger, a follower of the “founding father” of modern Satanism, Aleister Crowley. Anger, born in 1930, and a child Hollywood movie star, became a devoted disciple of Crowley.

The movie Rosemary’s baby was filmed in the Dakota building were John Lennon was shot to death. It also appears that John Lennon knew the director personally. “The Director of Rosemary’s Baby was Roman Polanski. (At a party in California in 1973, Lennon ‘went berserk, hurling a chair out the window, smashing mirrors, heaving a TV against the wall, and screaming nonsense about film director Roman Polanski being to blame’ – Giuliano)

It’s also interesting to note that when the Beatles went to India to see the Yogi, John Lennon took along Mia Farrow star of the movie Rosemary’s Baby. It would appear that birds of the same occult coven flock together.

Did this nobody Director make a pact with the Hollywood coven in order that he be given a very choice script. So what is the price for fame in the underworld. It is the killing of your baby! This fact is even stressed in the movie. The coven in the movie demand Rosemary’s baby in return for her husband’s success and Hollywood fame.

It was an amazing coincidence that the film had a plot that would be similarly played out a year later – Polanski’s pregnant actress/wife Sharon Tate would be murdered by Charles Manson’s followers.

The murder of his wife appears to be pre-payment for an Academy Award nomination for Polanski’s Best Adapted Screenplay. This movie was a critically-acclaimed and a commercially successful film.

Weeks before Lennon’s death, on his latest album there was a song by Yoko Ono titled Kiss Kiss Kiss. When played backwards one can hear Yoko say, “I shot John Lennon.” This is the same album that John Chapman listened to over and over again! Was Chapman under mind control induced by the album.

Now enter another mind control victim by the name of Charles Manson another santanic bill collector. His followers saw to it that Roman Polanski’s wife was killed along with the baby. In the movie Rosemary’s Baby, it is stressed that there is occult power in babies blood. Could this be the reason why Sharon Tate’s baby was almost taken out of the womb by Susan Aktins Sadie who wanted to cut out the baby, but couldn’t because there hadn’t been time. They wanted to take out the eyes of the people, and squash them against the walls, and cut off their fingers. “We were going to mutilate them, but we didn’t have a chance to.”

Rosemary the main character in the movie, and was to have her baby taken away, had the nickname “Ro.” I wonder what Roman Polanski’s (who in real life had his baby murdered) nick name was? By the way, holly wood is what magicians wands are made from, and stars are the points of light that shine forth Lucifer’s occultist wisdom.

Now that we know Mark Chapman and Manson were receiving messages from albums, let’s take it even further. Remember the Beatles White Album that Charles Manson received his murderous orders from.

Sexy Sadie what have you done

The Beatles

Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme

John Lennon Murder

Conclusion

Coincidences

Roman Polanski movie,
Knife in the Water 1962

George Harrison attacked by man with knife.

All through the movie Help, Ringo Star is often chased by religious fanatics that are armed with a knife.

Susan Atkins was going to remove Sharon Tates baby with a knife.

Notes and Quotes

Sharon Tate’s unborn baby, killed by the Manson family, was named Paul Richard Polanski.

Theatrical Release: Rosemary’s Baby
June 12 1968

There is no comfort in the coven of the witch Some very clever doctor went and sterilized the bitch And the only man of energy, (Manson) yes the revolution’s pride (Manson) He trained a hundred women just to kill an unborn child.
—Leonard Cohen-
“No Diamonds in the Mine”

Sharon Tate
Date of birth (location)
24 January 1943, Dallas, Texas, USA
Date of death:
9 August 1969,

Note the three 9s in this date. Inverted it becomes 666! The number of Rosemary’s baby.

Rosemary’s Baby

My feeling is that that the Beatles were members of the same Hollywood occult coven that Roman Polanski was. The Movie Rosemary’s Baby was a future template of what was going to happen to Polanski’s wife Sharon Tate. Also the songs recorded by the Beatles seem to indicate that they knew what was going to take place. I believe that songs like Helter Skelter, which Charles Manson felt he got his orders to kill from, were recorded by the Beatles for that express purpose.

As in the movie Rosemary’s Baby, I believe Sharon Tate was manipulated and set up by all the people that she trusted and loved including her own husband. She was the sacrifice to satan for all Polanski’s success. I for one was not fooled by his tears during his interviews.

At some point, Farrow allegedly feared she would be the next victim of the murder spree

1968 excursion to India, and John Lennon of The Beatles wrote ‘Dear Prudence’ (also a song on White Album) for Mia Farrow’s younger sister

Mark Chapman was the name of Lennon’s killer – Winifred Chapman was the maid who had first found the bodies at 10050 Cielo Drive.

And, I also feel that Anton Szandor LaVey, the founder of The Church of Satan – to whom the Family members (especially Susan Atkins)is the leader of the Hollywood Coven.

“HINCKLEY followed as exactly as he possibly could EVERY SINGLE MOVE that Mark David CHAPMAN had made, in the days before CHAPMAN murdered John Lennon.

Even MORE bizarre: at the time of their respective arrests following both shooting incidents, John Hinckley AND Mark David Chapman were each carrying on their person a paperback copy of the J.D. Salinger novel, ’CATCHER IN THE RYE.’ (AS did the MK-Ultra mind-controlled assassin Jerry played by Mel Gibson in the surprisingly revealing movie Conspiracy Theory.)

J.D. Salinger, certainly a gifted author, had SUBSTANTIAL and enduring ties to the U.S. intelligence community; in particular, the CIA. Was the book originally intended to be a mind-control programming tool? It’s hard to say, but not inconceivable.

SO: Hinckley traced Chapman’s footsteps, as it were, in an incredibly eerie AND incredibly REVEALING, scripted tableau; which culminated, as it did with Chapman, in mind-controlled Manchurian Candidate assassin Hinckley shooting his prey on the New York City streets.

Which indeed, brings up yet a FURTHER point. Hinckley FIRST CAME to New York WELL BEFORE his attempt to assassinate Reagan, in order to prepare himself for his assigned role by imitating Chapman’s moves and actions of a few months before.

SO: HOW did Hinckley KNOW, several weeks BEFORE-hand, that Reagan was going to be at the place in New York City were Hinckley would shoot him, AND the DAY and TIME Reagan would be there??

SOMEBODY on the “INSIDE,” who knew Reagan’s schedule some time in advance, positioned Hinckley in New York well before the date of the attempted assassination of Reagan.

Somebody like George BUSH, Sr., maybe? Trying to get a jump on taking over as President? Or, maybe just sending ol’ Ronnie a VERY strong, clear message about who the “boss” really was…
Written by NewsHawk

Recently George Harrison died from cancer. In the murky world of the occult there are many convenient deaths due to cancer. The occult bill collector had already come once in a previous failed attempt to kill Harrison with a knife. I find this rather curios when comparing real life to the Beatle movie called Help. In the movie Ringo is given a ring that makes him the target of a cult which wants to sacrifice him! They continually chase after him with a knife!

SANTA MONICA, December 30, 1999 — Another Beatle victimized by violence.

Ex-Mop Top George Harrison was stabbed at his London-area home today by a knife-wielding intruder, reports say.

Harrison, 56, was stabbed once in the chest before fending off the attacker. His wife, Olivia, suffered minor head injuries in the attack, but did not require hospitalization….The attack, which reportedly took place sometime around 3:30 a.m. London time, was said to have shocked residents of the quiet, upper-class community of Henley-On-Thames. Harrison’s estate was thought to be particularly well guarded. It reportedly featured 24-hour security, patrol dogs and barbed wire fencing. British authorities said they were investigating burglary as a possible motive.

A 33-year-old man — a resident of the Beatles’ own Liverpool — was arrested and booked on suspicion of attempted murder.

Harrison’s stabbing comes 19 years after fellow ex-bandmate John Lennon was shot and killed outside his New York apartment by obsessed fan Mark David Chapman.

By Jim Bartoo, Hollywood.com Staff
Occultists often use so called sacred numbers to bring them power. Sacrifices are often made on the bases of these numbers. Prime sacred numbers are 3, 6, 7, 9, 11. Sacred multiples are 19, 21, 33.

Note the year that Harrison’s attack took place. It was in 1999. Inverted with the number one left out you have 666, the most sacred number of all. He was 56 years old. 5+6= 11 which is a very sacred number. Note too that he is stabbed by a man who just happens to be 33 years old. This too is a very sacred number since it is 3X11. He was also attacked around 3:30 am (33).

Another interesting event was that Prime Minister Chretien of Canada was attacked by a young man with knife too. The man somehow got through the intense home security and found his way in to into the Prime Ministers home late at night. This murder attempt too had failed.

Amazing too is how years later with President Ford in the White House, then Vice President Nelson Rockefeller was just a heartbeat away from becoming leader of the free world. With Rocky as Vice President, if anything should befall Ford at that time, he would instantly become President. Well, time to send in Manson’s followers once again.

One of his followers Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme who steps out in a failed assassination attempt against President Ford. (September 5, 1975) Two weeks later another woman Sara Jane Moore attempts another assassination San Francisco with a handgun. (September 22, 1975)

Squeaky claimed that she did not attempt to kill President Ford, because she never injected a bullet from the handle into the chamber. Was she under mind control? Could she of been programmed just to show up with a gun?

“They’re COMPLETELY ANTI-CHRIST. I mean, I am anti-Christ as well, but they’re so anti-Christ they shock me which isn’t an easy thing.” Derek Taylor, Press Officer for the Beatles

“I believed that he was Satan himself at times” George Martin, Beatles Producer

“Jesus, a garlic-eating, stinking little yellow, greasy fascist bastard catholic Spaniard.” (John Lennon, A Spaniard in the Works, p.14)

“Christianity will go, it will vanish and shrink. I needn’t argue about that. I’m right and will be proved right. You just wait.. . .We’re more powerfull than Jesus ever was..” John Lennon

On the album there is a song called Sexy Sadie. Well it turns out that this was the nickname of Susan Atkins. Now “Sadie Mae Glutz was the alias given to the Family member Susan Atkins by Manson even before the appearance of the White Album song ‘Sexy Sadie!’ -http://www.phinnweb.com/livingroom/rosemary/

It was Sadies testimony in court that brought an end to the Manson family. Now read the lyrics below from the Beatles song Sexy Sadie.

Sexy Sady “White album” Year 1968

Sexy Sadie what have you done
You made a fool of everyone
You made a fool of everyone
Sexy Sadie ooh what have you done.

Sexy Sadie you broke the rules
You layed it down for all (the court) to see
You layed it down for all to see
Sexy Sadie oooh you broke the rules.

One sunny day the world was waiting for a lover
She came along to turn on everyone
Sexy Sadie the greatest (Manson killer)of them all.

(Susan Atkins was a sexual lover of the Manson family)

Sexy Sadie how did you know
The world was waiting just for you
The world was waiting just for you
Sexy Sadie oooh how did you know.

Sexy Sadie you’ll get yours yet
However big you think you are
However big you think you are
Sexy Sadie oooh you’ll get yours yet.

Susan Atkins often bragged and boasted.

We gave her everything we owned just to sit at her table
Just a smile would lighten everything
Sexy Sadie she’s the latest and the greatest of them all.

She made a fool of everyone
Sexy Sadie.

However big you think you are
Sexy Sadie.
Brackets by author.

Another nickname of Susan Atkins was Sadie Mae Glutz

Maggie Mae (Written by Lennon/McCartney/Harrison/Starkey)
Album “Let it be” Year 1970

Oh dirty Maggie Mae they have taken her away
And she never walk down Lime Street any more
Oh the judge he guilty found her
For robbing a homeward bounder
That dirty no good robbin’ Maggie Mae
To the port of Liverpool
They returned me to
Two pounds ten a week, that was my pay.

Beatles “Let It Be” Album
May 8th 1970

Speculation: Could the above lyrics also be a metaphor for black mail?

So why was Sharon Tate chosen to die. My feeling is that Roman Polanski made a pact with the Hollywood coven. This was an exchange for his child so that he be given fame and success. He was a nobody movie director till he was handed a script that would make him an instant success. So why give a major script to a basically unknown director and not a well established director? Why is because of his agreed sacrificial offering that would have to be made in the future. Manson would be the grocery clerk coming for the payment of the bill.

Suasan Atkins Sadie had stated that Sharon Tate had been the last to die because, “She had to watch the others die.” By all accounts, Tate died in excruciating fear and agony. Bugliosi gives Atkins’ account: she was holding Sharon Tate at the time and, “Tex came back and he looked at her and he said, ‘Kill her.” And I killed her… And I just stabbed her and she fell, and I stabbed her again. I don’t know how many times I stabbed her…” Sharon begged for the life of her baby, but Atkins told her, “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Before he killed him, Charles “Tex” Watson told Voytek Frykowski: ‘I am the Devil and I am here to do the Devil’s business.’” Months later at the trial, Manson’s “disciples” were said to have been utterly under his power.

Dandy Szandy, Helter Skelter, Rosemary’s Baby, and Other Items Of Inspiration

Ok. So, if you recall from my earlier posts from yesterday, the last few weeks have been a bit emotionally tumultuous for LeDonna. After a sudden, but much needed move away from her emotionally bloodsucking psychic vampire of a job at Matt’s In The Market, LeDonna ended up with too much time on her hands and no refills on her psychotropics, and plunged head first into yet another dreaded ShameSpiral. {Personally, I’m beginning to believe she quite likes these ShameSpirals she’s always twisting about in, since she seems to travel down them quite frequently. I think they are kind of like an amusement park ride for her, like that Barrel Of Monkeys ride she loved so much at AstroWorld as a young child. It’s the adrenaline. You know how those addictive types are!} In fact, this was not just any old ShameSpiral…this one was supermassive, more like a ShameVortex. (Hey, I like that. Can I get a patent on that?)

So, as I was feeding the flames of the firey inferno of despair in my mind with the DuraFlame Logs of misery via Sylvia Plath, I became completely entranced and intoxicated with the macabre and fiendishly morbid parallels between the suicide deaths of Plath and later Assia Wevill…both poets, both the female companions of Ted Hughes, himself one of the most brilliant poets of his generation. Obviously, Plath was his his wife, and was suffering from her own mental maladies well before her relationship began with Hughes, but arguably it was Hughes infidelity with Wevill that led to the couple’s separation, and ultimately, what pushed Plath over the edge to suicide. But what was even more disturbing was the fact that Wevill ended up taking her own life six years after Sylvia…in the exact same manner, with a gas oven. Creepy, huh? Oh but WAIT, there’s more! Prior to gassing herself to death, Assia Wevill snuffed out the 3-year-old child she shared with Hughes, a little girl they called Shura.

Well, Hughes Shura had a clusterfuck of just royally bad luck snowball of his lying, cheating, devil-worshipping ass. Karma’s a bitch, huh, sucka?! What kind of freakish monster would drive two women beyond the point of madness, to a place where they felt an open gas oven would be the best place to poke their head in to get a breath of fresh air?

I don’t know. He looks pretty creepy to me. I don’t know what they saw in him to begin with, maybe he put a love spell on them with all that black magic he was doing.

So, after spending sufficient time sniffing out the coffers of the Plath tragedy, I decided to further feed my insatiable desire to devour all things aberrant, ghoulish and utterly disturbing by feasting at the Old Country Buffet of internet urban legends and conspiracy theories. Before me was a smorgasborg of saucy soul-sapping tales of Illuminati, covert messages, backwards maskings, Hollywood covens and sacrifices to satan, assasination plots, apocalyptic doomsday prophesies…

Why, why, WHY??? am I so fascinated by what is peculiar, weird, anti-social, and slightly off? Now don’t get me wrong, I certainly have that ultra-femme girly girl in me that loves all things luminous, sparkling and pretty, but there is also this really dark streak in me that is just fantastically entertained by the foul and profane. If given the choice of watching either a story about fluffy bunnies making the cancer kids happy, or picking apart the autopsy details of a murder-suicide…I’ll pick the cadaver, every time.

Except at Easter. Then fluffy bunnies are kewl.

So, for whatever reason, since I’m ruminating on Ted Hughes and the negative consequences resulting from his careless and glib invocations of demons and such (Handy Hint, people…if there is any nugget of advice you can take away from this post today, it should be this…please, please, PLEASE, never just ‘casually’ summon a demon or some other nefarious death force, just because you think it’s ‘fun!’ or ‘exciting!’, or ‘I’m not even sure this bullshit is real!’-because-IT IS. Even if you don’t think you’ve seen something big bad and ugly and all you conjuring has been in vain…trust me people. Folks who tend to go around asking for the presence of evil to show itself, unfortunately, end up getting just what they asked for…and often times it’s not what, when, or where it was expected. )

Ok. Ted Hughes, occult, black magic, bad luck…where do I turn to next for more stories of idiots who sell their souls to the Unfriendly One and lived to tell (or maybe not!)??

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!! JUST JOKING!!! Ok, for real:

I think my abnornal fear of the devil stems from my early childhood. This was one of the first records Mama gave me as a little girl, it was under the Christmas Tree along with The Sesame Street Alphabet Album.

As a sign of my innate musical proclivities, I soon became bored with the banal whimperings of Grover and Big Bird, and knew all my devil-hating inspirational hymns by heart. I yearned for a new sound, something fresh, but with an edge.

I recalled how profoundly The Beatles had affected me as a young child. Did you know this album was dedicated to Aleister Crowley, the famous occultist? He’s on the cover. You know, since I was lonely and ignored most of the time as a kid, it left me all kinds of time for deep thoughts and meditation. I would lay on my belly and spend hours staring and drooling at all the famous faces on the cover of Sgt. Pepper’s. One time Mama gave me too much of my asthma syrup, and one night when I was lying in my playpen I started trippin’ balls while listening to A Day In the Life...and I swear, I started having visions of this guy:

That’s Mr. Lavey. His full name is Anton Szandor Lavey, but I like to call him Szandy. At first, I thought he might be my real daddy, since he was real pale and bald, just like me. Plus, he looked really mean and like he didn’t like me too much, probably another characteristic my biological father possessed. I quickly realized that whew, much to my relief, he wasn’t my father…(or…was he??????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!***** )

Turns out, Dandy Szandy there heads up a special church called The Church Of Satan. It’s a chuch for people who don’t seem to like God, or believe in the Baby Jesus. These are people who feel the traditional Christian philosophy , which consists of boring laws like don’t lie, steal, or kill (YAWN!)which are just a drag! and they want to reserve their God- given hedonistic right to do cool stuff like sacrifice small animals while wearing sassy capes, throw curses on dimwitted idiots who cut them off on the freeway or leave the toilet seat up, be really really mad all the time, just cause they can, and to compulsively ram/rub their genitalia up, on or about anything, and absolutely everything they damn well please.

UP NEXT: The amazing link I discovered (gasps!) between Satan, The Beatles, Aleister Crowley, Charles Manson, Roman Polanski, Rosemary’s Baby, Me, David Hasselhoff, and potted meat products.

***** indicates more information regarding this ridiculous delusion will be provided in the upcoming post.

My New Favorite Song

Falling Down – Scarlett Johansson

Damn you, Scarlett Johansson. I’m trying to hate you here, with all of your pouty-lipped seductive perfection. That was supposed to be me who banged Benecio Del Toro in that elevator. He was looking for me, but you were there in the elevator shaft ,lookin’ for some shaft, then Benecio walks in and you just jumped on that poor man and defiled him, an act of lewdness so vile it was a mockery of that bad Aerosmith song. You heathen hussy! He was supposed to be MINE! The latino men all love ME. Thank God for Benecio, there are other days, other elevators, another opportunity. You will not cock-block me next time, O Scarlett Wench!

Oh yeah, but your new song is really kick-ass. I have to hand it to you, I wasn’t expecting anything nearly this cool coming from the likes of you. I had pegged you as more of a Jay-Z or P-Diddy protege. Maybe called “Scar J”, or something like that. I could see you all hooched out with scarlet sequined booty pants and a matching red vinyl bra to show off your “gurls” { editors note: Scarlett refers to her boobs as “her girls”}, and maybe a funky fresh grill with “Scar J” in rubies. Or, maybe not. From a distance, all that red on your teeth could look like bleeding, like maybe you’d been punched by your baby’s daddy or had a bad case of the meth mouth.

No, seriously, the song is great and I am really looking forward to hearing the rest of the record. From what I’ve read, NME has given it stellar reviews, calling it “brilliant” and “sure to top some best of 2008 lists”. And I always stand by my NME as an excellent gauge of musical authority…unless they’re talking about Coldplay. {Sorry! I just could never get into them. Possibly…due to a subliminal Gwyneth Paltrow resentment connection. Oh, and that thing about Chris Martin sounding like a congested muppet, or Dave Matthews having an asthma attack. God, and WHY did they name their kid APPLE? Thankfully it wasn’t a multiple birth, or we would’ve had sisters Pear and Apricot, and brother…hmm. What fruit would be suitable to name a boy after? There really aren’t very many “manly” fruity names. I guess if you name a man after a fruit, it would be like calling him a fruit, and that would be…hmm. Kinda gay? Well, if not totally gay, absolutely, a little bit effeminate at least. Hey, wait…if there were a boy, she could have named him Tom, as in Tomato!!!! That’s right, tomato is indeed a fruit, and quite a masculine one at that. It really would have been hilarious if Gwynnie would have had a whole litter of pups, she could nickname the whole gang “Her Little Fruit Bowl!”}

Wow. Man. Now that’s what I would call a tangent.

Kudos to Scarlett, anybody who can take Tom Waits music and work it into something that doesn’t make me want a lobotomy when I hear it…has magical abilities, and I am in awe.

It’s Been An Interesting Week Here In Loonsville

Look everybody, I finally got a book written about me! It’s about damn time.

Wow. It has been a hell of time for me these past few weeks, and “hell” would be an amusingly appropriate metaphor, as the firey bowels of the netherworld seem to have been the most prevalent topic on my mind. I spent a lot of time this week immersed in subjects of the occult, the bizarre, the strange. I like to feed on news of the paranormal much like a mosquito likes to siphon the putrescent blood of the diseased. I ingest it greedily, then it festers in my brain for a while until it transmutes into a giant tumor of dread and paranoia. This tumor of terror will continue to grow and metastasize rampantly throughout my head, heart, and gut until any prognosis of clear and rational thinking is completely eradicated. This is probably not a good afternoon pastime for someone like myself who is prone to bouts of paranoia and illogical thinking. But since when has that ever stopped me? Sometimes the worse I know something is for my health and sanity, the more likely I am to engorge myself with it.

I think that is called ’self-destructive behavior’. Hmmpf. I may have to look into that one.

Thank God I found myself a new job and I am back in the saddle again. I was off for about 3 weeks after leaving Matt’s. Although it was a good move for me and produced a much needed change in my life, the way it all went down really shoved me right back down into {ANOTHER! YAWN!!!!} massive shame spiral that plummeted me down to depths of darkness I hadn’t seen in at least 2 or 3 days prior to stumbling into this particular spiral. Yeah, I was feeling pretty low.

*Helpful Hint* Really depressed people really probably shouldn’t read Sylvia Plath, or listen to Sylvia Plath reading Sylvia Plath. Yeah. Probably not a good idea.

Oh Sylvia. How I love you. You are the emotionally imbalanced lunachick’s ultimate muse. I’m not sure which is more facinating-the darkly bewitching madness of your writing, or the even crazier truth behind your life. And has anyone ever told you, that the way you read those poems of yours is kinda creepy, too ? I never realized your voice was so…well,haunting. Yeah, it is, really. It really is. I got sucked into watching some clips about you on YouTube and heard the audio of you reciting “Daddy” and “Lady Lazarus” among others. Really brilliant, I have to hand it to you, but as if you and all your damn insanity and suicide and creepy husband Ted Hughes and all weren’t enough to disturb the bejeezus out of me, the malfeasant sound of your voice as you pound out word after word with such an angry froth…it was just downright diabolical. Don’t do that next time, ok, Sylvia? Try to lighten up a little bit, you’re not the only one who gets bummed out, you know. You don’t have to be such a downer. The way you drone on, it’s enough to make someone stick their head in an oven and turn the gas up, and you don’t want that to happen, do you? No, of course not, because gas is really fucking expensive right now, whether it’s for your car or to light your oven to kill yourself.

Try looking on the bright side once in a while, maybe catch an old episode of the Brady Bunch. Especially the ones where the kids sing “Sunshine Day”.

See! Those crazy Bradys always bring a little sunshine into my day. That is, until I notice how thin, popular and pretty Marcia is…and I’m not! Everybody always pays attention to Marcia, and never to me. Marcia always gets the boys, Marcia always gets good grades, Marcia never ever has a bad hair day, Marcia’s poop smells like Chanel No. 5. FUCK MARCIA! MARCIA! MARCIA! MARCIA!

Wow. Gotta get that neurosis of mine under control…

Hear Sylvia Read ‘Lady Lazarus’…Tell Me This Doesn’t Freak The Fuck Out Of You!

Sylvia Plath Reads Lady Lazarus

More Pics of The Stay Puff Marshmallow Girl

I am not quite sure what I was thinking here when I designed this sassy Thinking Cap. It was my first foray into the world of fashion design. Early on, you can sense the eccentricities of my style, as well as the obvious Red China influence my father had on me. Fierce!

I think I was going for a “Little Red Popette” theme with my look. I wasn’t even Catholic, but somewhere in me, there was a Cardinal!

“Daddy, wake-up! It’s time to take me to chemo!! DADDY!!!!! DADDY!!!!!!!!”

Behold The Stay Puff Marshmallow Girl in all her blinding white glory!

So bald. So white. So chubby. Really, in many ways, I haven’t changed a bit.

Great New Quick Fix Meal Idea!

Where have you been all my life!???!!

CHEESEBURGER-IN-A-CAN!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!

Yes, the bun,cheese and the condiments are included.

Too busy to grill up a hearty cheeseburger meal for the family, or even swing by the local fast food joint to pick up something pre-made? No worries, mi amigo. Convenience and portability have reached new all-time highs thanks to the ingenuity and culinary prowess of out German compadres. Yes, the same folks who brought us the trusted taste treats of sauerkraut, leberwurst (liver sausage) and schwarzsauer (blood soup), have managed to take the perfection of their homeland creation the Hamburg Steak, top it with cheese and a bunch of other savory accoutrements, and wait-the fun doesn’t just stop there- OH NO! Those crazy yodelin’ lederhosen-heads went off and figured out how to keep the great taste of a cheeseburger alive forever, or at least 5-7 years with the current average shelf-life expectancy. How? By cramming that sucker into a tin can, that’s how! Now you can take a whole bushel of cheeseburgers with you wherever you go! Toss ‘em in your backpack! Keep ‘em in the trunk of your car and have em ready the next time you break down, have a flat, or need to feed that young chinese boy you just abducted before you rape, torture and mutilate him. Of course you want your victims to have a delicious and nutritious last meal! If you’re lucky, you just might taste a hint of that cheeseburger yourself when you sit down to eat him. Yum! Double Deelite!

Cheeseburger-In-A-Can also makes a great gift! I use it as a stocking stuffer. Alex just loves it.

Cheeseburger-In-A-Can is quick and easy to prepare! Simply pop open the can and steam it using a double-boiler method. No double boiler? No worries, just try sticking it in the bathroom sink and let it warm up while you take a shower, or hold your iron up over the top of it and keep pressing the steam button. In about 30-45 minutes, your tasty cheeseburger should be at least lukewarm enough to keep yourself from gagging it up while you cram it down your maw. Now, how exactly do I know it’s ready you ask?  You’ll know Cheeseburger-In-A-Can is at it’s peak flavor profile when it looks like this:

Note the patty will be a uniform shade of greenish-grey. All Cheeseburgers-In-A-Can are precooked to a temperature of 165 degrees to ensure the prevention of nasty food-bourne illnesses. No sorry, no medium rare special orders here! Cheeseburger-In-A-Can wants you taste healthy goodness in every chewy, slimy bite, not the taste of bacterium and parasites! Yuk-O!

Don’t try to microwave Cheeseburger-In-A-Can, it just doesn’t work as well. Instead of a soggy glop of yeasty gump, your bun will magically petrify into a tooth-crushing magnesium-limeshale crust which is just murder on those fillings in your molars.

Cheeseburger-In-A-Can unfortunately is not readily available in stores, but you can order it pretty easily on line. The cost and the wait are well worth it. I’ve enjoyed Cheeseburger-In-A-Can so much I’ve ordered their new side dishes Taters-In-A-Can and Chicken Caesar-In-A-Jar. MMMnnnn! I can’t wait!