Murdering Me Was Easy Peasy

White Jesus hangs in his sexy death pose on campus with St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward, Madonna College (now with a football team to better serve the lord) and defunct Ladywood High School, perhaps the worst piece of shit all-girl high school in the land, circa 1981.

More recently, the self-serving nasty nuns of my youth, in Livonia, Michigan, sold the hospital, probably to themselves, to an organization called Trinity Health, and then raised two million dollars to build another empty house of god for the hospital, using my hide as collateral.

And it ain’t okay.

~ * ~

I am so alone.

Among humans.

And maybe peer Ladywood graduates.

Am I the only one locked up in the campus looney bin?

The horror.

Death would be better than being me in my story.

I have been criminally Catholic Jesus mind raped in corrupt sexist Jesus America.

~ * ~

I am anti-Catholic, not a bad person, just not a Christian.

~ * ~

For many people in Michigan, Jesus is a god, their own, or others.

For me, Jesus is my attacker.

He’s the front man for the people who raised me in crappy conservative Catholic schools and then human trafficked and tortured me as an adult.

~ * ~

In Michigan, Jesus can get away with my rape and murder, metaphorically speaking.

But I can’t get any respect, or equal protection, for calling out Catholic Jesus for doing me criminally wrong.

~ * ~

The pain of being a victim of a criminal god, the same god who raised me, who no one but me wants to hold accountable for his transgressions, makes a normal life impossible.

~ * ~

Catholics believe in virgin birth.

But I’m the one mis-labeled delusional.

~ * ~

In God we fuck?

Sure, for a buck.

Actually, my murder was worth a measly six grand to the Catholics.

~ * ~

Does this bride of Christ actually turn tricks?

According to news reports and press releases, Sr. Modesta, for what I believe is a delusional and sexist idea of god, raised two million dollars for a chapel addition to a hospital the Felician nuns no longer own and before that a million for the hospital, St. Mary Merciless.

~ * ~

Not surprisingly to me, St. Mary Merciless hospital had a horrible reputation, even among Catholics.

When I was growing up, even my brainwashed Catholic mother did not take her children to the Livonia Catholics.

When push came to shove, and we needed emergency services, we went to Garden City hospital.

~ * ~

Not incidentally, Garden City Hospital is where my husband died due to poor care in the first year of the witchhunt designed personally for me, by my higher ed employer in order to silence me and take me out, as cautionary example for other union teachers)

~ * ~

Aiming to take pictures, I visited the scene of my murder at St. Mary Merciless hospital, in 2014.

~ * ~

In 2013, I was tortured during a week of illegal, unnecessary week of sexist Jesus psychiatry.

This happened solely because my employer, Land of Motown Community College, suicide swatted me and the Livonia Police Fuck the Bitch Squad botched an unnecessary retaliatory so-called welfare check.

The law for involuntary admittance to a psychiatric ward was not followed.

Instead, the law was trounced, but the state refused to hold my attackers accountable.

~ * ~

Sticking to the Catholic portion of my story.

Never trust the Livonia Catholics is what I’ve learned at both ends of my life, now 56 years old.

Never trust the Catholic Church at all.

~ * ~

According to the United Nations, involuntary detainment in a nuthouse equals torture.

And I certainly agree.

Especially when criminal, retaliatory, sexist and done by Catholics in America.

~ * ~

The pope should have zero connection to my American civic life.

Putting the pope in my life turns me into a human feminist bomb.

I am so angry, I could explode.

~ * ~

I now see the similarity between the bible and the diagnostic manual of psychiatry, between priests and psychiatrists, in the most painful way.

Psychiatry is as much a scam as the Catholic Church.

Read up about the anti psychiatry movement which includes progressive psychiatrists.

There is no science to back the labels and the drugs.

The false notions of chemical imbalance and genetic disposition are pure theater, dangerous widespread too often unquestioned fiction.

I have learned this truth too painfully.

Death would be better.

Criminal Jesus Psychiatry makes me yearn for suicidal thoughts.

~ * ~

Walking around a strangely empty St. Mary Mercy voluntarily for the only time in my life, with a camera, I took photographs.

A year after my murder.

You can see them embedded inside my complete story.

I looked around the main part of the hospital, undergoing renovations (unlike like the nearly secret nuthouse portion), to see the donor wall suggesting the Felician nuns are flush with cash.

Cash which they did not invest into the looney bin portion of the hospital.

~ * ~

Most people don’t want to hear my story, which I have been telling on social media anyway since Day One, so long ago.

~ * ~

People don’t want to hear about vaginal rape.

They definitely don’t want to hear about Jesus rape, which is a phrase I spray painted on my house in Garden City, Michigan.

I was trying to gain positive media attention, if you can believe that, when I was losing the house due to the attack on my life.

A graphic artist recreated the phrase and attached it to my image.

My desperate attempt to save my life, back in 2015, may have worked in fully blue states, in New York, or California, but not blue collar Michigan.

~ * ~

A friend of the graphic artist told me she was locked up by the same nasty Livonia Catholics against need and will.

Twenty five years later, she said, at a yard sale I was throwing to raise cash, that she still had fits of rage.

I understand.

The power of my rage equals every weather event combined.

~ * ~

Mary took penis into her vagina.

There is no such thing as virgin birth.

This delusional belief is the root of modern sexism.

I was never delusional, while the Catholics refuse to be rational.

~ * ~

I believe it is fair to say the state of Michigan and the United States should TORTURE the pope for the crimes committed against me by the Livonia, Michigan Catholics.

Yes.

It was that bad.

It’s still that bad.

~ * ~

“Catholic looney bin” is an oxymoron.

~ * ~

I was locked up without evaluation.

I was shackled hand and foot.

What, because Catholics love a crucifixion?

I was knocked out and admitted while unconscious.

My anger is valid.

~ * ~

Years later, things only worse, despite my efforts.

Nothing has worked to save my life.

I’ve attracted serious retaliation, not justice or mercy.

~ * ~

Trying to hold Jesus accountable for his sins against me has condemned me in society.

The death penalty would be kinder.

~ * ~

I watched Anthony Bourdain last night on CNN.

He’s right a dude among men dead and alive, despite his suicide, which I don’t understand.

I was purposely and falsely accused of being suicidal by my employer when I was not.

No one knows who is actually suicidal.

Especially not sexist Jesus psychiatrists, both willing to human traffic in order to medical bill and unwilling to admit they made a mistake.

~ * ~

Because of my story, and its inescapable fallout, because of being broke, I am so afraid of being evicted due to lack of money.

And having to give up my valiant dog, Hunter.

And my bird, Louie, both kings.

And then leaving the place I leave them.

Then leaving the human world of shelter and food.

My actual next steps, whatever they may be.

Thinking of my swan song makes me terrified.

~ * ~

I’ve been trying to win my life back from my attackers, but instead I’ve been losing.

Instead of winning, I’ve been pushed toward those dark mysterious final steps, whatever they may be, in every step I’ve taken on this earth since I got the mail and read the letter from Land of Motown Community College, dated April 13, 2012: we’re going to call you suddenly bat-shit crazy and slowly kill you with that label.

And we powerful white men (with the help of a few women and blacks) will smile and laugh the entire time knowing we have your anti-Catholic vagina in a vice grip you can’t escape.

~ * ~

Looking ahead, as I try to avoid homelessness.

Prepare for homelessness, because it’s that close.

I can’t imagine any good future for me without any income, support or public acknowledgment for my story, which has stopped all job offers.

~ * ~

I need to stop using Facebook, Twitter and Holiday Mathis horoscopes voluntarily.

Social media has not helped end my sexist hell on earth.

There is a website called Kiwi Farms, which engages in human rights violations. I am a target.

The only people who follow me are trolls who want to inflict pain.

You can’t imagine my full spectrum of pain as a result of my full story, with criminal Jesus psychiatry at the center.

~ * ~

I need to cancel cable, for sure.

No more Turner Classic Movies for me.

Thank you, Harry and Ethel Wysocki, my dead husband’s parents, who have made this last year on Chez Earth so much more comfortable, through the sale of property up north.

Inheritance from someone else’s parents.

People I never even met.

Others who definitely deserved their parent’s inheritance instead of me.

Crazy world.

~ * ~

Prepare to say goodbye to NPR, the Freep and Google News, too, in the next weeks.

~ * ~

The human world that has not helped me so far can’t possibly help me sink further into oblivion.

~ * ~

I am not suicidal.

I was never suicidal.

I was set up.

I’ve been set up repeatedly.

Documented.

You can read my full story with documentation.

Which means little in age of Twitter length attention spans and disinformation.

~ * ~

There’s a character in Detroit real-crime lore called White Boy Rick.

As an artist, as me, words and images stick in my mind.

Sometimes I parrot.

Other times I heckle.

~ * ~

White Boy Jesus put a hatchet in your pussy.

Like me.

It’s a metaphor.

~ * ~

I can’t help it.

White boy Jesus was shoved down my throat as a child and teenager.

Then I saw the movie The Exorcist, with white boy Jesus hanging on the cross shoved up the vagina of actress Linda Blair.

~ * ~

I rejected the Catholics, but they re-captured me.

And Jesus raped the hell out of me for a week, which ended my life.

A woman of a certain age can’t defend a story like mine, not alone, and I am alone.

Don’t tell me to get a lawyer, like I have not done so.

~ * ~

In order to avoid another retaliatory nut house lock up, I am terrified of feeling the need, for the first time, to kill myself, ironically, as a victim of pernicious, unchecked, run away suicide swatting, criminal mental abuse and gangster psychiatry.

How many people can authentically describe that dilemma?

How many people are brave, stupid or desperate enough to share such a truth?

~ * ~

I am not suicidal and never have been.

I should not need to make such a defense.

But I do.

~ * ~

Once you are mislabeled suicidal, your life is over.

I have looked for the peaceful victorious exit to this story for almost eight years.

No peaceful victorious exit exists.

I am trapped in my suicide Gaslight witchhunt story, for one thing, because no one will listen to a story with Jesus as one of the bad guys.

~ * ~

I’m able to reason.

A person can’t live without money.

I certainly can’t live in my story without money.

I have been taken out of the job market, kicked out of a 100k a year tenured teaching position, and flushed down the toilet of poverty.

Homeless, it is reasonable to assume I will be locked up in jail again or another nut hatch, for more retaliatory silencing, and not allowed to scream under the overpass in pain.

~ * ~

My Larry Nassar, William MacQueen, teacher-crushing labor attorney, did this to me, ended my life, made me a leper, an outcast, a witch.

He used sexism and psychiatry like tape and scissors in the kindergarten classroom.

Murdering me was easy peasy.