Pan Handling for America

English: Uncle Sam recruiting poster.

English: Uncle Sam recruiting poster. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Jean Loring in Identity Crisis. Art by Rags Mo...

Jean Loring in Identity Crisis. Art by Rags Morales. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

English: Downtown, Concord, New Hampshire

English: Downtown, Concord, New Hampshire (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

A diminutive awareness is a unsafe thing. Hmmm. Good point! So in other words, being completely obtuse is the way to go. Better to profess a complete lack of knowledge than better one’ self with information, data, poetry, books and what not.
If one were say, papered with a diploma that professes said person had actually risen to the task of adulthood. She received the B and the F and the A…however, did not internalize one sage word or one profound belief. Furthermore, it was encouraged of her to defraud the college system by refusing to give credence to a sexual assault. Later on down the line, that lack of even the tiniest awareness inbred and manifested into a rage on and about sexual deviation, porn, sex toys and violence in the bedroom.
Again, just the smallest bit of lighting at the end of an Ambien laced tunnel may have halted the assaults, perhaps, put a dent in college age binge drinking and shed some distance between raising a child in the turn of current events instead of forcing them to always look over their shoulder for events they had no control over.
Take this now ‘young adult’ pepper her with a bad work ethic, sexual harassment of her co-workers and ask her to defraud the government. I wonder what she would say?
“No, I think I should pose nude only if I’m paying taxes like everyone else!”
Nope, wrong answer…She will continue on her decadently sedated in psychotropic medications way. Her mother who holds her dear…So dear that there is a glimpse of incest without the sex. She will encourage her, only now, and after all these years, to get the Fuck Out of the House!.
With Mother Theresa‘s approval and disownment there is no choice for this childlike adult as there isn’t with many of her generation.
As she will tell you, ‘I don’t know how to live on my own!’
In walks Uncle Sam, AmeriCorps, VISTA, FEMA and out walks a glazed over version of the diminutively unaware America. She now is a paid volunteer, oxymoron! She is now on SNAP benefits. She now is fully covered medically by the U.S. government.

In return for these vast riches that many would give an arm and a child for, the Ambien Annie’s will return home with no badge of courage. They will have not attempted the slightest bit of awareness. For even a little is asking too much. They will invade my hometown, Concord New Hampshire. They will invade your hometown. They have done their duty. They will soon be the middle aged women that insist on making Pan Handling illegal due to the unsightliness of it all. They will work to free city parks and state lands of the homeless for it brings down the value of their fine town.
It all starts with one dose of learning a little wisdom which turns into absorbing a little understanding and in the end, with diminutive awareness there will be one less mistaken identity on the street.

 

Logistically Speaking…I have nowhere to go but down

Artisanally Sharpened Pencil

Dear Mother Theresa and Father Floyd, Auburn Street, Concord NH…that is if you haven’t moved and forgot to let me know:
We have started training and I enjoy it even though the classes are pretty dull and full of common sense stuff; how to sharpen pencils, use a calculator, count without using your fingers…

Unfortunately Tuesday came and it was time to find out our FEMA job and what our new permanent team would be, as well as finding out who our new roommate would be. I was so nervous because some people here are too much to handle and I didn’t want to be stuck with them for 10 months of togetherness. We had a final goodbye dinner… It was a bummer. We all wrote good-bye poems and cards…

We finally gathered for our team.  And,  last night and I got an envelope that had a blue piece of string which meant I am in the Blue unit.  It’s a unit for ‘special’ persons with ‘special’ attention needed.

I then matched my puzzle pieces to my new teammates. We are BLUE 2: Logistics. So my job will be logistics Winchester VA., pushing paperwork for FEMA. The f-ing TEAM I hooked up with sucks…Everyone wants to drink.
I’ve been having a blast. I’m tired, though and took a shit load of meds, but I still made it for open mic night. See I knew I wasn’t an alcoholic.
Love Always, Though I’m not sure what love is-
Ambien/the Annie C Grace

if the church doesn't have to pay taxes why should I? -government employee

if the church doesn’t have to pay taxes why should I?
-government employee

Blue at the Beach

Bad Donut

Bad Donut

Ambien at the beach!
I went to the beach not too long ago…Martha’s Vineyard! Of course, that is where you would find the highest population of white on white bodies needing to get over their over fed ideas on wealth and wisdom.
Any who!
At the beach, Mother Theresa found a shell and stated to me:
Pick it up and hold it close to your one good ear, Ambien! You can hear your future in it!
I shook the water and ideas loose from my dyed to be blonde head and held the untidy shell close. Soon I would be hearing my life’s untold story!
Waiting and waiting some more. I listened intently for my up and coming events of saving the world with misspelled ‘big’ words and bequeathing the poor and impoverished one double scooped ice cream at a time. Thank Christ for an allowance.
What had my one good ear and my one soiled shell told me?
Not one fuckin’ thing! A crab scurried out, bit my ear and now I have crabs. I will never listen to Mummy or my future again!

...look Ambien, there's a whale!

…look Ambien, there’s a whale!

Ambien, Annie, Gracie thought for the day:
“A small mind is a place where there is no place to go where you shouldn’t.”

the Good Mother

We never did too much talkin' anyway

We never did too much talkin’ anyway

 

Get this: When I was young I stole, drank, pillaged and plundered…not once had the word, DISOWNMENT been mentioned.
If nothing else, my strictly Catholic without Deviation Parents embraced my Avant-Garde thoughts and my off the cuff ideals. Homosexuality? Individuality? Question Authority? All characteristics Ma and Pa New Hampshire endorsed and encouraged.
While on my tour of Ambien Grace-land this past summer, the word, DISOWNMENT had been used in over 60 messages.
All relating to Ambien’s no quite so devoted democratic Mother and her strange twist on sexual idealism.
‘My mother will disown me if she finds out I’m gay, again!’
‘That’s why I have no social life…there have already been threats of disownment with Penny.’
‘I hope you’ll understand I can’t come out to my mother right now…she’ll disown me.’

Being gay is completely against nature so it is wrong.”  via Mother Theresa, supposed Enlightened Elitist Professing these thoughts at a State University near you.

Can there be forgiveness on her part? What should a twenty two year old do with a parent like that? How dare anyone be different than a stereotypical white bread upper middle class never touched a minority in her life, Adopt-A-Mother?
I believe Mother Theresa and Ann Coulter are the same devil in unnatural fibers:
Ann Coulter, of course, was “just kidding,” no doubt, when she wrote via Twitter, “Last Thursday was national ‘coming out’ day. This Monday is national ‘disown your son’ day.”

Ha ha! Wow, that is so funny. I’m sure that the more than 100,000 homeless LGBTQ youth — who literally have been disowned and kicked out of their homes by their parents just because they are LGBTQ — are laughing.
And, I honestly believe the suicidal tendencies of closeted Young Americans would lighten up a little if they just took themselves less seriously.
What a research project this family and many others like it could be for the right extremist out of the closet after years of hatred and bigotry, lesbian!
Yet, as Ambien once said, I just have to learn to work around her and lie to her…that’s just how it is…
Putting to shame all the out lesbians, transgendered, gay men and ‘different’ not earth people everywhere!

Don’t think twice…Ambien’s, Annie’s, Gracie’s of the World…it’s alright!

It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don’t know by now
It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter anyhow
When the rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m travelin’ on
But don’t think twice, it’s all right.
It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
It’s a light I never knowed
It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe
I’m on the dark side of the road
Still, I wish there was something you could do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talkin’ anyway
So don’t think twice, it’s all right.
It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, now
Like you’ve never done before
It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, now
I can’t hear you anymore
I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road
I once loved a woman, a child, I’m told
I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don’t think twice, it’s all right.
I’m walkin’ down that long, lonesome road, babe
Where I’m bound, I can’t tell
But goodbye’s too good a word, babe
So I’ll just say “Fare Thee Well.”

I ain't saying you treated me unkind  You could have done better, but I don't mind  You just kinda wasted my precious time

I ain’t saying you treated me unkind
You could have done better, but I don’t mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time

But don’t think twice, it’s all right
Don’t think twice, it’s all right.

Mother Theresa the Martyr

...my gift unto thee... Gracie Willams

…my gift unto thee…
Gracie Willams

Ever since I can remember…my Adopt-A-Mom; Mother Theresa has been, well, how does one say it nicely? She has been the hair across my ass to which no salon will remove.
Trust me, I’ve tried. Of all the areas I which to leave blank, other than my mind and soul, my pubic arena and my since of timing, the area in most need of cleansing, Mother Theresa.
She has out and out disowned me for all the stupid mistakes I’ve made. Well, guess what Mum, I’ll probably make a shit load more.
In an attempt to be in sync with Mum, physically and sexually, I’ve asked myself the following question:
What is the greatest self sacrifice I can do for humankind?
Mother Teresa, the true martyr, accomplished many things; a self-less dedicated women in pursuit of the betterment of society. In total disregard of self, she became a beacon to many discarded and poverty stricken societal mishaps and human miscreation’s.

Mandated by mania and driven into martyrdom via trailer and it's trash.

Mandated by mania and driven into martyrdom via trailer and it’s trash.

So, I’ve thrown away my pointless education? I tossed down the shitter any attempt at originality in my folly for photo’s of dead trees. My sexual treasure map reads like Teddy Bundy’s diary and, well, I’ve just about given up on any pride from inner beauty.
Yet, I rake and I study to be a liaison to those poor unfortunates. An agent with no governing agency.
How is it then that my self sacrifice pays off my poorly directed Bachelor’s of Not so Fine Art? How is it that tax payers, poor and not quite so poor, are willing to pay for my relocation?
What the fuck? I’m confused enough about this selflessness crap!
Isn’t a society, small or large, better off, choosing it’s own particular needs? Does it not behoove Winchester Virginia, the Bronx or Anywhere, Impoverished, USA; to make those decisions for themselves?
And, didn’t I read in my sloppy way somewhere that FEMA on a whole is an over fed canker sore wrapped around US debt? Didn’t we really make a mess of things in the last two disasters?
I sit at a desk on occasion and listen to old and young hippies wanting to make me a seedling from their blooming righteous flower. I sit and don’t comprehend half of what I read. I have a learning disorder for Christ‘s sake. I meander and study over righteous thoughts and think, I have no single minded purpose and I am an addict who is unwilling to let go.
I don’t pay taxes. Or, at least, I don’t think I do. Father Floyd takes care of that for me. But if I did, I’d be pissed that martyrdom isn’t taxed!
Peacefully Yours-
Ambien, not by the Grace of God, Grace!