C is for Children

Day 3 of the #AtoZchallenge is brought to you by the letter C and the number 39.

I went back and forth between just talking about children, or something else, but I have something to say here. Children are delightful, miraculous, and resilient little idiots.

Are you triggered yet?

I run a parenting group oriented towards diet and lifestyle. It’s infuriating. I also work in the exploitation field, rescuing kids from monsters. That’s heart wrenchung and disgusting. Having 2 kids that, to date, are not complete assholes, I think all qualify me to have an opinion on child rearing.

Children are resilient. I’ve seen first hand, and through anecdotal reporting, story after story of toddlers surviving in the wilderness, kids defeating kidnappers, teens overcoming nightmare lives. Look around you. You are probably close to more than a few peoole that survive atrocious treatment as a child and still went on to be a normal functioning humans. Kids are fucking amazing animals. We can thank their underdeveloped frontal lobes for all of that.

That is, in part, why we make decisions for them til they reach physical and emotional maturity. Allowing these id driven sociopaths to dictate terms is very dangerous. Don’t kid yourself, your 3 year old is no more capable of deep love and affections than Jeffrey Dahmer. At this age, they simply know what side their bread is buttered on. Their behaviors are intended to be conditioned responses to ensure their own survival… at least they should be. We’ve turned a corner where we allow them to drive our lives and chase the highs of sugar, electronics, and control.

We’re finally seeing what this kind of permissive parenting is producing. Beyond making a generation of sheep that all but volunteer to be victims of monsters, we have ended up with grown toddlers that cannot handle being denied. Rather than learning how to function in an existing world, they’ve grown accustomed to molding everyone to their will. They fall prey when they fail to get what they want and turn to outsiders that make promises that cannot be kept… I’m looking at you Bernie Sanders and human traffickers.

The good news is, the newer generations that effing hate being forced to dodge predators in bathrooms, get called bigots by blue haired whales, or have to clean up the pieces of a broken family are reproducing and trying to fix it. You can do your part by bringing back traditional values, turning off the devices, and telling your kids the truth. No one cares about their opinion. Feelings are not facts. If they want to be heard, they need to earn their audience with hard work, patience, reason, and maturity.

If you’re concerned that this “heavy handed” approach will screw them up, I’ll defer to my original example. I’ve seen many overcome much worse, thanks to the developmental miracle of deflated frontal lobes. It really cannot be worse than not parenting them at all.


B is for Books

I’m on tap to help on a couple different writing projects, but find myself utterly distracted. It makes me wonder if , like everything else, technology has ruined the, once, proud and elite title of “author.”

I am hard pressed to consider some of the self published sludge to be much more than digital neurosis or self delusion. Kind of like those singers that have youtube channels and consider themselves professional entertainers. Yeah, we got Christina Grimmie, but we also got that Asian guy that is so bad that he got famous. *cough* Fifty Shades *cough*

Anyhow, yesterday, was day 2 of a 100 day goal. It has nothing to do with books, but I’ll be tracking my progress and plan by hand, just to get back to my own roots or venting my creativity on paper first. The process makes me more discerningnof what I write, keeps me from pushing on when I’m tired, and if I really like it, I can type it later. That’s a vital step, that I think is missing for a lot of people.

Day 3 of my 100 day goal is today. Today’s “microaction” is planning out 2 weeks worth of daily activities, and finding my keycard for the gym. Wish me luck!Screenshot_20180331-083116

A is for April Fool’s Day

A friend reminded me of the #AtoZchallenge. Year after year, I forget or find out too late. Don’t ask me how, but “write something daily in April” is actually quite difficult to remember. I wish I could say that the timing aligning with Eastertide would provide great content ideas, but the reality is, I’m just not that creative.

Day one is the Letter A. Being the creative genius that I am, the topic invariably will be about April Fools….


On April 1 we celebrate 2 things. First, our children’s liberation from the public school system. Second, our affinty for a good joke.

I say “liberation”, because I view the confines of institutional learning to be particularly opressive and limiting. Yes, I know there are good schools and great teachers and all that, but not here.

The last IEP meeting I attended, for my autistic son, had me pitted [alone] against 11 representatives from the district, including a Sheriff’s Deputy, lawyers, social workers, and administrators I’d never heard of. All because my husband and I refused to accept that our child’s full potential had already been met. We’d been urged to consider long term planning for him and to stop fighting for tutoring and services. His “educational impairment” was too significant to overcome with special ed. He would never be independent, employable beyond menial tasks, or able to take care of himself.

With glowing support like that, who wouldn’t take their kids out of school? We figured that if he was beyond help, we couldn’t screw up any worse than doing nothing. If nothing else, he’d be relieved of the daily stress and emotional toll that attending school put on him.

Our younger son was at the other end of the spectrum… literally. He’s brilliant and social but getting questioned and punished daily, by his school principle, destroyed his work ethic. By the end, even his teacher wasn’t coming to work. His behavior was out of control and nothing I said or did helped.

Mind you, my o

Mind you, my autistic son got his share of maltreatment too. At one point, we learned he’d been placed in a closet to think, then forced to wear a “tattletale hat.” They excused this because his tattling had become disruptive. Tattling on what? Kids stealing, fighting, saying bad words…

Anyhow, we got them out and started detox at home. It only took a few weeks to get our old happy kids back. In the 8 years since, my older son was properly diagnosed with a form of atypical autism, caused by a genetic deletion. With the right help, his IQ was measured at nearly double the school’s guesstimates. With the right therapies and diet, he is completely mainstream and functioning above his age group.

My younger son recently discovered rocket science, and is switching his studies from criminal justice to physics and math. He gets to chat with astronauts online and our proximity to NASA has him up close and personal with the real deal. Overall, I think celebrating today is worthwhile.

As for April Fools… well, I like a good joke now and then. Like the time I changed my mom’s stock hub caps for chrome ones… with clip on spinners. Or the time she asked me to advertise a fundraiser at her store. Unbeknownst to her, I advertised it as a Hula themed event… old people really did show up scanilty clad. Of course, I don’t need a holiday for a good joke, but I view today as a great day to look back on them fondly. Let’s see your jokes!

I stand with Corey

I remember the first time my dad told me about the evils of pedophilia and child predators. At the time, I could never imagine what made him tell me that day. It was perfect. I was maybe 9 years old. We were sitting out on the picnic table, stargazing, talking about his youth. He sobered and says, “Kimberly, do you know about the wolves?”  I was still cheery from a story about a lhasa apso and neighbor child.  “No, what wolves?”A tiny piece of my youth ended that night.  He didn’t talk in euphemism or gentle terms. He told me what darkness looked like, what it wanted, how it hid. “I don’t care if it’s a friend, a teacher, or the president, there is not a threat or force on Earth more powerful than me. You know that. So, when I give you permission to say or do whatever you need to, you will never be in trouble for protecting yourself… or anyone else…”

When he trailed off he was looking down at our neighbor’s house. My best friends lived there. Two little girls. That pause and his quiet darkness, still makes me so sad. He was a superhuman force of nature. My daddy was everything he promised, but he couldn’t be everywhere. He had to give me some of his superpowers.

It wasn’t planned, but tonight, I had to tell my kids almost the same thing. They’ve always been told to speak up and get help. Because of my work, they have been told about grooming and certain types of deviants. Yesterday, my son saw what happens when no one around them has been told… given permission to fight to protect themselves. Or maybe, they weren’t even taught to recognize danger. So much paraphilia has been normalized and celebrated, it’s hard to tell.

“You will never ever be in trouble for confrontation. Use your tools. Speak up. If you say it, the other kids around you will know it’s okay to fight too! You are stronger than you know. And no consequence from a bunch of administrators could ever be worse than what will happen to your body or your soul, if you do nothing.” In a lot of ways, I know that this won’t make our kids invincible, but we can’t be everywhere.  All we can do is share our superpowers with them.

If you’ve been reading long, you can probably guess that my kids think I inherited my dad’s mantle of superhuman force of nature. I can’t let them down. As adults, we’re not released from that obligation or permission to stand up and be vocal when we see evil. It won’t always work. We’ll be met with opposition, ignorance, and complacency, but we still have to keep fighting. I think that’s why the trafficking world found me. My dad never gave me permission to quit fighting. I’ll never give it to my kids.

So, when I see a survivor speak out, I have to be sure they know they’re not alone. Corey Feldman grew up in a world of institutional rape and vile atrocity. Compared to stories of the survivors I’ve met from Appalachia, take out the glitz factor, and their stories are so similar. Day after day, he and his costars were subjected to casting couches, passed around parties, plied with drugs and booze, and when they get too old, thrown out.  He survived. The same can’t be said for all his contemporaries. He’s probably been drowning in the survivor’s guilt forever.

I’ve spent my whole life watching child stars fall, crash, fade. I’m not surprised by the current Hollywood shake-up. When it’s not on some heart rending “where are they now” interview, you can see the open secret being broadcast in the movies these criminals make. Don’t believe me? Watch Scream 3.  Weinstein isn’t the only guy from the credits that is being called out for rape and abuse.

What IMDB is too polite to spoil is that Sidney Prescott’s mom was an actress that got raped at a casting party (apparently, she was told to expect it) which caused a pregnancy, that produced a serial killer. From there, said psycho was unleashed on a 3 film killing spree.  This, concluded with the murderer going after of a bunch of actors, that were also exploited for sex so they could get in the very movie that would be their doom. There’s a literary term for what that is, but I just see it as open bragging.

Still not convinced? He and Corey Haim talked openly about it in 2007 and 2008. Then, the ladies of The View (Bawbwa particularly) blew him off.  This is another interview from 2013. How hypocritical, that when a man cries rape, no one gives a shit?


If Corey wants to make this film and do what no talkshow host or publisher has been willing to, let’s make it happen. I’m not completely selfless.  I hope that this will help fight trafficking and exploitation too. I figure, we have to cut off demand and  demand isn’t limited to powerful Hollywood types and politicians. This might put a pretty decent dent in it.

One last thing. Watch the video I link to for “bawbwa”. Look at her body language and dismissive gesture when he says “People want me dead. People do not want me here.” I remember her interviewing Anne Heche during a psychotic break. Bawbwa kept a sympathetic and interested face, the whole time the actress talked about how she was a 4th dimensional being. But she couldn’t muster a shoulder pat for a man she’s known since he was 14? If that’s not a clue….


My street name is….

“Mood Killah”

I wrote a great blog about meeting a woman at the hospital yesterday, but as my mind wandered and I just kept ‘talking’, something changed. This really didn’t go the direction I thought it would. I found myself wondering if the abolitionists of the past, looked at the 13th Amendment and shrugged, “Great only 376 more things to figure out.” Did they feel suffocated by the amount that still needed to be done?

I *think* I’d be embarrassed to go back in time and tell them what we did with their hard work. “We have more slaves than ever. We pretend we don’t. Our country prefers children. There’s actually growing movement to make child slavery legal. It’s even sanctioned and encouraged by one of the fastest growing/spreading religions in the world. There are more laws protecting that religion than protecting our kids. Sorry we suck at emancipation. But bruh, the quotes look really cool in memes. *winky face*”…. cause I emoji when  talk now.

I’ve often fantasized about Mary Shelley crashing the Women’s March with an entourage of monsters. But, much like abolition, I’d be sad and ashamed to tell her, Eleanor Roosevelt, or Susan B. Anthony that everything they ever fought for has be castigated to ensuring that women be permitted kill the unborn and be as raunchy, promiscuous, and vile as any of the worst males society has to offer, yet ensure they are treated like the best.

I guess today is a little cloudy for me.  The sun will come out tomorrow… tomorrow…

Now, I don’t even like the article I wrote, so  here’s the content I was going to hyperlink and the last paragraph that sent me down the path.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

Truthfully, I find it a pollyanna idea and a fruitless endeavor.  Take a look around. What do we do with those kids after we identify them?  Obviously, they need to be followed up with, to figure out if they’re victims or have other issues.  Then, if they need counseling and services?  What if they need to go to fostercare? What if they need inpatient care? We can’t even meet the needs of the few kids we do know about. How do we handle them when they are identified in droves? Any one care to look up the adults that were busted in the FBI’s latest sweep?  I do every time. Misdemeanors and outstanding warrants. Federal beefs are rare. What hope do we have of ensuring the kids we identify will actually be protected?  Their abusers locked up for eternity?….

Calling it like I see it…

Two years ago, I was incensed at the murder of a retired Army paratrooper, turn police officer. The suspect was a convicted felon that had just finished a nickel for another murder. After paying his debt to society, he immediately robbed a bank in my area, then went on a cross country crime spree that cost Daniel Webster his life and ended with the suspect being shot in San Diego.  The suspect survived.

My abolitionist spirit was in its infancy, but this sense of outrage at criminals being returned to our communities and exposing them to our youth really grabbed me.  We have a gang problem here. It’s not Chicago or LA., but they still manage to do a lot of killing and violence over turf and rap videos. It’d be nice if we stopped sending these thugs for what equates to criminal summer camp and boarding school.  They come back with better contacts and a little more hair on their chests, ready to teach the kids.  I kinda wish they’d do a convict swap program with places like Utah or Montana…. Panama.

Anyhow. I was upset, as I do. I wrote a lengthy facebook post (original) which received zero likes or comments from my very small friend list. I know facebook hides my posts from feeds because the words I use trigger their algorithm, but it didn’t take the sting out of being the only person I know that was so upset. I’ve had a couple years and found plenty of people to join me. I also expanded my outrage to include sex offenders and traffickers.

If you’ve been paying attention, sex offenders have been gaining ground in California, winning their right to have contact with children on Halloween. They’re also aimed at “reforming” the registries. They say laws limiting commerce and housing for men and women who are convicted of victimizing and brutalizing, are “unfair.” That’s really the tip of the iceberg. California is not the only place. I’ve seen a lot of chatter out East too.

Which brings me back to my original point, “Why are we putting dangerous criminals back into our communities?” I’ve already gotten hate mail and attacks for my unerring conviction that these people cannot be reformed or controlled, unless they are contained… permanently. Shockingly, their strongest defenders are single mothers and middle aged men.

In the age of Weinsteins and Clintons, you all should be asking why our legislators are making life easier for these monsters, while ignoring the very real pandemic of child exploitation? How on Earth do predators have a voice in our government?…. Oh wait…

I do encourage you to click the links for “California”, “tip,” and “Iceberg”. If  you’re not sure what you should be doing right now? 1)Turn off entertainment that is sexually exploitative. 2) Double check the registries where you live, work, and shop. Stay away from their houses. 3) Read the following posts from my work blog to catch up on the missing child and exploitation world. 4) Google the subject and keep learning. Be a mouthpiece for emancipation.

My first speaking tour  post, discussing human trafficking. Has links to other resources.

– Finding Kids Is Hard  The ins and outs of the civilian missing persons racket.
How to Join an Organization How to vet non-profits to avoid drama.
How to Help Without Joining  Things you can do to combat exploitation or ignorance, without joining a club.

If you really just want to have a teary eyed moment… This is basically the moment that catapulted me from pundit and lukewarm advocate to ABOLITIONIST.

Complicated Dolls Are Complicated

And possibly aliens

I just caught wind of the first “transgender” doll. At a glance, it’s a lovely dark haired girl with flowing locks, penetrating eyes, and no indication of her inner turmoil at her cosmically mistaken genitalia. Though, she does look a little sad.


I read further to learn that she is actually a he and designed after a youtube personality named Jazz Jenkins. Jazz is a boy who identifies as a “normal girl.”  The doll itself is anatomically neutral, in the way all dolls are, but is female.

I am a little confused by this. My inner cynic thinks this is a marketing ploy by a struggling collector doll company (Tonner Toys) to gain relevance amid a world of Barbies and American Girl Dolls.

For the sake of argument, let’s assume it’s not a stunt. At one point dolls were, foremost, intended to allow young children to model the behaviors of parents and enact role play scenarios.  The doll only manifested the emotions, personality, history, and behaviors the child imparted.  This, in turn, aided them to cope with real life and live out fantasy after fantasy. Barbies had set names, but fifty years of sales had taught Mattel not to pigeon hole the kids, so the kids could pick the careers and lives their dolls lived.

My dolls all had marker tattoos, were routinely in the hospital, wrestled bears, and dressed like Tank Girl. I got to pick their names, usually made their clothes or ruined the ones that came with them, and loved immersing myself into this alternate world.  If you cannot tell, I was a bit odd and a tom-boy as a child.  From age 4 til now, I’ve always felt more comfortable rooting around in dirt with animals and doing stuff a little different, than sitting prim and sipping tea.

I bring this up because today’s kids don’t get quite the same thing.  We give kids dolls with an entire legend.  Books, movies, shows, and more tell us the doll’s name, history, and even their favorite things. The only decision left to the child to decide is what outfit to put on her. They can even get one to match! The idea was that the doll would teach history and some back handed morality.  I’ve seen some of these crunchy granola moms fawn over the things. “She’s a WWII survivor…”  or “She’s an immigrant…”

No.  No she’s not.  She’s a doll.

It’s not just girls’ imaginations being squashed either.  When was the last time you bought a generic set of legos?  Yeah, they have them on the top shelf behind the Duplos. But, now, the thing to get ae sets, that match the shows, that match the movies, that match the games… It’s a thing.

Anyway, we’ve reached a time in our collective history where letting a child be who they want, appears to be the top priority in the country. (My parents managed back in the olden days when there were two sexes and smoking was cool.) Yet, we typecast our kids with these cookie cutter toys that thwart imagination; and we call it “education and values.”

Insert trans-doll.  Firstly, to be “trans” one must be of one sex and long/feel/identify as another.  Whether you think there are 2, 3, 38, or 62 genders is not really at play.  This statement applies to everyone.  This doll is female.  It may be crafted after a boy who identifies as a girl, but the doll is female.  The thing that would make the doll “trans” beyond adding anatomy or it being sentient enough to “feel” like a girl, is writing out the doll’s history, likes, etc.  So, that brings us back to hijacking imagination.

I am not an expert on toy therapy or kids, but it seems that handing a child [that is struggling with identity and emotions] a trans-labeled doll and saying, “this is what your are,” is super unhealthy and problematic.  More so, if you actually believe there are 62 variants of gender?  I would have thought that the more apt doll for these kids would be a generic blank slate, label free, and choice of clothings etc.  Then, let the kid pick, name, and create a story themselves.  Isn’t that what these parents are trying to accomplish?

OR… maybe I’m just really cynical of anything that appeases rabid liberals. The more pink-hats that support it, the more likely I am to think they’re being tricked.  Next month, they’ll have hijab wearing dolls that come with their own flogging stick and Noble Quran. Yay freedom.

If you would like to learn more about the research into desistance and persistence of gender dysphoria, this is the most balanced article I’ve seen, with very honest critiques of the research and outcomes.  I know I promised aliens… just use your imagination.