Friday, August 1, 2014

One thing never changes....

As I reflect back over a tumultuous lifetime on record, meaning I can remember or think I do anyway, I sometimes fall into this pit, rut, or nut up thinking about my current status.


Is it too hot?


Should I shower?


What will I eat?

What does that cost?


Then and as if I suddenly understand I could care less about these necessary evils, and the only thing keeping me ticking is that I feel at some point I will be able to carefully, considerately, compassionately deliver my message.


Clearly I cannot go forth and play the game of the world is right as rain, just a tough run. Bull to bologney, I will spread the truth as best I can, practicing every day.


I'm a mocking bird, and my words sting the whole hive when I hit these high notes. It's not a  matter of meaness. I regret having been mean, said a mean word, cast a bad thought. My whole core revolves around a happiness, improvement, and an ideal of hold firm to truth.


Problem is that language is one of the shackles. This verbal intent on my part is only going to scatter fire and hoping open hearts have room for some more of the pieces.


The language and the depth, ambiguity, are programs for living. And dying. And torturing, tormenting...but also tickling, laughing, owning, choosing, creating could be written.


Without a clear communication it would be quite unlikely we could become one tribe of creative generators, making this ghastly gamey shamebulls, into a new original vantage point, may take patience and understanding.


I had anger. Human hissing, foaming anger. Cruelty, is unpleasant in any form. I don't look away. I can't look away. But I have the same weapons and could employ them too. Never changes that I realize I am not going to nor do I forget the times I did use it.


I have so many vantage points that clearly I see every but what is under my own nose.


I'm also a diligent word warrior, or as I have described "Verbavoire." I don't have many average characteristics, I don't clean, or do windows, and I never look down on those who are down.


But My message is that I care to communicate and continue challenging those who take it less than seriously that there is a change on the herverizon. Many of us out here are charging up our souped up communications and the revving is causing some stir.


I note a fearful sense in and around me, but that is what happens when I fear what is possible or even probable. " A force that created a prison for me." And on the inside and out. Not clever, cool, or respectable, but a negative force, holding back it's power mongering.


Others display their pay check to actors union income, dual and more, but I do suffer to offer real critical information on this circus of the anti-matter. It hurts, it's a conditioned, amnesiatic lie machine on every level.


Sad, as I have so many better ideas, and meet people all the time beaming with potentials and have yet to bring it forward.


Where's the technology? Where's the fun? Where's the love?


Who de-created everything?


More questions than answers. And stomach discomfort because of the gaps.


My current "status" is "introspective." I want to know what is ticking me off and making me tick.


And making me sick....lol


But one thing never changes.................No unexamined life is worth living-Socrates



Tuesday, July 29, 2014

I didn't know I could moon dance and other things....

I've decided to do a long historical, and nightmarish run thru of my last two plus years, but I realize it started for me from the beginning.


I never had a good singing voice, nor could I dance to any rhythm but that of drunken piano players. Suddenly I have latent talents that I find fun and interesting.


As I have described, my time in the Kern River Valley has  now been spent being picked up by local law enforcement and taken to jail. Doesn't matter, the intoxication, I was put in over night for speaking with an English accent.


Cheers! as we know this can be dangerous to the community. It may inflict a certain unknown and incorrection inflection into speech. Others may be come concerned if you cannot identify where that accent originates from.


So, it is, the life of an idiot bi polar American.


I came here because, as a do gooder, I thought I could help build a community thru the communication tool of journalism.


In 2006, I found out people in the local hospital were lying to me in articles and right out there on the front page of our local Sun. I guess I could not even imagine doing it, and gave them more credit than they had do, but it was on my part a simple tool to help them get info to their customers.


They used that good will and almost had a 12 million dollar bond. It was my word they used to purchase that trust and in the end, I found a sad, sick, healthcare system right under the noses of all who ran it and used it.


Elder abuse kept me awake at night as I found I was unable to stop it or even identify it. I guess I could  not understand such cruelty so therefore did not see it.


But at this point in time, I want to see me, my track record and head to the task of writing my story,"Unacceptable behavior."


It appears honest intentions are not allowed in this world. In fact, as I have skimmed over, trust and compassion are a real slight frosting on the shit cake this world stands for.


Now is a time I have nothing but a cracked heart, eager even for hope that there is a decent soul left on this plane.


I"ll contine to turn this language on it's side until it rolls some better numbers and gathers better members. Humans have come so far as to hold me to the most oppressive situation, but I don't hold too long.


Really we as a humanity, and or false front, have created wonderful homes that use staples and paper to put together: a mobile home. Wow. We could use some of our patent office leftovers. What is next a contractors license to put together spit and staple homes for the nobodies, just to get them off the street.


More truth. That is if the police leave me on a keyboard long enough to tell a balanced story. I'll just moon dance right to the keyboard...lol....I love good surprises.


Soo...nnnnnn

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Testing my own worth:The Bi-polar American

I guess it's been as far back or projected forward in my future plans, a glitch. That is that I don't seem to care much for myself. I'd rather not have to choose as there doesn't seem to be anything listed that I want.

There are core issues, what is me after losing all my belongings my house, my voting rights, my labels that appeared timeless, that I am sorting thru with a heavy heart.

Missing are the people I love so much, they are my top priority. But the only way is thru the wall into me. Into loving me, liking me.

It all seemed so useless, I have been told repeatedly that I have failed on some or another level. Nothing is quite right about me according to the world looking in at me. I jump the hoops and still don't make the mark.

Thirty years I didn't do drugs as I saw people become addicted and sad cases, so I avoided it. Then I try it and I'm labeled a felon now because I tried to see it for what it was.

It was not a problem I get bored with everything, but it was a choice to try it.

Judging myself was a full time job, as I never manage to get it where others see I should go. I have felt blind all my life, deaf to the call, but wild with hope that there would be better. Now I'm the one  who has to make me better.

How to do this is a true search for my own meaning here. I don't get it. But I'm looking for it. Me. I see that I really enjoy sharing with others tales of stupidity, success, the experiences. Writing or story telling would certainly be my bent.

Bards would tell their stories, histories, myths roaming from town to town. A renewal of this sort of personal sharing is part of what I yearn for.

I realize I haven't been able to even get my first podcast going...WTF? I have been waiting years to get the technology, but it was not available in Weldon, the former home of my former house. 

Maybe a new way, it's a new day. I'm creating the best I can, and outside of this, is more...

There are people who are afraid I may say something or do something out of the ordinary.

Duh.

But that is what I do. It's time for break in the fast of those who choose to avoid those of us who are different and damn good reason. 

What am I worth, just money or what makes me a value? My humor in the face of fierce opposition to my fun and chocolate side. Laughter really does heal me.

But it's time to shore up to the money side of value as they are all included. Not much left, but I have untapped resources and talents.

First up though  is to put some dinner on the plates and tend to the pets.

More on my worth....

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Squatters and vandals...

Hello,

It's been a while since I felt my fingers on a key board. It's been even longer since I have had a computer that has not been stolen from me.

Update is that I am out of the car style living, now into my completely destroyed home, where my parrot SKy and I live in squalor.

The team of Macaws and effects have been a moto-roost for a couple months now. Sky nutted up at the end, she's lonely. She has such good drug detecting qualities she could be used at an airport and I'm sure they would give her a cut. lol

Walter, Dukeskywalter, will hopefully be in our stead tomorrow. Then the three amigos will head toward the coast as the house is up for sale and claims to insurance are in order. Our next step I'm hoping for some times with good people, a new computer, and a room in a comfortable, creativity inspiring home.

I"m sure whatever needs to happen will be next. In the mean time, I keep going, Sky is resting her weary mobile bird head, and I go get our Boxer buddy from the desert.

More as the team returns together looking for another home on the coast with friends.


Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Awakening the bi polar behind the walls

I've been describing the separation that continues to keep good people apart and in errant miscommunication. Constantly acting and jumping thru hoops of financial  ill design.

I"ve been tracking and logging my record of truth, whether it makes me look good or not, it's what has to be for me to carry on. I need to know where I am on the map before I can get to a destination.

For the last two months I have trusted others who have ripped off my possessions, stolen my house away, ruined my reputation, tampered with  my car, and basically set me up to be taken to jail by the Sheriff's department.

My car windows broken, car towed away, mace sprayed in my face, beaten up by law enforcement, but set upon standing again to walk the walk I have spoken of: Truth erring on the side of compassion leading to a free way to our real inheritance.

But I am back again to report I have lived in my car, seen the terrible nature of living in poverty, but still say it is the system, not this sister who only wishes to embrace a common wealth for us all.

To do this, I have looked at the language and found it is just more shackles and tricks. My eyes and ears are rigged by something to elude the things you others take for granted that you actually see and hear. It is a sensory shackle that has to be constantly manually corrected by me.

Anger almost overtook me, but I guarantee my real core is not seething it is breathing in more love and light, mixing it up so that I can be more effective. And less used by the angry torrents, more so blending them into my softness which is also at the core of my being.

I have felt a code and a song, and talents I never even considered I had. Always told I was wrong, or no to anything that questioned the common held beliefs, I am here on this day to say NO to those who have hidden their cruelty, torture, and cowardice.

Continue to beat a path to the front door, and want it opened to be truly free.

My truth only helps me understand more about what is happening. I will continue to share on facebook and the google community. And this blog is open to the public.

TAke care and would love to publish sincere submissions on this blog. I have books, "the Chronicles of the bipolar reporter, and "unacceptable behavior" to finish writing and publish so that anyone has access to the truly absurd world around us. And within some of us.

More to follow....

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

REmembering The Will and the way:sick degrees of separation

Wehn I was about 11, my sister and I were wating on my parents to select a Christmas tree. We chose to stand in front of some horses in a corral, and possibly pet these creatures.

My sister slipped away to pick some flowers while I whole heartedly went up to the fence to call these horses to come over to me. I grabbed the fence with both hands, and suddenly had my self stuck on an electric wire.

I was aware that I was sizzling with this power, but my grip was on this grid and my muscles were frozen out of my control. I seemed to suddenly have 360 degree vision, I could see my sister a few yards away, back turned. And the horses were backing away too.

I tried to remember the safety classes, taught to stay away from live wires, but it served no purpose. I lost track of time, my fear, just a roadmap of ideas of how to end my saddled soap opera of feeling caught and helpless.

Within a few replays, I gave up all the advice and warnings I had on record and went for full throttle will power. I focused my own laser tag on the right hand holding a hot line of separation. i kept that open communication with my limb, commanding it to release. Actually, the words I screamed silently to my body was "LET GO."

I urged the hand to pull off as I owned my fisticuff linked to the power usurpers linr deliniation. There was some focus pocus but I won. Suddenly I was airborne backward onto the ground, free of charge.

I got really angry, at both the horses and my sister for not aiding my helpless condition. Or I assumed helpless. But really I had the master switch and I only needed to know how to turn off the surge protecting the urge to give up to the forces between me and these horses.

Today I know I should be angry at the fence poster child for keeping kids from ponies and Fonies are internally and eternally a habitual response.

Who knows how many times I was surging in the control of the keeper of separations, distancing us from our own power.

Will it to be....And It will be.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Don't die or just lie in the ground....

Hello,
Maybe for the last time, but I'm out of jail, on the way to do nothing good I'm sure. LOL

On probation for 3 years in Kern County because I had my car sabotaged,  money stolen, all my belongings gone to sad sacks of shit who play for themselves.

It's going to get even worse for the badly played,. I"m going to relax for a week, then be bored, but know that I care about all of you. I've written these blogs: KVHD under FIRE, Your Government your problem: an owners manual, and The bipolar American, for all of us.

REad it or not, but I've had enough being the last to know, the first to see, the only one pointing out the flaws in all of this.

I forgive the creator of this horror called life, but I can't go along for the not so thrill ride.

You can at any time opt out and I suggest you should. If your driving a new car, sitting in a house, with heat or cool, then your a sell out. IF you think this helps protect your family, surprises await your perilous conditions.

I'm sorry, I only have what I have which is me? What is me? A love, a sensitive caring soul who would never hurt for the sake of hurting. I will die again and again, but if you don't notice it, what's the point. I've been dead before and you think it's the end?

Get ready to see the dead walk back into their jobs their homes, the hospitals, the nursing homes, they are here and ready for a repeat performance of the worst creation ever experienced.

If you n eed a picker upper, think of me, I'm always a friend to those with heart and soul. And my house is not a home, my home is near and I will welcome all who can handle the truth.

Let there be love and light days to come, right ways to go, and good folks to feel.

Love to all. Laura

Monday, March 10, 2014

What does an american expect when being put in Jail? A phone call. After 3 weeks, day of court, mississing my family, my court appointed attorney gave me that call.
You don't expect to get your rights. TAken a face full of mace, fire without the melting, but equally hot but not easy to get out.
Can't panhandle in Kern County as I was only asking for help.
Got trespassing, delaying an officer, and apparently a bag full of drugs in my pant pocket. that gets you a 10K bail.
There are people so harassed in there, and the torture was wonderful.
But I endured and plead out to these charges, but now I can't vote. I vote to stop the vote without all who have not enough money to really get legal help. Lots of women trying to get back to their children. Cages are not for bi polar americans, or dogs or cats and birds need to fly.
Stay safe as the side of law enforcement wants to keep their jobs.
Borrowing a pain pill from a neighbor can cost you $10,000 in bonds.
Heads up, and I'll be trying to get to my animals ASAP as no one knew where I was or what to do.
Americans, we are the TERRORISTS and they have our kids.
Ltoday, bail out the system, call them, keep this show of support started. AS I am predicting they will try to bring me in again too.
Aunt Laura

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Sick Degrees of Separation....Part one

As I get ready to exit my homeless car lifestyle, wipe off the marker and make a new start of it, I'm reminded that I must overcome the sick degrees of separation to get my message heard.

Yes, you may think you've heard it all, but trust me, you have not.

Everything a wall, is not an idea unfamiliar to those who read this blog. There are two other blogs which will continue as a spillway of information along with a series of short but robust thoughts on our current condition, and "Cuntditioning."

My first foray into street fighting writing, KVHD Under Fire, the perky and original blog dedicated to the game of old age pyramid scam bucks and life and torture itself. Elder abuse and murder. Brought to you by the "nobody cares" not Obama, certainly not California Governor, Jerry Brown--community as there are discounts for being old and not advantages.

Yes, I'm over 50 but just around the mountain but not over a hill full of holes in it's story.

www.kernvalleyhospital.blogspot.com

GEneratioN Gaps:

We can hardly remember or understand each other, as we have a language full of shackles, and generations of those who claim not to understand each others motivations and intentions. There is arrogance, Fear, and hopelessness, to trek thru to get to the other side.

Simply put we are sick from trying to communicate.

When I write, I write with my intended message. The reader, the reciever, has a whole list of reasons not to hear my hard, dark messages, couched in humor. And there is not much, except for repeated, rephrased, louder, clearer, writing that I can do to acheive a re pore with my friends, family and fellow prison mates.

But add a generation, a whole group of those who have lived and breathed rules, regulations, ideas of their formation, and you have a real challenge.

I'm getting ready to challenge it all, and my message is patience. lol

For me, this is big. But I truly care about what I am attempting to transmit and it is worth my effort.

CAN YOU HEAR ME?

Hope so.

Aunt Laura

Thursday, January 16, 2014

The newest Mascot: God B lessed America

Aunt Laura to Uncle Sam: It's time....
It is time to start thinking what it truly means to wear the stripes and stars. I am the free thinker only if I give up thinking. I am the model if I intend to walk the talk of the cock of the walk.

So, to those who truly have given up everything to play a game of "fake economy" I genuinely refer to as "Boring for dollars the Pyramid scam" I am in the game too. I have a job, it's being the kind Aunt to those who have been ripped off and apart trying to manage a shell game whose board is slanted to the side of those with no interest in anything but themselves.

No way, I am interested in playing for us all. I don't want for needing, but have recently been taken for every item I ever "thought" I owned. I own nothing on a dicey gamble called life. But found myself living in my car with the weary remnants.

We have been kicked in the teeth, our memories of a good dream, a good life, all haunting us now.

There are books to be written, and I'm continuing to write my fair share.

It's now time for Uncle Sam to meet and marry his new mail order Bride: Aunt Laura.

More to follow....



Monday, December 30, 2013

The Bi-polar American in the OC, Delighted

Hanging out in Orange County, California is full of mystery and excitement. Not really. It's rather bland as each suburb looks like the other. It's easy to get lost because of the lack of identity the place seems to have.

What stands out for me is the train track everyone rides. Residents jog or walk along the cement side walks off major streets ignoring the exhaust wafting at them at rush hour. The reoccurring fast food establishments. The bi-lingual signage. A college which hosts a major swap meet on the weekends. The same family park on every corner.

How do the ducks know where to park?

New Year:

This year is different. Done.

No, it's going to be a blazer as it's an election year, and I elect to continue to not just talk truth, but shout it, sing it, gargle it-whatever it takes is the motto. Protesting, petitioning, and propagating fair play are on the schedule.

Several new stories or continuations will appear shortly after I, ehem, (clearing throat) deal with the computer problems which started last year with Hughes Net. Pradman Kaul CEO of Hughes Nest, took one on the chin on my other blog: Your Government Your Problem: an Owners manual.

There are many blogs to write, much ado with the current adornment, hand written, on the 5150 mobeel I drive around with a sense of myself. Who else writes with markers on their car? If you know someone else please do let me know as they must be a kindred spirit.

Upcoming Titles:

Sick Degrees of Separation
The Good, the Bad, and the Unrepentent.
Social Security: the oxymoron

More to follow....Laura Hart The Bi-polar American







Monday, December 16, 2013

The Bi-Polar American in the OC-Delighted

A month ago, I set out from "festering wound" which is what I call the Kern River Valley, the area being invaded by politicians who have named the area unsafe because of a dam which they are supposedly replacing. But as I have described on this blog these problems are so deep as the water is murky, and local residents have not a clue what these Sacra-meanto leaders will be doing next.

My foray finds me in the Orange County area where I grew up, in fact, staying right behind the house my family lived in.

It's been a trying month, I can only describe it as akin to the Meet the Fockers movie. I wrecked my friends car, almost took out her new washer with my comforter wrapping around and choking the machine then went onto spill a dark colored soda onto the mattress staining it permanently. And wrapping up my accident file, apparently it's not common to have guests in the neighborhood drawing and writing on their car.

I apologized profusely, as we do when things are so over the top. My friend of forty years has forgiven me, even though there was no intention on my part to actually harm her belongings, or startle the neighborhood with my 5150 moebeel now covered in free advertisements drawn or written by me.

But there you go, it's a start, even fraught with the accidents, I had one more thing to do, which was to get myself placed into the worst behavioral facility in the State of California, according to my friend and research assistant. F-

I didn't know going into the unit it was the type of place which caused my symptoms to increase, my peace of mind to splinter, and before I knew it, the staff was attempting to control what I could or couldn't do when when I left the facility.

Mood ring was burned to my finger by the time I got thru the medical check and headed into the hospital. I could not even follow a few short requests, such as sit down.
"Oh yeah, why?"
Then the staff came out from behind the counter and grabbed me trying to push me into the chair. I shifted and shimmied until they gave up, threatening isolation for my recalcitrant attitude.
It was a tough beginning, as the phlebotomist arrived for a blood test, but I took a mouth full of water from the drinking fountain, held it in my cheeks, then spit a small amount in his direction.

"That is it, I don't need this," he yelled as he receded from the scene. I didn't actually spray him, but the threat was there.

It is tough to talk about certain actions I took in the hospital that should be discussed.

That first night, a woman in the bed next to me was snoring. I commented that I was short on sleep, and I would wake her to tell her when it was too loud. Then I went to the nurses and asked to be moved, but they still were not over the chair incident.

The woman snored and snored, and finally I woke her up. "Please to God roll over" is what I uttered thru clenched teeth. She didn't want to have any responsibility claiming she can't help what she does in her sleep.

Then she got nasty about it, and TRUTH, before I knew it I was pelting her with sweaters and clothing.

Shocked she got up and ran to the nurses, who came charging to her aid. Me, naked except for a hospital gown, found myself grabbing the nurse and going for it. He came up reaching for me so I grabbed him first, and the fight began. His eyes were shocked as to how strong I was so he called for back up.

But I was wound up, always when someone attacks me, so I aimed for the balls, and even told him I would do it. Bruce Lee style I did indeed kick him in the balls. The fight was over as there were multiple people holding me down.

Wow, I said it, truth hurts, but that is what happened. I was dragged down the hall, burning my knees and feet on the ancient vinyl flooring.

This was not the end, as I logged in two  more fights, and plenty of shots in the ass to put me out. I even faked a heart attack and stroke, when the word was they would be holding me longer than expected.

I told the staff, the truth that it was a panic attack, and that we are all responsible as they never even cared enough to check out my claims.

Ready to leave, I modified my behavior the best I could, so then the day came to leave. An hour away from release my anti-social worker told me I would have to get clean of all drugs or alcohol, attend meetings, go to a program daily which would replace what the hospital controlled.

I broke down crying, weeping for the loss of freedom. But I really needed to leave get back to my friend's place, I could not agree to these impositions. As it is I am under pressure to get a job and place to live, but this is unnecessary.

The tears streamed down my face, as I don't like life anyway, but to shackle me to the program was not an option.

"Forget it," I told them, "I'll just stay."

Suddenly the worker says,"well we can't keep you forever."

"Oh yes you can," I finished up with.

They took away my release and it was now all up in the air again. BUT...I had a Writ of Habeus Corpus in the court, and managed to remember to check on it. I found out there were some screw ups which made the hospital's position in less control.

Next morning, I kept on the trail to leave, but leave with my own agenda intact. The writ was in my favor, I left as a voluntary, so no extra hospital direction was needed.

Happy camper I was coming home the victor against such vicious control freaks. The cost of the program along with the time, is not helpful. But had I left that day I would be bound in a worse position of having to make meetings, group sessions, and a leash that if I didn't do it, I would be back in the hospital.

Oh yeah, these are the days, and more to follow. I'm at the library in Cypress, with two minutes left to write.
Laura Hart the bipolar american

 


Thursday, October 10, 2013

Bi-Polars With Wings....

Goodday,

I've decided to rename my project to springboard other polars, from the bi-polar Americans to Bi-polars with wings. Imagine that? It is rather daunting to see all these gifts I've been impressed to witness in young and old alike. Those who have set aside their passion, their gifts, and went the Regular, store bought, common path, mundane avenue, because there is no financial support for this type of radical creativity.

As I have spoken distastefully for the game of power, money, time and sex: "Boring for dollars the pyramid scam."

It's an unfortunate circumstance, one which I must face, to face, as there is always two faces to any "transaction" of money or time or skills. Nothing shared--only sold for sale. Even one's character, integrity--up for grabs much of the time.

I will continue to imagine that we could fair up this playing field, and I will continue to ask for the help of those who have a few missing bricks in their walls. Money isn't the only involvement. Help with mentoring, researching, etc.

It's tough as I've had this passion for so long, and yet so much static with my truth telling, to tell the truth. My  only modification is an infusion of some fun and chocolate.

Sometimes the worst days give way to the most powerful positive intentions. Walt, or "Dukeskywalter" my best dog friend, the only one who can tolerate me, is in surgery for cancer this afternoon (I'm waiting for a call). I looked at the Vet and told her with tears in my eyes, "I hate this life, mostly because it doesn't have to be this way."

What if you did not ever have to consider money in any decision: Would your choices change.

Hell Yeah!

What if we didn't have Time, and I'm not talking the propanga glossy seen at grocery store check stands?

It's all speculative, but I say it would be a "home." 




Thursday, October 3, 2013

Hellyo to all...

I've been experiencing the benefits of being a truth teller...lol Yes, you get to experience mind bending experiences and now an experienced mental contortionist, I go on.

As My content of tables of games they play, and the key players are holding the ring of power. I've recently understood J.R. Tolken's need to recreate the language...

And I have a new motto based on the ring of power, the revolution which never stops like a clock. Time traps and money power plays, this makes so much more sense to me. Even my sense of humor.

"Frodo throw away that dam ring of power into mount doom so we can go home to the shire--Your Friend Sam."

I'll be in touch on the facebook bi-polar american site....

I have had ID theft, been robbed of my own good senses, and outwardly threatened regularly. "Oh, are you still alive?"

I guess if this is considered alive then I am, but I realize my readers know I consider this my lie. Stage and players, this is beginning to get interesting.

Take good care, don't sell out to fear and loathing, and I'll keep my truth coming....

Laura Hart--The bi-polar American

Thursday, August 29, 2013

"Boring for Dollars"--The Pyramid Scam: Part one

As I begin to unravel the ball of string given to us kittens to play with as we wile away our "lives" I'd like to begin with the system which controls it all: Money.

It's not an equitable situation, nor is it supposed to be. It isn't real in fact, it's the worst board game I've ever played.

Let's start with who created the money system?

Someone with needs, I would guess. Big needs, needs to control the whole world, land, and seas, and all the inhabitants thereof.

Noticably money has all sorts of language ties to most everything. Meaning it is a part of everything that goes on here in life on earth.

As I examined or purged all the words tied to money right from my brain full of labels, I was quite exhausted as most words can be linked to laws, health, social hierarchy, all COSTING something.

Let's start with a few words that stood out, one being "trickle down effect." From where does it trickle and it appears to be going up, not down.

I question why we are missing the point that Time is Money, the reality we are expected to exist in and or rise above. I've never put money before other more important words such as compassion or fairness.

My friend who never agrees with me, questions me vigorously, so I asked her why do we have to have a system with Money?

Shocked, she said, "Good point, why not--maybe we don't."

The difficult part for many to let loose of, is that some people deserve more, or are better, therefore money and all it can buy, serve to show the worth or worthiness of people. Competition is the lowest energy, pitting people against each other, one winner and one loser. Half is expected then to be lesser than the other half.

Hence, the pyramid scam, which is to keep the top both in control of the most money, but all the resources, the information, the language, the accessibility to information or inventions which would threaten to EVEN THE PLAYING FEILD.

We all cannot have what the few are feeding from, but we can recognize a "scam" when we see one and proceed to do something about it.

Human value these days revolves around surviving the levels on which your money can support you. This can change in an instant as we vote in more and more players with their teams eager for more power. Laws change that aide certain industries or Friends or family of high powered officials.

It has become natural, unquestionable, our control system. Our language shows that we consider those on the low end to be deficient or irresponsible or even stupid. Money then has become a way of saying someone is "smart" or "better."

Let's take a look at the bottom of this pyramid scam, the American Dream, the lure, the hook and bait. There is a serious crunch going on the bottom as jobs, former avenues to stay above water, are being eliminated while humans die of starvation, the land and resources are horded, education or as I call it "conditioning conformists."

The pyramid scam seems more of a prison. Can't go or do or be anything without money. And all in a certain time frame. From birth to death, it's all about money or penalties for not adhering to the rules of the game.

IOU a further explanation with some drawings to illustrate this ghastly and cruel system. My theory of this false system, this prison, goes on. We will be discussing it as I enter the dragon of supporting this blog, the creative thinkers, on this slanted playing field.

Laura Hart--The bi-Polar American