Saturday, June 30, 2012

Occupy Human Rights - candlelight vigil

Last evening, Occupy Greenville celebrated GLBT pride month with a candlelight vigil commemorating all who have been victims of violence, intolerance and bullying. (In first photo, third from left, is Deb Morrow, 4th District candidate for US congress.) We had about 25-30 participants, including high school students from Eastside High school.

In the last photo, the group is being addressed by organizer Abigail LeCompte.

Not surprisingly, we attracted some spirited hecklers, including one rather obsessed individual who went away to fetch religious tracts and then brought them back, presenting them with a dramatic flourish--all while yelling that he would pray for all of us. (Um, okay.) At one point, the exchange became rather heated, as another person who happened to be passing by told him (not us!) to shut up and stood there and made fun of him at some length. Hey, Greenville is changing!

But of course, not fast enough for me.

Thanks to everyone who showed up. I love you all!

You can click to enlarge. More photos HERE!

Friday, June 29, 2012

Happy Bloggiversary to me!

At left: The Bottom Line Band entertained us a couple of weeks ago, and I apologize for not posting their photo until now. I am nothing if not prompt!

The heat index in upstate South Carolina is a whopping 105 degrees... which I knew even before they told me.


Announcement: As of this month, I have been blogging FIVE YEARS!

It is unbelievable. I never thought it would last this long. I remember wondering if I would even make it a whole year, and then, could I make it to the second? How on earth did that turn into FIVE years?

I am not the same person I was when I started.

We change and evolve constantly. I have a new understanding and appreciation for people who delete blogs and start new ones, as well as those who stop blogging altogether. It feels as if the old posts no longer represent us, and they can actually embarrass us. Our personal evolution, for good or ill, is there for everyone to see and judge. For example, all of my Christian posts are intact and continue to be linked by Christians, some of whom still contact me. All sorts of opinions and political views I no longer hold are presented here, and I have even made total reversals on some issues. (Is this proof I am indecisive and wishy-washy, or open-minded and continuing to learn?)

Changing our minds is something we all do, but I have a detailed record of my various mind-changes, and most people don't.

We always want our narrative to fit who we think we are at any given time. This is why Orwell's account of revisionist history in 1984 (i.e.: "Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia") makes such an emotional impact on us: We do exactly that type of reality-rewrite, often. If we decide someone or something is bad, we like to say we knew it all along. We search our pasts and come up with evidence that we should have paid attention to; we tell ourselves we never DID trust that person/cause/brand/job/car/town/public figure in the first place, and next time, we will follow our instincts. But this isn't true at all. We are trying to minimize the pain of disappointment, as well as our feelings of embarrassment for our faulty judgment. We try to cover up our gullible natures or our desire to think the best of people, all because we want them to like us too. When it all backfires, we feverishly look for the reasons, the various just-so stories that make us feel better.

But alas, blogging makes us tell the truth. The past is right here, in technicolor, and I can't lie about it.

In some ways, this can become unbearable... which is why I think so many people delete their blogs. It is as if you have no control over your own autobiography and how it will be interpreted. In other ways, it can be very freeing: here I am, no pretense and no phony baloney (as my grandmother, namesake of this blog, would say).

In 2010, I posted very sparingly and had a spiritual crisis. I didn't really know what I should say about that, so I haven't said too much. If I had to name the major difference between Christianity and Buddhism, I think it would be how Christianity exhorts us to share the "Good News" (Gospel), whereas Buddhism mostly counsels us to shut up.

But that would be the major transformation over the past few years. Although I defended Christianity vociferously when I first started blogging, I ended up jumping ship myself.

If you don't think that isn't embarrassing, think again.

But that's me, and that's how it happened. To start a new blog acting like I was always in possession of spiritual truths that I only recently discovered, would simply be false. That isn't who I am.


I have wondered if blogging is becoming extinct, and perhaps it is. I plow onward out of habit, and because there are facts posted here that haven't been posted anywhere else. I am a great believer in keeping careful records, and I am always amazed by how so much was left unrecorded back in the day. I look up various events from the past and can find no accounts of them, or maybe only one lone photo or abbreviated news account. My advice to all baby-boomers is to start posting your photos and history, especially pre-internet history.

The glut of camera-phones now is basically the OPPOSITE of what so many of us remember: no photos at ALL of so many important days in our lives. So much lost.

Our memories count, too, so tell your stories. Write them down. In reading over my own blog, I am so often struck by the passing details, as well as vivid ones. I remember the storm in this photo; I remember Social Distortion's version of "Ring of Fire"; I remember my granddaughter's week-long visit with me. My blog is like a mental photo album, an emotional and spiritual map of where I have been.

I would blog even if nobody read it. As small blogs dwindle in importance, it may likely come to that. But I would still post the updates.

After all, something really important might happen. :)

Monday, June 25, 2012

HeroesCon 2012

At left: Yes, you know who it is! (He is not nearly as mean or rowdy as they say; he politely posed for pictures with everybody.)

Just got back from the great party that is HeroesCon in Charlotte, NC! Photos below. As always, you can click to enlarge. More photos HERE.

At bottom, Stan Lee and his ever-worshipful acolytes, packed into a room to hear His Majesty. They wouldn't let us get too close; it was like he was Mick Jagger or somebody. Frank Sinatra at the Sands in the 60s, complete with mafioso-bodyguards warning you to keep your distance!

I hope your weekend was as wild and wacky as mine was.


And first up, the ladies who safely kept my wallet for me when I left it at their booth, like a total flake. GEEKS ARE HONEST!

Thank you, Za Pow!

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Tuesday Tunes

Turn it up!

Somebody argued with me that Blondie wasn't a punk band, so this is for them. Yes, I know they made pop hits to pay the rent, but this song totally burns the place down.

And I hereby rest my case!

Detroit 442 - Blondie

It also helps that Debbie looks fabulous.


It has been pointed out to me that Tom Petty was ON "King of the Hill" (well, his animated image was, in any event!) --but this lovely tune was recorded in 1991 and the cartoon started in 1997... I wonder if the song was an inspiration for the title?

It's easy to figure out who wrote what parts of the song: the verses sound like Petty/Heartbreakers, but the chorus is pure McGuinn/Byrds... beautiful!

King of the Hill - Tom Petty and Roger McGuinn


Too amazing for mere words:

Here But I'm Gone - Curtis Mayfield

May his soul rest in peace.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Friday update

Our own Spartanburg Occupier, Deb Morrow, won the SC Democratic primary! She will go up against awful Trey Gowdy for the 4th District Congressional Seat in November.

I made a special trip to vote for Deb; she was the only candidate on my ballot. I am proud of her efforts (and have attended two of her organizing meetings) and hope she will give us a call at the radio station tomorrow. She tried last week, but was apparently in a moving vehicle, and consequently, we lost her. Give us another shot, Deb!


Apologies for my late news. I had internet connection issues all week. Unplugged against my will! Argh!

During this time, the shameless scandalmonger in me has stayed tuned to the sordid Jerry Sandusky trial. (Penn State coach accused of sexually abusing numerous children.) No cameras in the courtroom, but reporters have provided a steady stream of horrors. I am amazed at how hands-off the authorities were, over decades... these kids were not from families who would have raised a ruckus. And Sandusky chose them deliberately for this reason.

He repeatedly told them how much he loved them, and they have testified that they loved him in return. They loved the gifts, the attention, the football games.

People on Facebook are howling for Dottie Sandusky's head, believing that she must know more than she is letting on. One victim claims he stayed overnight at Sandusky's house in excess of 50 times. Besides that, Jerry Sandusky stayed in the basement for hours with these kids. Didn't his wife suspect anything?

We will be discussing the Sandusky trial tomorrow on my show, so tune in.

Monday, June 11, 2012

You Wear it Well

You Wear it Well - Rod Stewart (1972)

Them homesick blues and your radical views
Haven't left a mark on you

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Greenville Candlelight vigil announced

Occupy Greenville will hold a candlelight vigil on June 29th for all GLBT victims of abuse, violence and bullying.

Lovely graphic by Abigail LeCompte.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Weekend update

Today's radio show podcast is up!

Some of what we covered this morning--

[] The South Carolina primary is Tuesday, June 12th... and we currently have a HUGE political mess with about 200 candidates thrown off the ballot. There appears to be no end to what Governor Haley has called a "sham"--a sham that (it should be noted) occurred totally on her watch.

More about this issue:

Palmetto State Ballot Mess: Who Got Decertified? (FitsNews)

SC Senate could see major changes with primary (The State)

Court’s latest ruling complicates ballot issue even further (Palmetto Public Record)

[] I also covered the "Stand Up for Religious Freedom" rally, held yesterday at County Square, on taxpayer-supported property.

[] We discussed "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"--as well as the New York Times story reporting that more soldiers are currently dying of suicide than of actual warfare. On the average, one death every day this year.

And I got off onto a rant about Opus Dei, which was somewhat unplanned, and then I played David Bowie. It is the 40th anniversary of the legendary Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, which I used to listen to every day before I went to high school. (I'd say that explains plenty.)


On my way home, I tuned into the indispensable Piedmont Blues radio show on WOLT FM, and heard John Lee Hooker's Frisco Blues.

It just doesn't get any better than that, folks.

Hope your weekend is good!

Friday, June 8, 2012

A Buddhist Story about People and Cats

My cat Cyril, who has never bitten me.

About a dozen years ago, give or take, I was feeding a cat behind our apartment building. He was a very cute, squat kitty, white/tabby patterned with sweet golden eyes. He was dirty and bedraggled--a feral cat, to be sure; he would not approach humans. I fed him for months, and occasionally sat out on the terrace while he ate. As a stray, he was far too hungry to wait for me to go inside to commence chowing down. He ignored me, and I took advantage of this situation, to get closer. And closer.

And eventually, one day, I touched him. He instantly purred, rubbed against me, meowed happily. I wondered if he had always been feral ... or maybe he had simply concluded I must be okay, as his faithful food-dispenser. I pet him every day after that. It was about two or three weeks after I first touched him, that he suddenly lunged and grabbed my arm with both paws, full-on, and... crunch. He bit me. Hard.

Ouch. It was DEEP. (I still have the scar from it, a singular spot on my thumb-joint.) There was blood, and the pain did not readily subside.

Two seconds after he did this, he was purring again, rubbing against me happily. What gives?--I thought. I realized that he probably had an ear infection (or an infestation of ear mites, as most strays have) and while petting him, I had gotten too close to his ears. I could see that he wasn't mad at me, because he didn't run off. My mistake, I thought, this is what I get for petting strays. I cleaned myself with peroxide and bandages, and went to work as usual.

Within two days, I had a fever, and my arm was red... the redness appearing to climb up my arm. I was working at the dreaded call-center then, and even typing had become painful. I called my mother, and she basically shrieked at me to go to the doctor, that being bitten by a feral animal was a serious matter. Denial, I guess. I knew this intellectually, but didn't seem to think it applied to ME. Because I am a cat person!

It was serious... I already had an infection that was in danger of becoming systemic. I needed a huge dose of Rocephin and was running a significant fever. I was embarrassed by the whole thing. As a cat person, I was embarrassed a CAT had attacked me, feral or not.

But even more than that, it then became a government matter. DHEC has rules about feral animal-attacks. (Who knew?) They have to fill out government paperwork and call the Health Dept and everything. Was this an unprovoked attack?--asked the nurse. I couldn't readily answer. Was it? "Well, I was petting the cat and I think I got too close to his ears," I said, "so that is MY fault." She shook her head at me and disagreed; that is still unprovoked, in fact, that is exactly the instantly-unpredictable, random bad behavior they are looking for.

I certainly didn't think it was unprovoked, but officially, it was. They would have to trap the cat and see if it was rabid.

And get this: to check the cat for rabies, they have to cut off its head.

So, even if the poor stray feline in question doesn't have rabies, the poor cat has still lost its head. :(

I was reminded of those tests for witchcraft in the Middle Ages, in which some poor accused girl would have a boulder tied to her waist and was then thrown into a lake. If she was guilty of witchcraft, of course, she would float. There really is no way to win that one.

And it was the same for the poor kitty. I was horrified and felt terribly guilty. If I had never fed the damn cat in the first place, none of this would have happened. (I also thought of Star Trek's prime directive, and remembered that I had always believed it was a fine idea. Thus, I regarded this as the penalty for my direct interference in Feral Cat Civilization.) Mr Daisy said he hoped this was the end of "Dances with Cats"--for awhile, at least.

The DHEC guy brought the cage-trap and set it on my terrace. When the stray kitty came to eat lunch, as he always did, he was caught in the trap. The guy returned the next day (the cat sat out there in the trap, yowling the whole time, making me feel like a sadist and killer) and took him away. My then-teenaged daughter alternately sobbed and glared at me. I made a mental note to leave the feral animals alone forever after, and I have kept my promise to myself, regardless of how winsome and wonderful they appear. (As they all do, to me.)

The verdict? The stray kitty didn't have rabies, as I knew he did not.


I recently wondered why I felt so deeply about the cat, and experienced such guilt over his death, when I do not feel this way about humans who bite me. Literally or figuratively. I usually believe they get what they deserve.

Not only did I totally overlook the damage the cat inflicted on me, I somehow believed I had caused it. I was the catalyst for his actions, after all. I immediately sought the reason for his behavior, and in doing so, quickly figured out his ears were sensitive. I took all responsibility on myself. I only went to the doctor and reported it when I realized I was sick. I was ready to forgive and forget, and give him more food besides.

Some of the people I worked with thought I was crazy: "An animal bites me, I'll kill it!" Or at least kick it or do something. The self-defined cat people were more sympathetic, but not uniformly so. Feral cats are dangerous, they said. Many said they would have no sympathy for a cat that harmed them; good riddance.


Today, I realized... some people are as over-sensitive in various spots and at various junctures, as my stray kitty was about his ears. Get too close, and CRUNCH, they will bite you, big time. I'm sure you know what I mean; it has happened to you, too. And yet, for some reason, I don't excuse the people who bite me, the way I excused the cat. I do not take total responsibility for being the catalyst; I certainly don't fret that they are suffering on my account. I do not instantly search for the possible reason for their sudden attack, and as a result, feel more compassion.

Why do you suppose that is?

Because we cast ourselves in the role of caretakers of the animals? Custodians of the earth, etc? But doesn't that role extend to other humans? Why doesn't it?

Do we assume humans "know better"? And why (chuckle) would we assume such a thing? On one hand, we know humans are completely capable of acting like animals, and yet, on the other, we are always shocked when they do.

I thought of this story while asking myself if I am capable of compassion on a deep level. I doubted it, and then, remembered the feral kitty. I look at the scar on my thumb and remember the surprise of his sudden attack. And yet, in seconds, I forgave him. I was crushed when DHEC took him away.

I have resolved to attempt to replicate this consciousness the next time humans disappoint me, and bite.

I will look for the ear mites; I will attempt to figure out if I got too close, and if this person jumped in pure animal reflex as a result. I will try to perceive in what ways I was the catalyst for the bite. I will forgive and try to remain forgiving.

It's a tall order for someone with such a bad temper as I often have. And yet, if I can suspend my temper for an animal, it seems that I should be able to suspend it for a human being.

Perhaps I can even nurture the opposite emotion, compassion.

Although of course, it really is hard to compare people to cats. But for me, its a good place to start.

Of all God's creatures there is only one that cannot be made the slave of the lash. That one is the cat. If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the cat.

Mark Twain

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Ray Bradbury 1920-2012

He changed us. He made us different than we had been in the mere seconds before we picked up his stories.

One of my special favorites is All Summer in a Day, an incredible story about bullying, long before the subject was hip. (1954)

Reposting the obit from, which can't be improved upon:

Ray Bradbury, recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2004 National Medal of Arts, and the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, died on June 5, 2012, at the age of 91 after a long illness. He lived in Los Angeles.

In a career spanning more than seventy years, Ray Bradbury has inspired generations of readers to dream, think, and create. A prolific author of hundreds of short stories and close to fifty books, as well as numerous poems, essays, operas, plays, teleplays, and screenplays, Bradbury was one of the most celebrated writers of our time. His groundbreaking works include Fahrenheit 451, The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Dandelion Wine, and Something Wicked This Way Comes. He wrote the screen play for John Huston's classic film adaptation of Moby Dick, and was nominated for an Academy Award. He adapted sixty-five of his stories for television's The Ray Bradbury Theater, and won an Emmy for his teleplay of The Halloween Tree. In 2005, Bradbury published a book of essays titled Bradbury Speaks, in which he wrote: "In my later years I have looked in the mirror each day and found a happy person staring back. Occasionally I wonder why I can be so happy. The answer is that every day of my life I've worked only for myself and for the joy that comes from writing and creating. The image in my mirror is not optimistic, but the result of optimal behavior."

He is survived by his four daughters, Susan Nixon, Ramona Ostergren, Bettina Karapetian, and Alexandra Bradbury, and eight grandchildren. His wife, Marguerite, predeceased him in 2003, after fifty-seven years of marriage.

Throughout his life, Bradbury liked to recount the story of meeting a carnival magician, Mr. Electrico, in 1932. At the end of his performance Electrico reached out to the twelve-year-old Bradbury, touched the boy with his sword, and commanded, Live forever! Bradbury later said, "I decided that was the greatest idea I had ever heard. I started writing every day. I never stopped."
And we were all so much richer for that. Thank you Mr Electrico!

We will miss the master. (bows) Rest in Peace.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Tuesday funnies

When I need cheering up, I go over to visit one of my blogular mentors, Yellowdog Granny.

She had too many good ones to choose from! She recently reached her 2600th post, too. Congrats, Yellowdog!

You can click to enlarge.

(Thanks so much, Jackie Sue)

Pure Gold

Gregory Easton is a homophobic, Religious-Right blogger who graduated from Bob Jones University. His blog was/is the Hidalgo Grain Company. Although he has been critical of BJU (he was expelled once, apparently, and went back... I didn't even know you could do that), he is simultaneously fiercely loyal to the institution, particularly in the face of recent (multiple) controversies. Easton sees the "disaffecteds" as causing all the trouble.

In response, Easton has repeatedly implied that certain of the "disaffecteds" are gay (by name too), has insultingly-photo-shopped pictures stolen from the LGBT-BJU website, has even accused Camille Lewis and her husband of attempting to "take over" BJU from North Greenville College (!), which is an utterly bizarre and outrageous claim. He even posted photos of Camille's children. He is an internet-bully, and has bullied a lot of people. His modus operandi is to take copyrighted material and creatively-photoshop it, apparently unaware that this is illegal and a copyright violation. (There is a notice on my website, lower right corner, instructing readers that my material is copyrighted.) This has been going on a good while now. I had never commented on this bully, and felt delinquent in not doing so. Camille is a friend, and I felt I had not defended her as well as I should have.

Saturday, I posted about BJU, and in passing made this remark:

... as a certain Hidalgo Grain Company person specializes in: endless pissed-off yammerings and then howlings of persecution when those yammerings are taken seriously. This seems to be the general pattern.
I pointedly did not link his blog, as you notice. I did NOT want Easton to come over to my blog, and linking him would have alerted him and sent him over. So I deliberately DID NOT.

Apparently, Easton is the kind of person who continuously Googles himself, and he found the reference within the hour.

This one sentence from me rated a 1000-word blog post from Easton, blasting me as insane, complete with stolen photos, photoshopped to say things I do not agree with, and one making me cross-eyed (although Easton is 51 years old, he appears to have some arrested development, like most bullies). He trashed the radio station I am on, said it only had 500 watts. Etc. When I politely asked him to take down the copyrighted material, he laughed at me and told me I was "pure gold"... Thus, we have the title of this post. (I sure am!)

We went back and forth on his blog, and he threatened me with legal action for something I said, now forgotten. His "legal department" counsels him that blah blah blah (I guess his legal dept thinks stealing photos is A-Okay though). I replied here, instead of there:
I got biker friends in Pensacola. One of them said he would like to pay you a visit. [Here I named the two streets listed for Gregory Easton on the Pensacola White Pages website and asked which one was his.] Well, I guess he can check out both locations. I see you lived at Pebble Creek Apts when you lived here in the Greenville area (Taylors). Small world, I have biker friends there, too! In fact, I have biker friends most everywhere, since I was once married to one.

My biker friend in Pensacola needs some serious witnessing (I think he might be a satanist or something crazy like that, you know how Deadheads are all over the lot! Even Ann Coulter is one!)... so please be nicer to him, than you were to me, okay?

Could you clarify the street address so he doesn't have to go to both places? Get out your Bible, Greg... I think you are going to need it.
Although this was intended as humorous and as a reply to his various threats of lawyers to make me go away (or at least as humorous as Greg threatening to out the gay students), I forgot that the word "biker" causes "the citizens" to freak (shades of Roger Corman's The Wild Angels!)... this was the comment that started the massive Facebook hyperventilating.

Next thing you know, a commenter named "Ex-Calvinist" who came over directly from Greg's site (he is also associated with a GLBT group that I am friends with on Facebook, but I do not know his real name or what the nature of his association with them is) and leaves this message (controversial info redacted):
Daisy, Calvinists don't believe in witnessing. Predestination allows them to be smug in the Gospel. If you don't agree with them, then you're not predestined so they don't have to worry about you. Heresy but much easier for everyone.

Greg is doing this for blog hits and I thought you should know. Don't link him, though. That only encourages a sociopath.

Hi Greg! I'm an ex-old friend. You treated me like shit. Like you do [wife and kids named here, redacted] and everyone else in your life. So now we're ex-friends. {You mostly have ex-friends, which is why you aren't on Facebook. Nobody would friend you.} Daisy needs to know what kind of Bobber freak is harassing her this time.

I was shipped and stayed shipped. I didn't go crawling back to BJU on my belly begging for more abuse, like some masochists with no principles do. Remember now? You ratted me out to save your own ass, scumbag motherfucker.

If I ever get my hands on you, snitch asswipe, you'll wish you met Daisy's biker instead.

Daisy, Greg and [spouse] live at [redacted] in Pensacola, Florida. She is a teacher and works at [redacted] school. There are apartment buildings across the street from them, so your friend should be able to park there and observe the house without anyone noticing.

Say howdy to Greg and [wife] for me.
Ex-C, hope you don't mind that I took out the school name? If it was GREG that taught there, I would leave it in, but I have nothing against the misses. At least, not yet!

Thank you for the info. Looked it up on Google Street view--nice house, close to the ocean! Another rich kid (even if he is 51, he is obviously still a kid), playing games and getting in way over his head. Despite his "free speech" bullshit protestations, he has banned me and even Gregg, my consigliere.

Stalk and then ban, that is the pattern with these perverts.
Daisy, not a problem. I'm just providing information.

I want Greg to sweat the way his snitching made others sweat. He has no conscience or loyalty at all. Everything he has or has done is at the expense of someone else. If his wife didn't have a decent job, he couldn't even support himself. He's earned nothing on his own.

Be proud a BJU robot loser attacked you. It means you're doing the right thing.
I thought I was being such a nice girl, politely taking out the name of the school where Mrs Easton teaches, but everyone wanted Easton's address redacted also. As regular readers know, I grew up with a bully and I do not like to be bullied. (After all, this information is easily found on the internet to anyone who does a search of Easton's name and locale, as Ex-Calvinist obviously has.) But here is the punch line.


The. Whole. Thing.

Do you remember what I wrote? How he pick fights and then howls? This is the best example of the BJU-modus operandi I have ever seen. He claims he is now terrified for his innocent family (shades of Tom Laughlin's Born Losers!) All hell has broken loose, as BJU people demand I take down his address. They didn't care about Easton's continuous gay-baiting, which could have cost someone a job (or their life), just like they didn't care what happened to Camille, you understand... they care about GREG EASTON.

I am also being threatened with suspension from my radio show for this incident, since one of them went and (of course) snitched. Snitching is a way of life over there. As I have written here before, it was a BJU-gal picking a fight with me on the job, and then crying and wailing to the boss when I got mad and read her the riot act, that once cost me a job. That is the pattern: start a fight, create anguish, then howl when there are direct consequences to your despicable actions. Over and over and over. And here in upstate SC, they are allowed to continue this, as they would not be allowed in a larger and more diverse city or location.

Adding to the murderous atmosphere for GLBT people here in the south is not a harmless activity. And yet, nobody at BJU thinks there is anything wrong with that. Many participated on Greg Easton's proudly-homophobic blog with aplomb.

Since his blog is gone, so is our subsequent conversation over his nasty photo-shopping of my image... I asked him to "witness" the Gospel to me, and he refused. My biker comments were made in that vein, that I am sending a biker over to his house for him to witness to. Now he is howling that I am "threatening his life". Oh boy. He certainly didn't seem to care when BJU-apologists put up a Facebook page threatening MY life. (Now, I wonder why that is?)

The Borg has now contacted WFIS to get my radio show suspended. They play as dirty as I do... they just don't admit it, and I do.

I might redact Easton's street address, but Greg Easton assures us that his blog is intact, just invisible... so I hate to take down the protective force-field that has made him go away. He will undoubtedly go back to stealing people's photos for more photo-shop fun, as well as the usual hate speech and outings.

What's a mother to do?

Haven't decided. But as I have said to readers over and over: this is the power of Bob Jones University. Their tentacles reach everywhere in upstate SC. I knew I was going to PAY, and PAY DEARLY, when I took them on in the first place. This is the way they play it.


For the record: My legal name and address, the names of my family, places I have worked, et. al... all of this is right here on this blog, if you know where to find it. Thing is, you don't. All of this information is tucked away in five years of blog-comments. There are the names, addresses and IPs of at least three different trolls I have outed, who have stalked me here. (one includes his work address) There are references to private conversations, sexual activities, personal failings, etc etc etc from people who I wish had not written those things about me. But I left it up. There are criticisms of me, calling me all kinds of names. I left it up.

In sum, there are all manner of brawls in blog comments on this site, not readily available unless you know exactly where to look. (And even I forget where these particular comments are, when I sometimes go to look for them myself!)

And it would have been the same for Greg Easton's info... it would fade away into the overall detritus of the blog. Nobody would be able to find it, unless they knew exactly where to look. (In fact, this was also Easton's excuse when people asked HIM to delete his copious and constant photo-shopping.) I did not even link his blog in my post, he linked mine in his. HE IS THE ONE WHO HAS DRAWN ALL THIS ADDITIONAL ATTENTION TO THIS POST AND IN DOING SO, PUT HIS OWN INFO ON THE MAP. I think this is so he can be all melodramatic and play the victim. I do not for one minute believe that he is afraid for his family or any other fairy tale. I think his wife was contacted and SHE finally put her foot down. (A little birdie told me.) THAT is why the blog is finally gone.

As I said in the original post, and I now repeat: As a certain Hidalgo Grain Company person specializes in: endless pissed-off yammerings and then howlings of persecution when those yammerings are taken seriously. This seems to be the general pattern.

And as we see, I was 100% correct. You do not steal from people, post pictures of their kids and accuse Christian students (who have a lot to lose) of being gay, and then howl in moral indignation when they fight back. Well, you can, but expect people to challenge your double standards.

I realize the cult fully approves of this behavior (since they participated on Easton's blog, as I said), but the world at large DOES NOT.

In the meantime, I am thinking of adding a section to the blog, with approving reviews/quotes. "Interesting."--Noam Chomsky (yes, he really did say that to me) and "Pure Gold"--Greg Easton. Then he will be immortalized here forever.

Whaddaya think?


EDIT #1, 6/5/12: After much discussion, Ex-Calvinist has given me permission to strike his comment. I decided to do this since Greg Easton has threatened me and WFIS with legal action. I really hate to give into bullies, but sometimes, they have the bigger guns, the deepest pockets and the most artillery.

Thus, the comments at the original post will now link to this post.

EDIT #2, 6/9/12: No radio suspension is imminent, so I have edited this post to remove my various ditherings over the possibility, at the request of several interested parties. The rest of the post is intact.

Stay tuned, sports fans.

EDIT #3, 7/23/12: Greg Easton's blog is back up and intact, as the BJU-watchers assured me it would be. For all his high-pitched hysteria, it seems it was all a huge fake-out; a fundamentalist victim-act, as I knew it was. All the people who got SO angry with me for harming poor wittle Greg, have not apologized to me for defending this two-bit, ridiculous fake/hysteric/liar/charlatan. I am waiting though, and I am keeping a list.

Irish Alzheimers: you forget everything but the grudges.