Far, Far Away

Well, here we all are, Dear Readers, my cousins of the world. Entrenched. Really, it's a miracle we got this far. Right up until the point where I started blogging about my nephew's non-suicide, my sister had been bandied about from the Medical Examiner's Office to county officials to blah blah blah. We have the email chains to prove it. Joyce deJong - aka Morticia, if I can still say that - literally typed, "her lawyer can talk to our lawyer, and we are DONE."

They weren't done. As soon as the pressure was applied, they started making silly mistakes. And committing allegedly nefarious acts. And spending money to defend themselves against the issue. Colluding with those who sued us. Calling the cops. That's all scary stuff, meant to be so, which is how they would (s)tamp down any mere person who had the temerity to stand up to them.

Everyone knows what's going on here. The court system knows. The media knows. You know - and it wasn't heat from me that brought out their spikes, but from you, the eyeballs that see what I am saying here. As soon as their pissy sheets were hung out for the world to see, it was like Holy Water, Batman, people know the truth.

Not many citizens would take on such a leviathan opponent. It's not just a heavy lift; powerful entities like these ones have no doubt that they can crush any little challenger, whether they have legal representation or not. Why would they ever think otherwise? They own the world after all...

Unless you've ever taken any courses in Government, or Political Science, or Journalism, or History, even Shakespeare. Then you know what I know, that any tree can be chopped down by a single ax. In fact,  just about every tree that ever lived has been. I use metaphors like that one at my own risk, actually. Now they'll say I'm a potential lumberjack (Paul Bunyan perhaps), or worse.

Do you know why I have this unshakable belief in the power of the individual in society? Do you want to know? Not because of my education or my work, Lord, no. It's this:

When I was a little kid, my parents took me to see a movie where, at the end, a single pilot in an X-wing fighter blew up the Death Star. So I've seen it done, okay? Moreover, they made a video arcade game based on the movie, basically a Death Star Flight Simulator, and I myself have flown in an X-wing fighter and blown up the Death Star... Many times.

Now, watch, as petty as the Medical Examiner's Office has been, they'll rat me out to George Lucas and claim that I've just committed a copyright violation, or some other Mickey Mouse shit like that. Nothing would surprise me by this time.

Even WMed, the quasi-private school that houses this Little Shop of Horrors, has disabled comments on all of their YouTube videos. They want you to see the outer epidermal layer, not the shitty truth about them, which you will ONLY find in this space.

Stay tuned. The appeal hearing is scheduled for May 2nd. That's two days before Star Wars Day, May the 4th, which is coming right up... May the 4th be with you.

pH 4.o8.19

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