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Dancing Away the Narcissistic Weirdness of finally becoming a Goddess in a world full of Gods

I guess “it takes one to know one” just might be the way to go through life these days as a narcissistic, narcotic-free, narcissism researcher so emptied out that I am finally so full of everyone else’s shit I just stink to high heaven and back thrice over. A narcissistic researcher who is scaling a wall that Trump himself would be proud of, if he was even aware of my existence. I am a Narc who does not suffer from narcolepsy, but does have bouts of insomnia like Geoffrey Chaucer, especially now that I know about mirror neurons, phenotyping, and the serendipity that must be involved when some Higher Power continues to draw certain people, with certain names that I did not pick out, into my life.

I have entered into a realm run by Sir Realism himself! I also just might have some weird form of a weirded-out faith being reformed, and replaced in a Higher Power that just has a bizarre sense of humor. MY understanding of MY HP is ridiculously funny the longer I stay alive. Eventually, my mouth will just shut up and quit hanging open every time I meet some new person that just has to be on this earth by some divine appointment! Maybe God really IS Greek, after all! Maybe God is really Zeus, just like my ancestors, the Greeks, believed! I know about mirrors, narcissism, and fairy tales come true.

Otherwise, I am placing my bets on the Illuminati having some real power over my life, and as I become more illuminated, they just become more naughty in how they are playing God over my life!

Bring it on! Just make sure no one gets hurt! Life is all shits and giggles when a complete bowel obstruction occurs ten days after a hysterectomy gone awry right before Trump comes into office and the whole world goes bat-shit crazy. It’s enough to cause “hysterical” bouts of laughter in between the flood-gates of heaven AND hell opening up across all boundaries. What the hell, I guess I asked for all of this craziness unfolding in my life.

No one held a gun to my head as I married into the notorious Jones tribe. No one held a gun to my head as I had eight babies for God’s glory. No one held a gun to my head as I voted for the Anti-Christ and put it on a Youtube video:

I just thought I was being rather clever with a snarky-ass two-for-one vote that turned into something so much more. I decided to throw myself into the mix and become THE Anti-Christ, but not the evil lower case one. My version has all upper caps in the “THE,” because as a Narcissist, I would just have to up and outdo even the Anti-Christ! That’ll Show Trump, Hitler, and Richard Spencer…and any other scary, evil spirit one wants to throw in the mix!

My new career as a Bad-ass Oregonian Storyteller, born and raised in a very small fish bowl full of corruption and crime is not for the faint of heart. I have the stories to tell of some Oregon history and HER story that can either send chills down your spine, or having you rolling in the aisles depending on the flavor of the spin. I can send you running for the hills, the bathroom, or the federal agents depending on the given day’s events. Most days, I just want to go and dance until the end of the world arrives or until I see my children in my life again. hen, I’ll probably dance up a storm with them if they want and we can all just dance away the night until the stars fall from the sky and land in Trump’s golden toilets like eggs from the Golden Goose flying high with Mother Goose at the helm.

I am a Master Mistress at the use of extreme satire as I have learned its power in literature, religion, politics, and life. Not every person gets the desperation of a woman with an indomitable spirit whose emotional torture is so deep and so extreme, that she just might make some audacious claims and then begin to embody them in ODD ways! Living out one’s beliefs becomes a full time job when no one listens to a squeaking wheel because there is nothing they either can nor want to do to fix major social issues that unfold in our communities right under our noses and right before our very eyes!

No one wants to hear my seriously TRUE story of how I was terrorized by a man I was married to for twenty years, as he claims to be terrified of me and has convinced our children to view me as a threat as well! I was NOT the one who ruled the roost with an iron fist as “Daddy” for all of those years! I was the one who managed to escape his grip under threat of character annihilation, turning our children against me, and more. I took my chances. I also listened to counselors who advised me to allow my children to continue to have a relationship with their father because that is the healthiest self-image to give to children about themselves. He did not get the same message from any counselor, apparently. He must not need any counselors. He must be perfect and completely healed from having raped me and terrorizing his family. I am convinced that I would likely be dead today had I not escaped my situation.

Apparently, Oregon DHS, Oregon lawyers, judges, and lawmakers who engage in perpetrating domestic terrorism of long-term trauma recovery victims do not offer enough support to those “Lady Madonnas” with children at their feet who get turned into the image of a whore by the ex-husband they caught cheating in an extramarital affair behind her devoted, broken, and desperately drunken back. Don’t look back. Run like hell. Run. Run. Run!

I wish I could explain to others the terror that lurks behind my eyes that smile on the surface as I continue to act like a clown. I never used to be the class clown. I was that quiet student who kept to herself and did a LOT of internalizing and thinking. Today, my therapist tells me it is healthy for me to plot and plan how to assassinate Trump. It might be safer for all involved to keep Trump far away from me, my neighbor’s pot brownies, my Uncle’s outhouse, my box of enemas, any chainsaws and any threats of making a big pot of chili. It’s a good thing I would never actually carry out any of my crazy fantasies, because I also know that violence never works with a buffoon who has a ton of money. All that power and trauma-energy would just get passed around into the energy of other buffoons with narcissism and we could have a civil war on our hands or worse. Thank goodness my father and mother infused some wisdom about forbearance into me. I rarely got anything instantly while growing up. I learned to be happy without much expected because I knew I already owned a cattle on a thousand hills. I have so many servants to day, all I have to do is walk into a restaurant and there they are at my beck and call. I’ve watched Deliverance under my ex-husband’s tutelage. My ex-husband raised me from the age of nineteen and obviously did a bag-up job of helping to create me. Literally.

I mean, I was thrown up against walls in front of our children. I was pinned down on the bed and screamed at in my face as I weathered through bouts of rage. I watched as my children went through physical struggles that resulted in their dad on top of them with a fist balled up over their faces because they refused to get him a flipping dollar so he could go get a Big Mac Meal.

His brother was strapped to a chair in Oklahoma in an unsolved murder. His first sexual experience was that involved drugging and rape at the hands of his sister-in-law. When a person will not talk like a grown-up about family trauma and hidden secrets that could be carried forth and relived through our children as they grow up under the hands of an extremely controlling dictator and psychological abuser, then I WILL GO PUBLIC and let the chips fall where they may!

One lawyer told me he wouldn’t take my case because the damage was already done! FUCK HIM! THESE ARE MY CHILDREN and their FUTURES he’s talking about! MY CHILDREN’S FATHER NEEDS SOME INTENSE THERAPY! MY CHILDREN NEED SOME INTERVENTION SOON BEFORE IT REALLY IS TOO LATE AS THEY BECOME ADULTS WHO BELIEVE IT IS O.K. TO ABUSE WOMEN AND PARENTS and actually get AWAY WITH IT, while their mother lives in continual heartache and fear for how they all turn out in the end! But, I breathe like Darth Vader on a daily basis now…deep and slow. My yoga instructor showed me how to fill my lungs from the back of my throat.

I am sure with the rise of alcoholism and drug addiction my children will all be just FINE in the end. I know the A.A. acronym for FINE. In the future, counselors, lawyers and even more social workers who drop balls while on vacations maymake lots of money off of my family who fell through a grand canyon of societal issues. But, then again, we are resourceful, scrappy, determined pioneers of Oregon. We will figure out a way to dig our own damned selves out of the ditch they were told that I, their mother, deserved to die in!

My one son told me NO ONE at his Dad’s house likes me. No one. Not his sisters, not his dad, not his new stepmom. Now my beautiful children are convinced that I am the worse parent who ever walked the face of the earth? Really? Some day they will recover their memories and be able to see the brainwashing. I am certain of that much! I am just sad that something could happen in this world before they do and we can reunite again.

In the meantime, I hope they choose their friends and their future partners very carefully! If your future partner hooks you in with a tale of victim hood and shows signs of insecurity. Just run. Nicely. Just don’t feed the monster in them. Get into counseling, co-dependent support groups and really look at their family history. It can end up biting you in the ass down the road!

Maybe, someday my spirit of a phoenix rising will rise up in them and they will be able to face the shit-storms of life when things unravel in their own experiences of trying to do everything right and somehow just have it turn out like a pile of shit because people make money and careers off of losers like their own mother and their own family. Long live the JONES TRIBE of survivors and over-comers! And forgivers! If I can forgive GOD and this whole screwed up world; if I can forgive my children’s father and his new sweetie-pie for what they are doing; if I can forgive myself for helping to raise a family of abusive children who just might grow up into abusive adults, then I can likely forgive THE Anti-Christ, Jesus Christ, Mary Mother of Jesus, and Mother Theresa herself. My grandchildren will someday have to forgive me for claiming to be all sorts of things I am not. My grandchildren will have to forgive me for reading the Bible until it fell apart in my hands, and then reading the Epic of Gilgamesh and Chaucer. My granbdshildren will have to forgive me for being a nasty woman and a slut, whore, hooker, and Bardass.

My grandchildren will have to forgive me for being a jester, who knows the history of jesters and who chose NOT TO ASSASSINATE TRUMP or anyone else if we go to war. My children will have to forgive their great-grandparents for screwing up their crazy grandma’s life. My grandchildren will have to someday get over “Grandpa worship” and become curious about their grandmas and her lineage, as well as their grandpa’s own history in order to realize what an amazing tale of incredible Bards and Badasses they came from. How many children will be able to claim to be the decedents of DR Ms. Morthan Ukanhandle, the Fairyfigmother, the SHE-Jesus, and THE Anti-Christ who was raised in a cult that got started in Eugene, Oregon?

How many children will be able to claim that their family helped build bridges such as the Siuslaw Bridge in Florence, as well as bridges between Pagans and Christians, Abusers and Victims, Heroes and Villains, Trinities and Triads, Dependents and Co-Dependents, Alcoholics and those with other forms of other progressive diseases such as Narcissism? How many will be able to even claim that their grandparents used to hustle pool and run around in the woods of Oregon picking huckleberries and chantrelles?

How many will be able to say that their grandma was a lunatic and proud of it? If the feds show up on my doorstep, they’d better be hotties, promise that my prison cell will be decorated by Martha Stewart herself, and that I will have my own personal chef. We might be able to cut a deal. Otherwise, I will just put on Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” and teach them to cut a rug and raise some money for their community problems.

If the en in white coats show up, they’d better be hotties and understand literature and Old Turner Classics such as “Meet John Doe.” They;d better also understand Jonathan Swift’s Modest Proposal, have read my poem called “A Quaint Complaint” and understand my excitement at having a vacation where people might actually listen to what I have to say as an educator who studies and researches social issues involving triangulated relationships in conjunction with the philosophy of Italian Prince Giovanni Mirandola and his links between Paganism, Christianity and Humanism. I understand why the Church Fathers of the 15th century shut him down at the age of 24 years old! His 900 questions were just too challenging!

Groups of delusionists who find enough others to see the world through their own delusional thinking can rule the entire world if they get everyone to agree to their insanity. Hitler tried and almost succeeded in dehunaizing and eliminating an entire race of people. I say it is the office of LOVING, CREATIVE, MISUNDERSTOOD children who grow up under the psychopathic leaders who convince them there is an enemy that doesn’t even exist in their own parents that are the true sickos.

Some days I think I married Trump back when I was 19. Some days I think I married Kim Jong Il, most days I am thankful I am still alive and just married a man who WOULD be king of his castle if given enough power and control. And, so Mr. Jones is. I have been Slaughtered.

Long live the QUEEN of England! That would be my mother-in-law. She’s already had enough trauma done to her by an American Veteran who stole her away from her homeland and brought her over here to also destroy mine from his abuse and sickness. Merrily, merrily, I say to them all: God REST our fliptard souls!

If I were a narcissist I might choose a name for myself that was so common that every time I saw anything to do with the last name of Jones, I might apply it to myself or my family, especially if I saw similarities in common sayings and slogans, such as “Keeping up with the Jones’s,” “Jonestown Massacre,” and Christian Patriarchal-based Cultic Universities such as Bob Jones University.

Of course I might apply those fun labels our whole world slaps around when I get my face slapped one too many times, and trustingly believe in a Christian God, a Patriarchal Leader, and then drink alcoholic kool-aid brought along on a romantic picnic in a four-pack of peach flavored Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers which eventually resulted in my character decimation and the loss of custody and relationship of all eight of my children immediately following a near death experience right before Trump came into office!

You just can’t trump my Trump Trauma experience! My white, European patriarchal narcissistic ex-husband who has the last name of Jones just takes the baby cakes! Maybe he is a baby Christian like Trump. He acts and looks just a little like Trump. He just doesn’t have as much money or power. But he has enough to decimate my life almost entirely as I continue to recover from him. Don’t even try to keep up with some Jones Families. We will outshine you and also beat your butts at Chess, pool, Monopoly, Basketball, football, poetry, dancing, growing flowers, raising animals, glass blowing, baking, cooking, excelling at school, making friends, partying, pirating, using the systems available to us, finding the best lawyers around, becoming the best lawyers around, educating intelligent and amazing dreamers and game changers who will rock this world till its upside down and backwards, hijacking hearts, and engaging in abusive and dramatic antics that result in one of the most amazing stories this world has never read about yet! You will raise a brood of children who really are God’s! They are also Gods! Except six of them. Those are Goddesses whose faces could launch a million ships headed out to battle for them! The other two children would be prophets.

I should know. Their dad and I gave birth to an amazing family of incredibly resilient and determined children who will all go VERY far in this crazy world! They have elements of both of their parents in them and so far we are both perfectly FINE! We are also well, and that is A DEEP SUBJECT.

We are also GOOD, and since only God is GOOD, we are whatever I say we are. We are AMAZINGLY different people who have a lot of beautiful gifts to offer this world. I am excited that I didn’t die in 2016 so that I can at least watch my children all finish growing up from afar as I continue to write up a storm as I was intended to do.

If I were a narcissist with a chip on my shoulder, I would be the biggest Narcissist I could be and just claim to be EVERYTHING. Then, I would begin seeing the Entire World being resurrected before my very eyes each day I live in the crazy fishbowl of Eugene and Springfield, Oregon. I would be praying for a knight in shining armor to arrive and rescue me from life, and then head into town and see a man waking down the street in full metal gear, complete with a shield and helmet. Only in Eugene where we all do our best to keep the whole world weird, not just Oregon.

Everything I say these days is the absolute TRUTH. I am beginning to believe truth is stranger than fiction, and that Shakespeare was right when he said all the world’s a stage and we are the actors! True that! I am so immersed in the truth of fantasy coming true at every turn in my life, that I walk out of the house and just assume I am on some Truman Show and in some realm, there are aliens watching every move I make for their entertainment pleasure!

Since I must have angels watching over me and my family, it’s all GOOD! It’s all GOD! I see Gods and Goddesses everywhere now. I see Angels and Demons, resurrected spirits from the past, and I think I even saw one of my children with his red hair walking by me. I haven’t seen him in months now.

I’m sure when I see my children again it will feel like seeing ghosts. They might not be children anymore and I will have to wonder about what kind of childhood and young adulthood they got to experience growing up under the fist of their father and his drive to create successful Republican Trump voters out of them all. Goooo McDonald’s It;s a bunch of Crock! Goooo NFL Superbowl! It’s riddled with corruption and is our new religion! Goooo Violence and Aggression and Gunslingers and the WILD WILD WEST! Goooo Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid! Gooooo School shootings and terrified chidlren who are damned if they are home-schooled and damned if they are public schooled!

Goooo Goonies and Captain Fantastic! Gooooo living off the grid and taking our chances with the crazies and homeless hiding out in the woods guarding their territories as they hide out form the lawlessness of our police force!

Goooo Freaky Scary Movies and Zombie Make-up! Goooo for hiding right out in public as a sane crazy woman who is a BIG Victor Hugo fan, a BIG pacifist at heart, but a woman who has so much deep-seated anger that I will let loose on you if you just try to threaten me in a dark alley. I just might play along if you try and force yourself on me. I just might bide my time and then bite that rapist’s dick off if I EVER hear of ANY of my children getting raped or molested, male or female. THOSE ARE GOD’S Children and I am sure the perpetrator would have the ENTIRE JONES FAMILY AFTER THEM!


Why in the hell do you think I haven’t kicked the hornet’s nest too hard yet? I am just waiting to see how awesome my children turn out to be! One might be a Butcher. One might be a Baker. One might be a Candlestick Maker. One might be a Badass Storyteller and writer like their momma and writing relatives that went before her! I am sure most of them will be well educated in life and in academics if they all get to live long enough.

Isn’t that the best hope we can all have for our children and their futures? I just pray we don’t go to war or a major earthquake finally hits, sliding the entire northwest shelf into the sea as it drops the Cascades down several feet. Then all of my angst is much ado about nothing anyway, right?

Maybe I will go back to writing what I can do well. Limericks. Satire. Maybe I will try and tackle the hot buttons of freedom of speech concerning the trinity of Taboos: Sex, Religion, and Politics. Or, Relationships, Power Struggles, and Money. Decisions, decisions. Someone is likely to get pissed if I happen to have an opinions that differs from their own.

No one knows my true opinions. Those are kept hidden in an inner sanctuary called my own personal Pandora’s Box, or maybe it is that Ark of the Covenant. Same thing. There’s nothing new under the sun, that’s for sure. A box, is a box, is a box, is a coffin, is a sarcophagus, is a pyramid, is a house, is a cabin, is a tent, is a tabernacle, is a temple. I am at home where ever I am. I am already so dead to this world, it is time to start really living again in my imagination! Reality sucks figs.

It is a weird experience to really begin to wonder if the Sixth Sense movie can be for real. It is really freaky to wonder if West World will actually take place some day. Freaky. Just freaky.

Like “Freaky Friday;” I was told once that I had a body like Jamie Lee Curtis. What a compliment. Except, I’ve birthed eight children from mine. I think my body is in better shape than hers will ever be! But, who cares except me?

I think this Friday I will just take my freaky self down to Blair Alley and dance my butt off to Prince and Madonna. Maybe I will see some dream vision dancing next to me and discover Jesus has arrived in my life to be my Savior.

Oregon born, Bardass Poet, Bat-Shit Crazy Stand-Up Comedian, Entertaining Social Activist, Mamadadaist Artist of 8 kids, Weirdo Wonder Woman, Narc Researcher