CHAPTER 26: The Overture [4th part]
From "The Saga of One F**ked Mother"
CHAPTER 26 of Mother-Fucking: The Saga of One Fucked Mother is “The Overture”, which precedes The Opera—a simile used to dramatize the final section of the book—the Family Court charade. [This chapter is too long for a newsletter so it is being posted in parts. This is the 4th part.]
In this part, Legion continues with her painstaking rebuttal of all the lies in Herry’s opening declaration. She had thought the truth would matter in a court of law. She is especially livid responding to the lies about how involved he was with parenting the boys, as she had done nearly 100% of all the hard, time-consuming work of raising and nurturing them.
In hindsight, Legion sees that the judge did not care one bit whether Herry was lying in his under-oath declaration, nor whether she was telling the truth in her rebuttal of all his lies. All that work and expense of getting the truth to the judge—for naught. Looking back, it was obvious the judge already knew what he was going to do. She has spoken with many other women since her Family Court “mother-fucking” who confirm judges let men get away with lying through their teeth.
In the last part, Legion fully realizes that Herry intends to get sole custody…She is incensed that Herry and the evaluator’s statements are considered facts and evidence, as there is no fact checking in Family Court.
Dr. Blue’s novel is based on her own experience of the Custody Crisis. It uniquely conveys how Family Court judges are “mother-fucking” women—a form of systemic oppression and violence directed at ex-wives—as protagonist Legion is systematically and methodically deprived of her children and money and reduced to “one fucked mother”.
Chapters are stand-alone interesting so you can begin reading anywhere. A Cast of Characters follows to help readers at any point [on the web page]. All published chapters are included in the Section: “Saga of One F**ked Mother” accessible on the top bar of the home page of Women’s Coalition News & Views. Sequential chapters are published every Wednesday and subscribers will find them in their inboxes, so make sure to subscribe if you haven’t yet!
TEASERS
The lies of Section B about Herry’s involvement as a father with his children are hilariously ridiculous, too. And, every fucked mother today 14 years out from these of Herry’s, tells me she reads in her “sworn” divorce and custody documents so such the very same ones. And they get away with them. Nearly all fathers do today, too.
Yeah Jury, it’s one example of the thousands and thousands and thousands [of lies] all over Acts One, Two and Three of a family civil court phenomenon known as ‘he‑said/she‑said’. We shall so read and hear many, many more of these thousands!”
The Overture [continued]
…Or, as icky are Herry’s sugary and honey statements about himself, especially about his fatherly fathering functioning. Those pieces are so funny to me now. Then, though, when I read them through the first several times, I was made simply livid by them: the obvious blatancy at the puffed‑up, hyped‑up chestiness of himself––of himself as “accountable Daddy”—to Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor.
Lumping these into Herry’s quoted phrases, his lies about me of Section B, “Marital History,” are:
i) “suffered from severe reactive depression disorder,”
ii) “the reason we got married,”
iii) “she dealt with small animals,”
iv) “her hours were from 8:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m.,”
v) “so she could nurse them,”
vi) “Legion then felt the job too stressful, so she quit and began to babysit our children,”
vii) “my salary as a resident was not enough for us to make financial ends meet, so Legion became employed,”
viii) “She worked the night round from noon until 10:00 p.m.”,
ix) “We were forced to employ many different babysitters,”
x) “In 1982, Legion expressed a desire to become a teaching member … so she enrolled in the University of Missouri,”
xi) “In June, 1986, Legion graduated,”
xii) “Because I wanted her to pursue her career, I turned down various jobs and opportunities,”
xiii) “In 1987, Legion lost her job,”
xiv) “Legion has remained unemployed since we left Manhattan,”
xv) “I have made a commitment to my wife that we would stay in Ames and the children would graduate from high school in Ames,”
xvi) “since my wife Legion is unemployed.”
Sixteen—regarding me alone! Supposedly detailing the history of his wedded union, Herry’s Section B is – but – almost all about me. And about me … negatively! Elaboration on just a few.
How does one nurse an already weaned child? Zane had already been weaned! He and Jesse did go to childcare providers but separate ones; that was one of the reasons I left the house’s door at 7:00 in the morning with two babies to go to a job that didn’t begin formally until 8 in a town only 13 miles away: so that I could drop off a 2½‑year‑old at one place with all that Zane needed and a ½‑year‑old at a caretaker of infants, someone different, with all that Baby Jesse needed. “And You, Herry?! You friggin’ slept in! You, O Slacker and Entitled Sperm Source, you slept in! Then on those same soooo cold, weekday mornings wherein I had dealt with the two babies’ labors, you bundled up only yourself and left the house to go mind‑rape vaginal exam models in OB-GYN laboratory! How hard a daily working parenting routine that must’ve been, huh, Daddee Herry?!” And—and … I was on call every single day and every single night for six months straight; there was no one else to take call on both large and small animals, not just small animals! “So, Herry, which of us two arranged for regular childcare? Which of us arranged for childcare on an emergent basis? Which of us arranged for childcare—at all?!?! Is this where you’re again going to project onto yourself that which, really now Self‑Centered Herry, that which we truly both know I—and only I—ever, ever did––since the fucking first time Zane ever needed a sitter?!”
And about the ‘too stressful’ part and that I was a ‘babysitter’ for our own children? “What the fuck is that, Parent Herry‑Daddee?! I fucking fell down on the cement floor. Collapsed. Flattened my exploding breasts right there in front of Miss Evelyn who was in to see me with a half a dozen of her 42 cats! She’s the one who fucking telephoned the UI Med School Dean’s office to ask them to go find you in class somewhere and have you come collect the dropped corpse on the concrete that was … me. She’s the one who stayed with me until you got there. Completely pissed off you were, too—‘member that? You drove the fucking 13 miles in dead silence. You didn’t even ask me what I thought could be wrong? Ya’ know, like say … exhaustion! Cuz you didn’t the fuck care what was wrong with me, did you, Husband Herry? And—and … you didn’t even go back to Solon to pick up Jesse or Zane from their respective care providers after you’d dropped me off at the trailer! You literal … Mother‑Fucker. Straight up.”
And as regards our financial ends meeting, did Herry write daJudge about the fact that from $10.00 per salaried veterinarian hour, I would after taxes, gasoline and childcare costs for three children under five years of age ... I would … I would, winter—and holiday—time 1980, with Mirzah then just 13 months old, Jesse not even 27 months old and Zane himself a mere four years and two months old, I would only clear $2.75 per hour?! ! !
“I literally begged you, didn’t I, Herry? Over and over I begged you to borrow for us the money to live on, to borrow from your wealthy, soooo wealthy, some of them older brothers and sisters, from at least one or two or so of the four truly wealthy ones of your ten other siblings, didn’t I, Herry, when we were in Hershey?! Mirzah was only a year old, Jesse 2 and Zane 4. And the one word that I got back from you––the only one I got back from you––about our borrowing from any one of these, your four siblings, was what, Herry?! You remember. ‘Cept you soooo conveniently forgot to tell Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor this. That word, for my leaving my babies when I so did not want to but you forced me to instead of our temporarily borrowing from your family––to clear a measly $2.fucking 75 an hour––was what Daddee Herry?
“solvent”
You said that $2.75 an hour was enough to keep us “solvent,” didn’t you, You Mother‑Fucker?! All just to save your fucking face in front of your family. No matter what my little, little Boys and I wanted. No fucking small, small matter … that!”
This ‘we employ’ thing? “I, it was I, wasn’t it Herry, who did absolutely all of the arranging for childcare? Never the fuck was it ever you!” Never the fuck any sort of ‘we’ about ANY part of the 26 in‑home childcare provider‑hires and six daycare facilities over 11 years’ worth, was there now … was there a ‘we’ to doing any of that childcare arranging! Truthfully, Herry?! Was there?!
And the expression of desire to go to Missouri? This is juuuust choice, this particular lie so is! Herry brought this up, and he fucking brought it up first! “Big reason why, too, isn’t there, Herry? Why you so desperately wanted to leave Pennsylvania and move to Missouri, isn’t there?––Right there in the very middle of your medical residency program?!? When hardly any such level of resident ever, ever does that?!? Anywhere?!? There is a biiiig, big reason why you wanted that, isn’t there, Slacker Herry? But how come, Herry, how come you did not tell Judge Seizor how it was that Dr. Shark—your supervisor—at Hershey had repeatedly turned you in to the Pathology Department administration on pink slip warnings?! For FUCKING UP AS A MEDICAL DOCTOR! ! ! Cuz of YOUR FUCKING POOR, POOR SLACKER WORK HABITS. Cuz of your fuck‑off work habits and procrastinations every single day and not having your work done and god knows what the fuck else! Like your trouble with taking orders from other men, your passive aggression, your narcissism and maybe they all knew about one‑fucking‑too‑many of your hospital coffee shop tête à têtes with all of your twatly lab techs! Didn’t they all? Didn’t Supervisor Shark?! He knew you to be an utter medical staffer fuckup, didn’t he?!”
“All of those hours and hours and hours you frittered away. Squandered, You Fucking Selfish Slacker, so we soooo just ‘had to have a lot of babysitters?’ Fuck that, Herry. You needed a lot of babysitters, both literally for your sons cuz you so were not there for them. And, figuratively. Cuz Dr. Shark and the other bosses couldn’t get you to willingly and cheerfully accept their authority over you and get their assignments to you fucking done correctly and in a timely manner! Now that is the fucking Truth, and you didn’t think I knew and Judge Seizor sure’s hell didn’t either, did he?! That it was you who wanted to leave Hershey because you couldn’t get along, and they were fucking firing you right there in the fucking middle of your residency, something pretty much unheard of, huh?! That is why we left Hershey for Missouri––instead of my taking graduate classes there! True that is. O so head bangingly true it is. Straight up.”
And this? O, this could so easily have been tangibly proved to a judge, too. Pink fucking slips evidentiarily scripted down regarding Dr. Herod Edinsmaier all over the pink fucking Hershey Medical Center personnel records’ landscape. But, no––never any such tangible proof did any judge see. Or, as a matter of lamentable fact, did any judge care to see.
I graduate not in June 1986! “In June 1986? In June 1986, Lying Herry, I am getting up at 4 am on every single Friday morning to drive four hours from Manhattan over to Columbia to sleep on cushions on my grad student office floor and then drive home Monday nights in June 1986, to be back to attend my children before beginning my first assistant professorship which did not start until July 1986. So no, Herry, I marched and was hooded on 01 August 1986, after two grueling summer months to finish totally and completely in four fucking years flat—absolutely fricking all there was to an entire PhD dissertation and degree program in Veterinary Microbiology which you cannot even fucking spell correctly—something most persons, female or male, with three babies under five years of age have no idea of even starting, let alone, are not capable of finishing. But I did. I did that, Herry, didn’t I? In four fucking years flat I did it all! And, no … no, no, no. No, soooo noooo, thanks for any of it to you. You, if you did anything at all, Herry, you so hindered me. You so fucked with me, didn’t you?”
“Two more I’ll make the effort of which to explain the Truths. If I can get over laughing so hysterically here. And those are the bloody ludicrous and mucked-up statements you, Daddee Herry, ... that you made about being ‘unemployed’ when a mama—when a mama anywhere—has three little kids. That one?! That one just fucking stands alone, so stupid and loud it is, doesn’t it, Jury? Soooo stupid! Soooo patriarchally stupid!”
And about Herry’s commitment to me and to the Truemaier Boys about us all staying in Ames for them to graduate high school?! I guess really the only explanation necessary here is this one: this is the mother‑fucking first time I’ve ever heard of such a commitment of Herry’s! In this affidavit, that is! In other words, Herry, there never was such an avowal of yours for true, was there?! Never before this affidavit! You fucking made that one up! Just to snow daJudge! Gosh, on that one, too, I just cannot stop laughing. Except for this reason. That here? With this particular lie of yours, Herry? How could there be such hard‑and‑fast proof to a judge that there ever really was or there wasn’t such a promise made at all? It was never written down so, Yeah Jury, it’s one example of the thousands and thousands and thousands all over Acts One, Two and Three of a family civil court phenomenon known as ‘he‑said/she‑said’. We shall so read and hear many, many more of these thousands!”
The lies of Section B about Herry’s involvement as a father with his children are hilariously ridiculous, too. And, every fucked mother today 14 years out from these of Herry’s, tells me she reads in her “sworn” divorce and custody documents so such the very same ones. And they get away with them. Nearly all fathers do today, too. Fathers, any kind of them, are back to wresting total custody away—that is, they are back to the taking of their perceived “ownership,” their self‑directed, self‑centered aprovechar—their taking away from biological and other mothers at a rate unparalleled for 75‑some odd years. But not since before about 1920, or 1930, though. Except for the last seven decades or so. In other words, at a rate just the very precise same as that for the last 12 millennia. Lies like Herry’s, besides the maleness‑like‑the‑pillared‑judge thing, are why, too.
i) “Zena” instead of Zane throughout the entire affidavit, not just Section B. For every instance where Zane is named in Herry’s sworn affidavit, Zane’s alleged “father” doesn’t get my firstborn’s first name correct ever. Ever. What does that say? I mean, what the fuck does that scream?!
ii) “Jesse, born December 15, 1978,”
iii) “From 1974 through 1978, we jointed shared in all child care responsibilities with the exception of bathing and breastfeeding. I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, and changed diapers. … the time demands required we equally share the child caring responsibilities,”
iv) “During the 1978-79 school year, I commuted back from Iowa City to Ames every weekend,”
v) regarding Hershey, “we needed a babysitter,”
vi) “because Legion was working nights, I would get up in the morning to care for the children and attend to their morning needs,”
vii) “However, at night I cared for the children. At this stage of the boys’ lives, toilet training became important. Because my wife Legion is deaf in her left ear, when the children would get up in the middle of the night, as they often did, they would come and wake me up and I would tend to their toilet and other nightly needs,”
viii) “I became quite involved in taking care of the children during this period of time,”
ix) “I played a primary role in deciding the choice of school, and the age in which the children would enter school,”
x) “I continue to hold their education part of their wellbeing and my main concern in life,”
xi) “I have done everything I could to help [Zena] accomplish that [art] skill,”
xii) “On Mondays, Fridays, and on the weekends, however, I helped to those things. We employed no babysitters on those days I was home,”
xiii) “I still helped with all child rearing responsibilities,”
xiv) “I consider the children to be my primary responsibility regardless of how tired I may be ... But my first commitment is to my kids … I made a commitment to my children that we would stay in Ames and the children would graduate from highschool in Ames.”
How many are these? Fourteen? Just in The Lie Department alone to daJudge, I—I, Legion True ... that’s Doctor Legion True,—I rate more lies about me from Herry than do even all three kids! Well, that––that right there must be something upon which to brag, not?!
But about them, those lies about the kids? Jesse? Born 15 December? “Shit, Herry, that means you up and fucked this mother that I so am right after, well, … probably in the goddamn hospital delivery room, doesn’t it?! Like the vag exam models you were mind‑raping back in med school? Why do I say that? Why? Well, do the frickin’ math, So‑Many‑Degreed Herry. How in the hell, if you didn’t fuck me right there and then after I’d immediately just bulldozed Jesse out, then how in the hell did I go on to grow, also propel out and begin lactating Mirzah in just nine months and two weeks later!?!”
“JYeah, I know you knew I, twice, twice in just that nearly identical four‑year length of time, I, Legion was gestating and lactating at the very same goddamn time—twice! Pregnant with Jesse and nursing Zane, then pregnant with Mirzah but yet still nursing Jesse. Hence, the reason for the exhaustion collapse onto the fucking Solon veterinary practice’s floor with Miss Evelyn, we come to find out the next day when I—alone, of course—visit my doctor, don’t we, Herry? Don’t we?! You, Husband Herry, who did absolutely fucking nothing as a spouse, let alone, as a scientist or as a physician about birth‑controlling! But, hey, even for me, being fucked and impregnated right there on the delivery room table in order to shell out Mirzah in just another nine months flat, ... even for me!, that’s damn near mighty fuckin’ miraculous, Mormony Catholic Herry! ! !”
“So Jesse wasn’t born on 15 December, was he, Herry, but exactly four months earlier than that, wasn’t he, Herry—that is, on 15 August instead!? What another hoot! The so‑called “father” of child #2—and a man of medicine at that—can’t even get Jesse’s fucking birthday, ah, er … that’s Jesse’s birthing day … correct! Yet I’m the one who went into that courtroom the first and every time after Act One thinking … believing … that this sort of thing would matter to Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor—about who was primary in our lives and for whom were we each primary––when … it, so very clearly, never did matter! In just telling this—it becomes even more so when considering all of your lies of how responsible and of how accountable you swear that you were, Herry? Getting up in the goddamn nighttime with the Boys, getting up in the morning with the Boys and having them ready for the goddamn day. These? These lies projecting onto yourself that which I am responsible, truly responsible for, fucking diss me the most—because, god knows and so does every other mother whether single, staying married or becoming single again, that the Boys and I soooo could have used that accountability from you. Every one of us mothers can, but this daJudge already knows before you even lie to him. His ‘Honor’, daJudge, has lied to himself about how it is that his ex‑wife only ‘babysat’ his four daughters like you, too, called my mothering––my parenting––of the very own babies whom I alone … grew! … ‘babysitting,’ Herry. daJudge tells himself, too, just how splendid and just how fantastic a housekeeper and a mighty fine childcare provider he, too, was. So when you say you are, you did, you made, you got up, you coached, you drove, you cleaned, you cooked, you encouraged art and mechanics––you soooo sacrificed your own wants and desires because you gave the Boys your very all––? Why, … you are soooo, so fucking good at it and that you, most importantly here, will now quite definitely keep that all up and that that’s why you should be given full physical care custody, why, fuck, Herry, you’re home free with … with ‘His Honor’: the goddamn lying‑to‑his‑own‑self Mr. Also‑Pillared Judge Man!”
“But, hey Herry, you better here not lie toooo goddamn well. Or, you just might! You can, for chris’sake! You can end up having physical custody of all three of my Truemaier Boys and then you really, really having to do it all alone like I, in Truth, did do! Ha! Herry! You better watch it here with this sugar and honey slop of yours to daJudge! And lastly, Herry, regarding that I‑am‑so‑accountable‑to‑my‑kids lie #iv), the one where you were supposedly commuting back and forth every weekend the year of 1978 to 1979? What a grueling toll on you that must’ve been: why, boo‑hoo, boo‑fucking‑hoo, poor you, poor you … Huh? And so, too, would daJudge so surely think it hard and soooo parentingly committed of you to’ve done, not? Well, really though, Herry, what about that? Is that—any of it—True?! I mean I finished and graduated from veterinary medical school on a Saturday morning in the middle of May 1978, Jesse well long into my belly some six months already with Baby Zane in tow, and began working––I did––at the Solon, Iowa, practice the very next Monday morning because we were all, by then, moved and living in that coral‑colored trailer on the edge of Iowa City! Soooo: why whatever for then, Herry, were you––as you swear that you were––driving every mother‑fucking weekend back and forth to Ames from 1978 to 1979!? Weeeell, that just didn’t quite happen that way, did it? Not for even oooone weekend did you ‘sacrifice’! Not even at all!!”
“Section C is the funniest, though. Truly. The Boys are not mentioned so I feel very little sorrow with regard to C and read there, Truly, only the sick humor of Herry’s! The 51 words about how he drank booze, beer alone it was, Jury, but saw the Light! And sought the Light! JYeah, riiiight, Herry, since 1977, you spent all of those years in self‑improvement, did you?!? Noooot!!! Not since 1977, did you get fucking help from anyone, least of all from alcoholics anonymous or even maintain a membership there! What a load of crockshit, Herry!” This would’ve, too, been so easily tangibly proved––had Judge Seizor simply ordered it to be so tangibly proved––which, of course, … he soooo did not.
And C’s entire second paragraph, all only about Dr. Legion True and my long and deep sufferings of bookoo disorders within disorders! That is so funny. I never even knew till rereading this now as I typed it that I suffered codependency from Husband #1 John’s problems with drugs! John smoked pot now and then: let’s see, back this would’ve been before, during and just after Woodstock to which we hitchhiked together in mid August of 1969, and he did a couple of hits of LSD after that I think, and hhmmm, what else? Nothing. Nothing of which I ever knew! Perhaps he had done more, but I didn’t know of it. ‘Problems with drugs’ I did not know John to have had; he smoked marijuana but not even that regularly and functioned in his day job as a New York City travel trade magazine writer just fine. And liked it! No problems of which I ever knew. Let alone, of which … I ever told Herry! “Now? Now I am having to defend, defend, defend … for a person—John—whom Herod Edinsmaier hasn’t even met! Never even one time—yet Herry soooo knows, doesn’t he, Your ‘Honor’, … and is, carte blanche, permitted by you to disparage even John!”
“And not only is there no Regional Substance Abuse Center, but I was the ‘fall of 1987’, Herry, fucking coaching Mirzah’s soccer team, the one for which you so flamboyantly volunteered to be the coach, wasn’t I?! But you only showed up twice! Two times only! And then with no funky soccer mamas to scope out, suddenly you couldn’t, by its season’s very third practice, … you, Dr. Herod Edinsmaier, you just couldn’t seem to get away to coach anymore at all! … so that I went on to do all of your sessions that entire autumn. I never had any time for therapy: I was working! As a parent! As … the primary parent!”
“And ‘the violent temper’ pronouncement? Here was more projection onto me, Jury, and, this time, all of the blame, too! Let’s recap here for real, Herry. The Truth. On this thing, Herry, deal. Deal with it. Straight up. Literally dead serious.”
“I am not the one here, Herry, who goes ballistic at the mere mention in your earshot vicinity of the two words, ‘gay guy’, am I? Not only am I the veterinarian and you the pathologist, I the caretaker and healer of living creatures not even able to tell me what feels wrong with them and you the dead‑carver and tissue‑splitter who doesn’t even have to try to relate to his ‘patients’––literally––at all; but it was you, Doctor‑“Healer” Herod Edinsmaier, you, Herry, who actually handed that mother at the Columbia morgue door her very own dead three‑year‑old child, naked, without so much as a crib sheet covering its lifeless corpse. That was you, too, Dr. Edinsmaier, you who right out loud mocked and chortled, you who snorted and sneered and sniggered at me every single time I spoke to you or anyone else within your range of hearing about … the mother‑child bond. At that––at the bond between child and mother––you Herry, you actually fucking laughed. Every single time. Must be why, Herry, you could actually threaten both Zane and me with Zane’s death, couldn’t you? Besides the violence of your woman‑hating pornography that you consumed with my little ones, you actually threatened to kill my child, too, didn’t you, Herry? And just the very year before! So I am not talking about the cold, late November when Robyn and Robin, thank goodness, were home when I so needed them, am I, cuz that happened in Columbia in the presence of all three of my even littler sons then, didn’t it? When you physically hoisted me up onto your shoulder and flung me over your back like a bag of feed or a sack of some much shittin’ waste. And threw me out of my home. My own home. You, “The Good Doctor,” did that, and then you up and locked me clean out of it. For two days and two cold, November nights. Away from my home and away from my babies. And I had to ask my friends, Robyn and Robin, for a temporary place to crash! No, Herry, I’m not talking about your earlier years of brutality, tyranny and terrorism; I’m talking about Othello Drive right here in Ames––inside it and behind it. How come ya’ left this one out of your affidavit to daJudge Man, Herry? It’s not like a year later when writing and submitting this affidavit to ‘The Court,’ ya’ couldn’t’ve remembered having perped it, is it?! You threatened to hurl Zane into the swollen and raging and so‑freezing Squaw Creek behind our home in the damned Brookside Forest that last spring of 1988. With Jesse who was 9 and Mirzah, just 8, huddled and gaping on together back up on the deck, Herry. So afraid they were that you were coming back up there for the two of them next. So was I! You were going to throw them in, too, weren’t you? Or threaten to. And we all knew it. It was just a matter of your coming back up there to the deck for them, too. I am down on my mother‑fucking knees clinging to Zane’s legs … begging and begging and begging You, the Good and Wonderful Doctor, not to kill him. This, followed it was by your ever, ever famous snide smirkface squint of … ‘Gotcha, Bitch!’, this death threat of killing my child – after Zane, just age 11, had jumped up onto your back trying his damnedest to get you, Daddy Dearest, off … of me! You had me, Dear Doctor Sperm Source of my children, pinned down—your knee crushing my breastbone—to the master bed with your raised and clenched fist threatening my left periorbital bone, eye, forehead and cheek, hadn’t you?! You whirled up and around, swept up Zane and ran with him, him now pinned into your clutch to the riverbank with me rushing and begging behind, and Jesse and Mirzah staring on aghast and so full of fear. You did that, Herry. You and you alone. Just the year before this very affidavit! Your children come first, do they? At all times even? So accountable are you with their responsibilities, are you? Just right on top of it at all times? Riiiiiight, Dr. Edinsmaier, I’ll say you are. You just keep on telling daJudge that fuck. You know he never checks for sure, does he? You know that. For certain you do, doncha’?”
These pillared male judges about whom Dr. Herod Edinsmaier soooo, so looks quite like? Why, they’ll never, never, ever check out Liar Herry’s stories for how real, for how True—or not—they are, will they?! “You so, so know this one wee fact, don’t you?! They will not. So it ends up, doesn’t it, O Great Fathering One … that cuz of who you actually resemble in maleness and in pillaredness, … … that it is soooo, soooo easy to lie to and to deceive anyone inside an American civil court of ‘law’ and get clean, slick away with it, isn’t it?! You literal Mother‑Fucker!”
[to be continued]
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dr. Legion True: One Fucked Mother
Dr. Herod (Herry) Edinsmaier: Legion’s husband/Sperm Source [“re: I am snide” backwards]
Zane Truemaier: Legion’s son
Mirzah Truemaier: Legion’s son
Jesse Truemaier: Legion’s son
AmTaham True: Legion’s father [Mahatma backwards]
Mehitable True: Legion’s mother [Me hit-able—i.e. she was abusive]
Ardys and Endys: Legion’s sisters [names backwards]
Sterling: Legion’s brother [her mother’s planned name of next son (who never came)]
Mi Sprision O'Revinnoco: Herry’s sister [misprision: concealing knowledge of treason/O'Revinnoco = O'Connivero backwards]
Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier: Legion’s father-in-law [juggernaut; aut = 0; misein = “to hate (misogyny)”]
Detanimod Edinsmaier: Legion’s mother-in-law [dominated backwards]
Ava Saffron True and Zebulon True: respectively, Legion's paternal grandmother and her husband, Legion's paternal grandfather
Rowland and Wyman Natures: respectively, Legion's most favored uncle and most favored male first cousin
Fannie Issicran McLive: fawning enabler of ex [narcissi(st) and Mc(Evil) backwards]
Legion’s Friends: Margaret, Mona, Yanira, Stormy, Lynda, László, Jane, Kincaid, Joseph, Sheryl
Legion’s Best Friends: Ms Grace and Dr Lionel Portia
Wende: = Legion's friend after divorce [committed suicide due to Custody Crisis]
Jim Cornball: Herry’s acquaintance from AA and realtor
Loser Lorn: Insurance agent referred by Cornball
Judge Harley Butcher: Family Court judge
Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor: Family Court judge
Judge Barry Crowrook: Appellate Court judge
Judge Pansy Shawshank: Appellate Court judge
Jazzy Jinx: Legion’s Family Court lawyer who sold her out
Shindy Scheisser: Herry’s lawyer [shindy = noisy; scheisser = German for shithead]
Li Zhang: Herry’s Aussie affair
Dr Freddie Goldstein & Ella: Herry’s colleague and wife
Mick: = Herry's acquaintance from high school; best man [not in Herry’s life after that as he had no true friends]
Varry Wussamai: Herry's AA sponsor (not a real friend) [I am a wuss backwards]
David Humes: nursing student; classmate of Legion's, y1968 - y1971, New York City
Edmund Silver: Legion's boyfriend pre-Herry
Braemore St: where Legion and her family lived, y1983 - y1986
Havencourt condominium: Legion's Ames apartment; after separation
Zephyr: tabby cat of Zane's, Mirzah's, Jesse's [pronounced “Zay – fear”]
Madonna: realtor
Larry Brouhaha: court-mandated marriage counselor
Carlotta Klutz: Legion’s Family Court attorney
Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor: District Court judge on first two trials
Judge Harley Butcher: District Court judge for third trial
Dr. Shark: Herry’s residency supervisor who fired him
Carrie Canard: custody evaluator
Author: Dr. Blue, aka Ofherod, BSN, DVM, PhD = Commander Edinsmaier's Handmaid (Commander reiamsnidE's Handmaid)
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