CHAPTER 28: The Opera: Act III; Part 4 [cont.]
From "The Saga of One F**ked Mother
In this next section of Chapter 28, Legion ponders how Herry could have been given total legal control of the boys. She bemoans how she is not even being allowed supervised visits, when judges commonly order visitation with abusive and criminal fathers, even when they are in prison, and even when they have murdered the mother. She warns women who are contemplating separation from the “sources of spermatozoa” that they have a good chance of becoming the “next mothers fucked”.
Legion also laments how there are so many “male-identified” women who will not support her or help her keep or protect her boys, including members of her own family and Herry’s, one of whom is a pediatrician. Worse, their attitude is that she should “just get over it”—as if a mother who’s had her children taken away and given to an abuser can just “move on” (perpetrator enabler mantra).
In the last section, Legion continues to meet with her boys clandestinely. She is angered about Herry and his new wife not giving them the many gifts she has sent and trying to make her “The Invisible Mother”. She is horrified when Mirzah later tells her he cannot remember anything about their lives before being taken away from her. Herry succeeded in his goal of erasing her—all her love and nurturing, as well as all the fun times together—from their minds and hearts.
CHAPTER 28 of Mother-Fucking: The Saga of One Fucked Mother begins with Act III, Part 4 of “The Opera” from Book 3. The Opera has three Acts with five Parts—one for each of the three Family Court and two Appellate Court trials. Chapter 28 covers all of Act III: Part 4: the third Family Court trial and Part 5: the second Appellate trial. [This is a long chapter and will be published in newsletter-sized bites.]
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—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 so make sure to subscribe if you haven’t yet!
TEASERS
And to lose the children … over to the ex‑husband’s complete control––yet to actually be neither of those two conditions, crazy or criminal? Who the fuck ever did that?! Well, exponentially and rampantly so the family law courts do.
[E]ven murderers of their own children’s mothers get to have her kiddos brought to the slammer for visits with the dead woman’s babies and brought there by way of the murdered woman’s loved ones! ‘What measure of ultimate insult is this?’ I ask myself. And I answer me back, ‘The Standard Measure, Dr. True. The androcentric Standard Measure, Woman.’
‘If you are Not Males contemplating growing a child or separating yourselves physically, and in any or all other respects, from men who are the sources of spermatozoa which have fertilized your ova and developed subsequently the boy and DEhuman children whom you alone have, also, already chosen to grow, beware. Be ever so aware of your mighty fine chances at becoming the very next mothers fucked…’
BOOK 3: Dr. True's Opera in Three Acts—with Five Parts
CHAPTER 28: The Opera: Act III; Part 4 [cont.]
To lose parental rights is a truly, truly huge deal, not just constitutionally, and next to personal and individual freedom, that is, freedom to just walk around pretty much however it is that I want to, it is the most massive of human rights lost––in my opinion. The revocation of such rights is defined by worldwide society in general by only a very few conditions when those liberties are canceled from those of us who are the DEhuman beings. When women lose all legal rights to their own babies, society states that in so narrow terms. Ones that can only be happening––surely––because of such certain, overwhelmingly heinous offenses. Specifically those involving mamas abusing illicit drugs or imbibing alcohol or her committing crimes of prostitution and other whoring matters including mom’s participation in any way with pornography. Or … she must be crazy. Certifiably so, I should hope and one would think. A true and bizarro whacko. Or, lastly, … she is both criminal and certifiable.
But to lose the kids … over to the imprisoning whimsy and entire choice‑making of one’s ex‑husband? Who the fuck ever heard of that?! Except … with regard to so‑disposed terrorists and all Americans of the 16th, 17th, 18th and 19th Centuries. And all of the humans and DEhumans … Worldwide … before that.
And to lose the children … over to the ex‑husband’s complete control––yet to actually be neither of those two conditions, crazy or criminal? Who the fuck ever did that?! Well, exponentially and rampantly so the family law courts do. ‘The Courts’—still so only Male, everywhere including everywhere in America and anywhere else that some type of a male supreme god worship or patriarchal religion exists and that the Second Wave of Feminism has finally entered, flourished and thrived—they, these mother‑fuckers, do this.
Only Grace Portia knew to hold daJudge and ‘the Court’ suspect, American though these be. Only she did. In addition to Dr. Herod Edinsmaier––and his employee, of course, Mr. Shindy Scheisser.
I still did not. And did not truly believe Grace’s repeated warnings to me. I trusted. Stupidly I the Idiot strode into ‘the Court’ ’s rooms every fucking single time and trusted. Raised that right hand of mine, affirmed all over the goddamn testimonial landscape, I did. And fuckingly told the literally mother‑fucking Truth––as if it actually mattered to do so, I did. “If you are Not Males contemplating growing a child or separating yourselves physically, and in any or all other respects, from men who are the sources of spermatozoa which have fertilized your ova and developed subsequently the boy and DEhuman children whom you alone have, also, already chosen to grow, beware. Be ever so aware of your mighty fine chances at becoming the very next mothers fucked.
If that haploid sperm‑cell exalter i) has any semblance of clout at all in the community and ii) presses for the children, if he actually makes nice to ‘the Court’ like he truly wants the custody of the kids [“ … Mind you, Jury, I purposefully did not state ‘wants … the work … of the custody of the children,’ did I?”], if he actually makes nice to ‘the Court’ … then, DEhumans, know this and know it very, very well: with the tenor of ‘the Court’ utterly against anything that smacks the slightest of Not Males’ independence, such as feminist thinkings or trappings, plus anything that strikes as the possibility of … your defiance … against the male gods of power and control, then you, Mama, … you are fucked. You are mother – fucked.”
Jesse was the one this particular Friday evening, 25 October 1991. Jesse was the child whom I found at a soccer practice which was running a bit later than usual. DeAndré and Jesse and I all walked together from the field to the side street one block from the main thoroughfare intersecting with 69th before Jesse bid DeAndré goodbye, and the two of us escaped alone to the front seat of the surreptitiously parked station wagon. No small thing our Ol’ Black Beater wagon, but it had to be easier for me to cover its tracks, I am thinking, than for Humvee Herry to conceal those of the Edinsmaiers’ Chevrolet! Somber now, Jesse said little, a not uncommon condition for him. But I, too, did not feel like speaking; both of us were just antsy as hell though. There in the autumnal darkness my one hearing ear, ever poised in Jesse’s verbal direction, heard two of the saddest sentences it ever has, “If I’m taken away to live in another state, I know I won’t ever be a kid again in Iowa, Mom. I won’t ever again come back to Iowa as a child; I just know it.” These Jesse, facing straight ahead of himself to the east from the car’s passenger side, articulated to the night air hanging in front of the blackened windshield. He did not look at me, he did not shake his head, he did not smile; Jesse was as deadpan as always my friend, Dr. Lionel Portia, is. But with Lionel I never, ever am worried about strictured breathing, gastrointestinal turmoil, brain death––and heartbreak.
I wanted to cry, and I am thinking that Jesse would have––had there been any more time he could have spent with me; but the practice had run over and Sheriff McLive’d be on her appointed‑rounds’ lookout for him, we thought. “O Jesse. O my,” I said out loud and my head did shake and my right hand covered my lips. Inside my heart broke, too, and it said just to my Self alone, “My, my … my, my, my. Whatever made you think of this, Jesse? What the hell is going on inside that house which Herry Edinsmaier chooses to say is your ‘home’?” Jesse and I had had no clue of Liar Herry’s charming ‘promise’ to Custody‑Evaluator Carrie Canard and to Judge Sol Wacotler Seizor ‘to keep all three of the Truemaier Boys in schools in Ames’ or expanded now to include Urbandale … but, at least, still in Iowa––and close by me.
We had had, in always the blathering and mother‑fucking drivel of Ms. Fannie Issicran McLive, “no idea” of this written statement of the pillared Good Doctor––––filed and tucked far off away in some court’s catacombs somewhere because it certainly was not tucked away inside the frontal lobes of Dr. Herod Edinsmaier’s, Ms. Fannie McLive’s, Ms. Canard’s or daJudge’s brains anywhere … accessible. Nor from what I could tell at this point the minds of the Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier patriarch or Herry’s famous sister, Ohioan Dr. Mi Sprision O’Revinnoco, a pediatric oncologist and, therefore, a pediatrician and, therefore too and most importantly, a mandatory reporter. Not only a parent, she, but also a mandatory reporter! One required to report abuse … … abusive crimes! But apparently this pediatrician needed to report to ‘the authorities’ or to intervene on the behalves of children … only when the kinds of abuses fit her specific definitions thereof. And, of course, none of ‘those’ about which Her Special‑Brother, Pillared‑Male Daddee‑Herry, was … perping. Just those which were male‑identified … judicially … as abuse––––and none of those, particularly to boy children, which are morally wrong because they are mightily woman‑loathing! None of that of which Sister Mi Sprision not only knew but had actually herself witnessed occurring. On multiple occasions this parent, this mother, this mandatory reporter, this scientist, and obviously this entirely male‑identified female, had seen it all––and not only had reported nothing of it to official authorities, but she had reported in a formally authoritarian, pediatrician‑like manner nothing amiss to her spouse, let alone to her sibling, the (also) Good Doctor Edinsmaier … nor, for sure, to his Next Cunt in the Stash, all four of them just a‑genuflectin’ as fast as their eight, fat 40‑something kneecaps would take them on down! Devout christians now allegedly, the lot of ‘em––or, at least, demonstratively. And she, Dr. Mi Sprision O’Revinnoco, one of the scriptures’‑spoutingest females of Herry’s gazillion sisters and brothers … despite her scientific brain which certainly knew differently, wouldn’t even help me, another DEhuman with a brain, one acknowledging and operating on … … reason!
I have found Dr. O’Revinnoco’s inertia unconscionable. I have never forgotten it. I asked her once for her help both as a parent and as a medical doctor and, thusly, a mandatory reporter and allegedly a recognizer of abuse of the country’s littlest human beings. I needed another Edinsmaier female––and preferably her because Mi Sprision, as I have explained … before, was the only one who was also a parent––to help me in standing up for something which was the Right Thing to Do for small Boys’ well‑being. To help me stand up firmly against the workings of Herry, Juggern and two of Herry’s brothers long ago. The issues involved both boating and life‑jacket safety and the wisdom of the babes’ not at all motorcycle‑riding back then.
Dr. Mi Sprision O’Revinnoco, the only one of Dr. Edinsmaier’s five female siblings who has, of their own choosing, ever borne or by, any other means, put into their lives any small children on a regular basis at all. At a family gathering my asking occurred and only the one time––long before the deepening shit began hitting that family’s fan. Only to see Mi Sprision take the turn then that she later would continue to also take with me again when ‘the Court’ at this latter time entered the Truemaier Boys’ picture: the turn that was her very blind‑eye, I‑so‑cannot‑go‑up‑against‑the‑ruling‑Edinsmaier‑men one. Dr. Mi Sprision O’Revinnoco displayed only scorn and contempt for mothering, for sure, and truly too for the legitimacy that mandatory reporting needs to have in order for its command to be effective in keeping safe, well and healthy the nation’s and the world’s children. Her choice with regard to obeying the mandate, the moral thing to do? The Right Thing to Do? For that, the Right Thing to Do she flaunted only disdain and disrespect––when she did not come to the aid of these imprisoned Truemaier Boys. She and her spouse, along with all other of Brother Pillar’s siblings, sightlessly took up their programmed‑into‑silence roles: nothing more than the Emperor’s double‑dealing slacker‑lackeys in King Edinsmaier’s Empire.
I hardly expected any of The Edinsmaier Patriarchs’ other four daughters or sisters to do one thing to help me. As a matter of fact, I truly did not believe that any other of that particular fuckly religious clan, female or male, would lift a kindly finger. I knew them all, had even once asked by telephone a brother close in age to Herry for help. Nothing from him but sarcasm, ridicule, derision, mockery and laughter, outright guffawing, back to me, the outsider DEhuman. Especially … about things or matters of sexual abuse or people sexually addicted. Quite in androcentric line with how all of the pranging, prongless men of the roman catholic hierarchy have handled their ‘dealings’ today! Were I to have, instead, been seeking mother‑fucking, roman catholic or christian, genuflecting, cross‑forming, verse‑spewing, dirty little secretly pornography‑consuming hypocrites, none of them including the male‑identified DEhuman ones as is Dr. Mi Sprision O’Revinnoco, supposedly brilliant and supposedly a “protecting” mandatory reporter of known crimes against children, … none of them would have disappointed me in that regard! Textbook cases all of them, “Hear no evil, see no evil, speak not one damn word to help the Crazy Bitch out! I’ma jus’ keepin’ m’mother‑fuckin’ mouth here … shut the fuck up!”
The King’s five other brothers themselves––each a classic case of either liberal, progressive, Stoltenberg’s men‑of‑conscience, leftist, peace‑now mentality or of religious, rightist, family‑values’ venom––are, every last one of them, DEhuman oppressors. I do not recall one holiday collection or family outing where any of the males did anything in Detanimod’s kitchen––except on a truly sporadic occasion. And, most certainly, although as well as eating gargantuan quantities these guys most regularly shit out same!, never, ever did a one of the men scour Detanimod’s … and Juggern’s … two toilet bowls.
Fifteen or 20 minutes on one food‑preparation project, perhaps,––and most likely … that … of their very own beverages such as whacking open a couple of beer cans or possibly adding ice cubes and water to even just one container of frozen lemonade concentrate! Then? Then the Edinsmaier men went missing outta the kitchen––and specifically and quite often––could be found right next door inside the front room at where each planted himself in front of a sports program or the latest game on TV. Or else … he ran the bases outside and just slung back those beers and ladled‑for‑himself‑alone lemonades on the porch‑patio’s concrete jawing there with another. Never did these men––at the huge labors which their Edinsmaier family occasions entailed––work. At the successes of a family get‑together. Although … quite the passel of persons this getting‑together always, always, always meant for an Edinsmaier affair.
No wonder Detanimod Edinsmaier died young. She had had to. In order to receive for herself that blesséd peace which every man in her life coveted for himself but which he, not even in his adulthood as a regular and daily routine, would not give back to his mother. Let alone, to his own spouse and her own daughters.
Takers. Aprovechar–Takers.
All five Edinsmaier men mawwied––and married young enough to be, themselves, active in the raising up of the little, little kiddos. Unlike the five Edinsmaier women, all five Edinsmaier men’s wives did choose to grow and to bear biological children! Might’ve had, undoubtedly, something to do with the Edinsmaier men choosing … for them, their wives ... choosing for them to grow and to bear him children, however.
Two Edinsmaier men’s wives each grew and bore three daughters a piece. One of Herry’s brothers’ wives grew and bore three children, two of them DEhuman as well. A fourth brother’s wife had two children, both DEhuman. But a fifth brother’s wife had four humans … that is, this woman had managed to grow and to bear for her husband, that most luckiest of Edinsmaier patriarchs, all and only four ... boy babies.
So only Herod, because of my three Truemaier Boys, and one other brother out of all of the six Edinsmaier men whom Detanimod grew and bore were the sources of haploid cell spermatozoa that consistently and exclusively resulted in more human beings. Only two products of Detanimod Edinsmaier’s 14 gestations did that––in the 20 consecutive years’ time, the mid 1930s (when it was still, thanks to Anthony Comstock’s male‑legislating ilk … get this! = most illegal and punishable! a crime! to USPS‑mail birth control … information!) through to the mid 1950s, when Juggern Aut Misein Edinsmaier so regularly and routinely kept poking and impregnating her and forcing then the nonstop operation of the machining container that was for The Patriarch of Patriarchs … Detanimod’s baby‑producing uterus.
The rest of Juggern Aut’s third‑generation progeny were almost exclusively DEhumans. And Herod Edinsmaier’s brothers not only knew it, of course, but they also treated their female children then, and do so today, as they themselves soooo expect … not … to be. As the DEhumans whom they, the daughters most certainly are. The Edinsmaier brothers who were fathers also started this treatment when the DEhumans of theirs were very tiny. By these men demonstrating to the daughters their very own basic behaviors in their very own mother’s (and Juggern’s, too, of course) kitchen, behaviors that quite centered around the most basic of human being needs. That is, around the gathering in of foodstuffs, its subsequent preparation and then finally the cleaning up of the dirtied dishes. The DEhumans, and only the DEhumans, wait upon the humans, the men’s daughters learned. Soft, deferent and … above all, servile, these many, descendent, Edinsmaier‑daughtering DEhumans, also learned. Mehitable True liked them. Of course.
* * * *
To lose parental rights means specific things alright to a society that never really and truly has to deal with it, however. And that same society does not, at any cost, want the DEhuman to have to either. It does not want to help her deal; it just wants her to exactly do the opposite––and to not deal with it at all . “And while you’re not dealing with it at all, then do that not‑dealing with it at all somefuckingwhere else, by the way, Broad. And then for goodness’ sakes, Bitch, get the fuck over it! And right now, Woman. And stop the fuck talking about it. We all don’t wanna hear about it! JGeeeesh, ya’ Stupid – Ass Heifer! Shut the fuck up about it all already, ya’ hear?! Got that, Witch?!” Ask Rachel or ask me. This? This is what we hear either tacitly or right out loud to our very faces every day––every single, damned day. Rachel didn’t even lose complete and total parental rights to her now seven‑year‑old whom she‑alone‑grew out of the one, lone spermatozoon from husband number 1 and, at last, bore … and yet she still hears it.
But it certainly means definite things to me, the mother who is no mother and, if anything like a mother, then The Invisible Mother. One of the no‑rights I, the DEhuman parent, have is any sort of a say‑so in where my babies end up. Some noncustodial parents have a right to stop another from physically moving too, too far away––––especially the fathers of all echelons and levels in class status and of any residency, race, ethnicity, religious creed or from other sperm‑exalting formats; these dudes seem to have this right. Not just the pillared, noncustodial ones but all of the noncustodial fathers seem to have this … everywhere they are and all of the time––––and I am referring here to the United States family courts’ decrees!
Even for fathers presently residing inside any form of the United States penal system! Even for fathers who have, for chris’sake, killed these children’s mothers! That is, the children out of whose now‑dead mothers they were grown with the imprisoned men’s haploid sperm cells! Hell, these men have judges who have not only ordered the men to have visits with the children borne out of uteri belonging to women whom they have murdered; but the same mother‑fucking judicial system, these male judges, order that the dead mama’s family, that is her mama, her sisters, her aunts, her grandmother, her sisters‑in‑law, the people who loved her … they, themselves … are ordered to have to make the drive of their grandchildren or of their nieces and nephews or of their great‑grandchildren to the prisons for the express purpose of these killers having granted to them their court‑ordered visits with these children. So—even murderers of their own children’s mothers get to have her kiddos brought to the slammer for visits with the dead woman’s babies and brought there by way of the murdered woman’s loved ones! “What measure of ultimate insult is this?” I ask myself.
And I answer me back, “The Standard Measure, Dr. True. The androcentric Standard Measure, Woman.”
Of course, elsewhere in the World, too, this is true; but in all 50 states of the US as well it also so is. Noncustodial fathers, in every state, can stop a mother wanting to move away, say, the moveaway for the purpose of her taking a very good, career‑enhancing job post––just by opening their orifices and, through their mouthpiece employees who their own attorneys are or by way of their solo, pro se visits with daJudge, even such men’s male‑identified next cunts as daddees’ puppet‑jaws to ‘the Court’, render the mother immobilized––and I mean like just yesterday! She is fucking stopped in her and the kiddos’ tracks like now! But no such luck at even parting one’s lips—let alone, the territory!—if the noncustodial parent is a mother fucked who has lost her parental rights. If the alleged father has, over her, all power and all control, why then, she can kiss her babies goodbye without even ‘being allowed’ the chance to … kiss them goodbye.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dr. Legion True: One Fucked Mother
Dr. Herod (Herry) Edinsmaier: Legion’s husband/Sperm Source [“re: I am snide” backwards]
Jesse Truemaier: Legion’s son
Mirzah Truemaier: Legion’s son
Zane 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]
Mary Jane: daughter of Fannie Issicran McLive; stepsister of Zane, Jesse, and Mirzah
Legion’s Friends: Margaret, Mona, Yanira, Stormy, Lynda, László, Jane, Kincaid, Joseph, Sheryl, Abraham (Quaker elder), Frieda
Legion’s Best Friends: Ms Grace and Dr Lionel Portia and Rachel
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 first Family Court lawyer
Carlotta Klutz: Legion’s second Family Court attorney
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”]
Rex: Jesse’s pet Eastern Florida Kingsnake, female
Lady: Zane's pet Zebra Finch, female
Madonna: realtor
Larry Brouhaha: court-mandated marriage counselor
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: twice judge-mandated custody evaluator
Author: Dr. Blue, aka Ofherod, BSN, DVM, PhD = Commander Edinsmaier's Handmaid (Commander reiamsnidE's Handmaid)
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