Helping the World Keep Promises
The really great thing, about being without a dime in your pocket, is you have to walk and you see shops, stores, displays, advertisements, social events, and other things, as you haul your lazy ass around town--Saturday was no exception. I had bus money, for several days, but on Saturday, my benefactor, also ran out of money, so we both had to hoof it back to the Butte Rescue Mission, where I have been camping out for the last two weeks, and very gratefully so, overall. The reticence comes, not from anything directly connected to the Mission, but a reaction by law enforcement of all levels, forcing involvement by, otherwise, less than willing to participate, in any sting ops, that have happened at each homeless shelter, mission, rescue shelter, etc., that have kept me warm and fed, for two years, off and on, after the cops, stole my truck, and blew up my car with a pipe bomb, after I wrote a constitutional analysis for the Utah Legislature on license plate scanning, in violation of your 4th amendment rights, back in January of 2013, I believe, so about two years ago, give or take a few days.
On my walk back to the rescue mission, Saturday, I walked, the street below Broadway, where the library is, and went along Park, I think, and happened to be walking past the Butte Stuff Store, and decided to check it out, being someone connected to Butte now, with much more in common, than both of us would like, both of us seeing better, prettier, more glorious days, then having the rug, yanked out from under us, leaving us, flailing as we, were caught in a death spiral, by no fault of our own, but those of the more powerful, vindictive, perhaps, jealous and envious, taking their plots, schemes, rackets, laundering, thefts, and patterns of criminal behavior out, on a much less experienced entity, who didn't have the criminal mind to see what was happening, right under our noses. We both shall rise again . . .
Stuff Made on Site . . . Back Room, Fun! I Want One of the Hats That Says, "All Roads Lead to Butte"! Going to Some Order in San Francisco!
I walked in BUTTE Stuff, Fifty5 W. Park St., 406.565.1692, and was greeted by a cheery clerk, who just happened to be the owner, plus, finding colorful, scenes from the Old School Butte, colorful photos, mounted on metal sheets, modern, fun, sexy, and cool. There were hats, t-shirts, calendars, cups, and tons of other cool stuff, probably giving the store its name. The wife side of the owner team, can't remember names to save my soul, called her husband, and he quickly appeared, brimming with excitement about the new Labor History Center, he was rapidly working on, to meet some self-ascribed deadline, taking me on a tour of the whole, huge building, main floor, and downstairs, showing me old school bank teller stands, that belong in movies around the time of Tombstone, when the west was being won, or really hasn't been yet, but attempts were being made, a bit tough in Montana, where I feel like, at the mission, as I sit up stairs, in this home that is reminiscent of the old boarding houses, the miners rented, with a heater, that still works, that is probably older than I am. Mary said, if you will notice, Butte, is kind of stuck in time . . . as I am, shocked at the Anaconda Mine Company closing, after what, 60 years on operation, the largest producer of copper in the world, fourth largest company, back in the day . . . holy shit, what do you expect? I was listed as 2nd in the nation for civil rights defense, when they, all my enemies, which unbeknown to me, was large and great, cut my knees out from under me too . . . I can't relate more, than to Shelby and Butte, love both cities, love their founders, love their histories!
NEW LABOR HISTORY CENTER . . . HISTORY COMES ALIVE, IN HISTORIC BUILDING
So, husband team member, in this new venture, excited as a kid on Christmas, who just got the Red Radio Flyer or the pellet gun, he asked Santa for, took me to the entrance of the old Miner's Bank & Trust Building, right there in the lobby, were four wooden rods, that will hold banners, of pictures from the glory days of Butte . . . it doesn't hurt, that his wife, works at the Butte Chamber of Commerce and the Butte Archives, where she can get her hands on awesome old school, Butte historical pictures, the fodder for many of the items in the BUTTE Stuff Store. The teller cage is right there, as you enter too. Suddenly, your mind, goes back to all the old movies, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Jessie James and the Hole in the Rock Gang, the old outlaws, that shaped the west, created a need for sheriffs, U.S. Marshals, later city cops . . . thanks a lot, guys . . . just kidding, not really! No, seriously, I have the up most respect, for my enemies of the last 20 years, and to this day, out chasing me . . . we will get to the last two days of sting ops! LOL!
To quote Blake Shelton, and my theme song, for my new years resolutions, I wrote about last blog, that of beauty, excitement and adventure, is, If You Don't Like My Outlaw Crowd, You Can Kiss My Country Ass! That was playing, the morning I drove my truck, out through the Parowan Gap, New Years Day, 2012, after running into my outlaw crowd--who came over for pizza, then left to drink, coyote call, hunt arrowheads, and cow tip, drunk as skunks--ending up with me, who went to bed at 9:30 p.m., catching up with them at the local Maverick, at about 6 a.m., when they were going to bed--my outlaw crowd, or my clients, in Parowan, many with criminal records, as a criminal defense attorney/constitutional law attorney, and pondering what the new year would bring . . . fucking hell on wheels, from that morning to this morning!
I sat, at McDonald's after leaving early, without breakfast, when I noticed, Guy, involved from the sting op, with ex-new boyfriend, of three days, the Marlboro Man/Easy Rider, looking more like dirty biker dudes, and members of the new bounty hunters, a new TV series, filmed in and frequented in Kalispell and Missoula, lately, just where I had been for the last week, and safe, in the Butte, Montana Standard, when I say the article, right around Christmas, got there December 22, 2014, so pictures in the newspaper, around that time, being damned glad, I took off, unannounced, both from Kalispell, after doing my 15 minutes of Christmas shopping, supporting local law enforcement, in Kalispell, for their Only in Montana, Best of Law & Disorder, a one of a kind, book, at the Daily Inter Lake Newspaper, who carries the funny law enforcement round-ups, yearly, and all year, if you need a laugh, or a bathroom book, with quick reading! LOL! I booked out of Missoula, the first night, dinner was served at the New Poverello Center, noticing, at least 4 undercover cops, whispering, looks, and odd behavior, much of what I saw yesterday and today, that leads me to believe, my days in Butte are numbered! LOL! A quick trip to Vegas, in between, probably saved me from the new Dog the Bounty Hunter rivals, trailing my ass now!
Sorry, sidebar, back to the tour of the Miner's Bank & Trust . . . there are three old vaults, that are a trip in a time machine . . . inside one of the vaults, there is a old school handle on the vault, that when you pull one of the sprockets up, tear gas comes out! Yikes! Ferguson cops had nothing on these old boys, and you think you were going to get away with robbing them, think again . . . your not finding your way out of the damn vault! As you enter the down stairs vault, notice the great gold leaf letters, Miner's Bank & Trust, right over the door as you enter. The second vault, is way cool, and so heavy duty, two jet black, heavier than hell, doors, block the intruders, that lead you into a secret room, you don't expect to see, behind a vault, the old Great American Fur Company, owned this one. And when you open the door, low and behold, there is a whole, huge room, with numbers up and down the cement walls, with cedar wood, to keep the mouths from eating the fur coats . . . signs of wealth of the day! Like I said, this is old school, before computers, and as you leave the secret chambers, there is an accounting of the business, entered in pencil on the walls, listing a lot of years, as a record of the daily, yearly or monthly incoming and outgoing fur coats, for the lady folks, minks, stolls, jackets, neck warmers . . . so freakin' historic and fun!
For the life of me, I can't remember where the third vault was, or it skipped my mind. But there are old boilers, that used to heat the building with steam, still there . . . there are plans to make one of the rooms in this clean building, a movie theater, to show old movies of the heyday of Butte, the teeming streets, shops filled with shoppers, even a like 10 ton, elk or deer, that stood, blocking one of the streets, Broadway, or something, when the locals, hosted the world conference or Order of the Elk or Deer, like the rest of Butte, back in the day, they did it up, fucking huge! Richard Gibons, a local historian--I am just a hack, is going to give tours, several times a week, I think, don't mark me on this, but check, online, for information about the new center, the times, the dates, and the place, which is right next to the above address, I put down for the BUTTE Stuff STORE! Anyway, as you plan your summer vacation, to Butte, and other Montana towns, for a really exciting tour of old Butte, the mines, the town, the stories, and all, stop in to the new center, should be a kick.
For the life of me, I can't remember where the third vault was, or it skipped my mind. But there are old boilers, that used to heat the building with steam, still there . . . there are plans to make one of the rooms in this clean building, a movie theater, to show old movies of the heyday of Butte, the teeming streets, shops filled with shoppers, even a like 10 ton, elk or deer, that stood, blocking one of the streets, Broadway, or something, when the locals, hosted the world conference or Order of the Elk or Deer, like the rest of Butte, back in the day, they did it up, fucking huge! Richard Gibons, a local historian--I am just a hack, is going to give tours, several times a week, I think, don't mark me on this, but check, online, for information about the new center, the times, the dates, and the place, which is right next to the above address, I put down for the BUTTE Stuff STORE! Anyway, as you plan your summer vacation, to Butte, and other Montana towns, for a really exciting tour of old Butte, the mines, the town, the stories, and all, stop in to the new center, should be a kick.
Who's Tracking Who?
I have Pig Tales (cops), Cat Tales (CIA), Fat Tales (FBI . . . just made that up this morning), but I yet to have many U.S. Marshal or bounty hunter tales, but I am sure, I will, before, this life, or this period in my life is over, having done nothing more than pissed a lot of law enforcement types off, with my blogs . . . they are all in Cuppies Love with the Pirates Chest Queens, better known as Nip & Tuck Dolss . . . these Kingz of Clubz . . . they like me, until they find out, I am actually the woman, who has kicked their asses for the last 17 years, since old school, attorney general days, when I killed asset forfeiture legislation, in Utah, my writing vs. 11 attorneys, there to testify, while I was in St. George, checking on my home being built by the Ence Brothers, so I could run for the 4th congressional seat in Utah, after the census, which we missed, due to the census, not counting all the missionaries in the field for the Mormon Church--the slaughter, of 9 assistant attorney generals, and 2 U.S. assistant attorney generals, that took, two hours on the floor of the house, and only 10 minutes in the Senate, to find the boys and girls clubs of law enforcement were taking incentives, to aid them in their law enforcement duties, and got caught with their hands in the cookie jar, taking houses, boats, cars, tractors, your first born, without providing, any, due process of law, taking liberty, property, without compensation, process or equal protection, to retrieve it once you were a suspect, no jury trial, basically toast if suspected of any drug activity, and all your STUFF, ended up in police surplus and was sold at reduced prices, after the cops took what they wanted!
Here is some legal history for you . . . billionaire, George Soros, burned out, pot-smoking billionaire, when he heard of what happened in the Utah Legislature, funded ballot initiatives or referendums in all 50 states, taking away or limiting any cop incentives, connected with taking of property, allegedly in connection with drugs, and demanding that the monies collected, go to state school funds, or other worthy causes! I took out the D.A.R.E. programs, you know the hot cars, that they, the cops seized, painted up, and used at school presentations, my mom was a health teacher, and hated me too, for that one, and all the hot cars they stole, ended up disappearing, with the exception of a few places, like, Cedar City P.D. who still has a black and white, I think old Mercury or Tracer, painted up for a D.A.R.E. parade run or something.
I knew of one kid, when I killed that or maybe before, who worked under the table in a restaurant for two years, wanted a black Mustang, one his 16th birthday, and the day he turned 16 in Ogden, Utah, he was dragging Harrison Blvd. and was pulled over by cops, who asked if he would mind, letting the K-9 unit search it for drugs . . . illegal search and seizure, violation of his 4th amendment rights, without probable cause, and said, the dog, who is given treats, when he finds drugs, was said to have found, on mustard size seed of marijuana, really, some snout on that dog, who gets a treat, if he acts like he found drugs, and who really knows what he is sniffing out . . .? But, the cops, seized the car, nice, because the kid worked under the table, and probably would not fight it, might have had illegal aliens for parents, in this case of racial profiling, which is unconstitutional in the first place, Hispanic, and his car, was later seen racing around town, red, D.A.R.E., letters on his jet black new Mustang! Tons of stories like these . . . I took the boyz toyz and their cash cow away; therefore, every dime I make, or my son makes, they consider fair game for them, and they have acted to the tune of a billion dollars! Or more!
That was 1997, with President Clinton, in the White House, and he refused to pass or sign the Patriot Act, the one, we are dealing with now, but Bush, I believe staged the 9/11, so they could create a false flag attack, to get the people to allow all their rights to be taken in exchange for "national security" and we all see who that law has turned on, people like me, and anyone, who questions law enforcement authority, in total contravention of the United States Constitutional and civil rights, culminating in Michael Brown, Garner, and whomever, will oppose them! Making some sense now, connecting any dots, and adding tons of cases, blogs, legislation, etc., and now, I never, never, never, let, asked, or wanted the boob girls to take my place, I am sitting here, on the first floor, computers at the Butte, or Silver Bow Library. Which leads me to the events of the last two days . . .
P.J. Trophies, Gifts & Awards--Tracked, Tracking the Trackers!
This blog, will bring a bounty on my head, if there wasn't one before, which there has been for 17 years! I am the premier trophy for cops, they just wish, I looked, like the Hollywood versions, the Mormons came up with, you know, Bounty Hunter, Dog & Wife . . . Rachel, my alleged twin, has a rack, much like her's! LOL! I think, they long for a dumber hunt! This is the ultimate game, man vs. woman, battle of the sexes, at its best; although, they out number me, hundreds of thousands to one, but, that I fair, given my blog, which they have tried to shut down, steal, take credit for, bury, split, and just about every angle imaginable to get rid of me . . . but, the word is stronger than the sword, and my words, cut like a knife! The girls they are all in cuppie love with, couldn't write what they are in guppie love with, my writing, Hooked Ya! People say, JoAnn, if they wanted you dead, you would be dead . . . tell God that! LOL! Me and my Intel man, can take out anyone! And any number! Three years of intense hunting, and they come up with nothing? Are you fucking kidding me, they won't get me, til God wills it so!
So, yesterday, I get up early, come down for breakfast, and James Kennedy, a three day love interest, I have two modes or preferences in men . . . the bad boys, who have just enough good in them, to make it an interest . . . and the good boys, who have just enough bad or mischief in them to make it fun! Some men are better as a memory, and I told James this the first night I met him at the mission, when he came on to me, big time, but backed way down, when I didn't buy his line, on being the second attorney, he would be huggy, huggy, kissy, kissy, with under the covers with . . . I am not that easy! Oh, well, my family owns, half of Kansas, but I can't get my hands on the money. Have you heard that song, Arizona Dreams . . . gets where the guy promises the sky, and nothing . . . show me the money! No, I am not into money, and I told him that, I am into POWER, and I have a shit load of that. Oh.
I expect more of my men, than a hot dick, and money, like a mind, a conversation, something between their frontal lobes, something in that grey matter, not just a burned out old hippie or biker dude! He asked me if I wanted some weed . . . I said, you can take the girl out of the Mormon Church, but you can't take the church out of the girl . . . in light of asset forfeiture, thank God, I was raised to not smoke, drink, use drugs, and have sex before marriage, that taught me restraint for life! Thanks . . . yesterday, when I wrote about Cuba, and the abstenance, being unrealistic, religion can still teach it! I was born and raised in the height of "free love" and the "me generation" with the advent of the pill coming around 1968, just two years before I entered high school! So, it was all available, and I am proud to announce, I was a virgin, at marriage! I was hotter than hell in high school, guys all over the place, so it is possible, if you use the right tools, and religion, is the one, not the law!
I expect more of my men, than a hot dick, and money, like a mind, a conversation, something between their frontal lobes, something in that grey matter, not just a burned out old hippie or biker dude! He asked me if I wanted some weed . . . I said, you can take the girl out of the Mormon Church, but you can't take the church out of the girl . . . in light of asset forfeiture, thank God, I was raised to not smoke, drink, use drugs, and have sex before marriage, that taught me restraint for life! Thanks . . . yesterday, when I wrote about Cuba, and the abstenance, being unrealistic, religion can still teach it! I was born and raised in the height of "free love" and the "me generation" with the advent of the pill coming around 1968, just two years before I entered high school! So, it was all available, and I am proud to announce, I was a virgin, at marriage! I was hotter than hell in high school, guys all over the place, so it is possible, if you use the right tools, and religion, is the one, not the law!
Jesus Girl, I Reading Her Scriptures . . . Sure, I Will Help With the Dishes!
James Kennedy, sure as hell looks like a Kennedy, but he is no Uncle Jack, Bobby, or Teddy, much more cop like, and more like, having the heart of a Bush! Boys this age, are Bushies, and all about taking down homegrown terrorists or enemy combatants . . . and if anyone deserves that title, from the Patriot Act boys, it is Me! And fucking hometown girl, proud of it, I took an oath to fuck you guys, and I have never failed at an opportunity to preserve, protect and defend the U.S. Constitution! The same oath, even rogue agents took, or whatever the hell you are, sure as hell, against me! Okay, so James, has gotten more and more remote, while still watching, where I am, and what I am doing, and doesn't like it when I give him the slip, which I do regularly, seeing, that he is other than he says he is. If you are a dirt bag biker, homeless guy, camping out under the freeway in Sheridan Wyoming, near a fire, you sure as hell, don't need, twenty layers, and still freezing . . . he is not climatized to freezing weather, it took me 2 years of chills! He told me he couldn't get I.D., but suddenly, he is staying in Butte, for a while longer, because he is getting food stamps . . . can't get it without I.D.!
Basically, seeing through his cover, his shit, and seeing where it goes? I always have hope, that I will convert one of their own, the cops. Hard sell. But, I am an optimist, and there is always love. The first time James walked in, and mark it, they use the FBI dating game, to profile the kind of guys, I have liked in the past, called Allan Rex Bess, the Marlboro Man, strange he would refer to himself as that--a little help from the FBI club; he does look like him, but, as he said, all the Kennedy boy cousins, all 51 of them are either feds or bikers, mixing the two, a fed, looking like a biker is more like it. They just are not that good, to the unsuspecting, yeah, but to a at least, hard-core vet of the last 3 years, and some before than, as transparent as the light of day! LOL! So, we have breakfast, and James has ants in his pants, can't carry on a normal conversation to save his soul, for fear I will discover who he really is, and I am fucking good at it. So, music ear plugs, and brief conversation, is the older of the day, and straight to bed at night, quick interludes, enough, for a dumb bitch, not like me. We have break fast, and James comes in and says all the young guys are driving him nuts, and he is leaving. Okay, well, you have to do what you have to do . . . I don't think this is the response he wanted nor thought I would give. You see, I have been rolling by myself, for about 25 years, given a week moment or three, for about 18 month interludes, and then, I get rid of the guy . . . the line between love and hate, is thin, and they all want to kill me, when I ditch their sorry asses, bored, or whatever, by their bull shit! Not, your sister's Mormon Muffin . . . that is on a sign, as you pass, Smith & Edwards, Army Surplus, near Brigham City, Utah! LOL! I have called the sister clubz, that for years! Nice!
THIS IS NOT MY FIRST RODEO, WITH ROMEO . . . PROFILE!
Resume, of government bad boys, the cads, the ladies men, the rogues, Brett Stuart/Stewart, Frank of InterPol, Jack King Strode/Ware of Pennsylvania, possible Senator, Michael McClintock of CIA, and now, James Kennedy, calls all the CIA and FBI, fags, therefore, he must be, something other than that, U.S. Marshal or Texas Ranger, said his last attorney, was in Texas . . . so, same M.O., different names and faces, but basically, the same play book, same game, different angle! I generally like them at a very puriant level, but any deeper than that, we are sworn enemies! They all have a thing with fat, and I have a thing with feds, that are stupid enough to think, that they don't love the wiener, more than America, and know they are on assignment. But the brain is the largest sex organ, and they are hooked, and they generally don't know it til, I am gone! LOL! Then they are pissed as hell and want my demise for the deception, not in the play book of CIA or whatever! Like I have said before, I made my career, on the men I stepped on to the top, making my way on the men who have underestimated me! LOL! I heard a radio chick, right after I first wrote that, say, I wish I had said that! Flattered me . . .
Note: the NSA has turned off my spell check, so bare with me!
James leaving, will make it more boring around the old mission, but, whatever. The next thing that happens, is two mission hotties, probably, young undercover cops of some level, approach me, and smiling, as if challenging the old, bull elk, ask me, from a woman's perspective, if I think, Chris is good looking. Hell, yeah, but, he is my son's age, and so is the hottie asking for him. I promptly tell, Chris, who is also a guitar player, about my son, Elliot, God's Revolver, bass guitarist, guitarist extraordinaire, and tell him to look his band up, hard rock, band of 2008. I am sure the feds, will find some jail bait, somewhere with these two, now both of them together, do the math, two 30 somethings, may add up to my 60 years, but, hey, I am a cougar, but I do have an age limit! LOL! Cute, but no go! Gotta love the competitive nature in men in heat! LOL! Play on the word HEAT! Fun times at the Ponderosa . . . showed a little cleavage for the first time and it brought the youngsters out. I am like J. Lo, she is looking at the boy who played her son in the Hotel Maid, or something like that . . . the article said, we all age, and she doesn't . . . I don't much, and nobody, believes that I am 60, that is how the cops get away, saying my kids, can't be mine, that I am lying! I love it, they can be old hags if they want, just need a DNA, easy evidence, but they will not go there!
WELL, ISN'T THAT DOMESTIC! JAMES IS ALL OVER THE KITCHEN
Mr. NoShow, for the last few days, is all over me, in the kitchen, because of the young challengers, surveillance, or because, there is not surveillance in the kitchen, but he is hanging out, when residents are not suppose to be in the kitchen if they are not doing a chore. I was asked to come help do the dishes, which were a disaster, from the morning guy, who didn't finish and left a fucking mess, and the chick making chili for the lunch crew. But, I, who, doesn't cook much, can contribute and help, by helping with the dishes, God knows, I am grateful for those who will share their cooking skills with the rest of us! And it was good. But, very uncharacteristic, James, is in the kitchen about 20 times. Then Guy, the other bounty hunter, biker dude, who got to know me a bit the other day, and does the bread runs, allegedly for the mission, gave me and Nick a ride to the library, the day the cop pulled up behind our Bronco or Ford Escape, with the Rescue Mission sticker on it, indicating, that I would be, in the car, or might be. Guy and I talked, and I told him some shit, that fascinated him, but he turned, a 180 degrees, the next day. Bingo, yes, I am HER!
So, as I am finishing the dishes, James, not your helper bee, normally, is all over the bread run, and Guy. I was amused, and thought, perhaps, that my good volunteer merits were rubbing off on bad boy, James. Too good to be true. But, like normal, when things look too good to be true, they generally are . . . I get the feeling, that something it up! I gather up my shit, and notice, a book by John Grisham, the attorney novelist, and I, check out the title for signs from God, for what is going on. And, he never fails, the title of the book was, The Summons. For those of you, who do not know what a summons is, it is the notice that you are being served or in a lawsuit. That was symbolic, of me challenging the Patriot Bastards to serve me with a notice of the information, or the criminal charges against me if any, since I haven't ever seen anything, in our civil and criminal system, and this was enough, to send me right out the door, and down to the bus terminal, with the counter-help, recognizing me from bus rides past, and she tells, me, when I tell her I am at the mission, until I get money for the bus, that a pastor out in Whitehall just bought two tickets and a motel room for someone, and I should contact a church for tickets to get out of town . . . good idea, the writing is on the wall, they have brought in the big guys, if the whole fucking place is not cops!
Rocker, The Stolen Guitar, Nick's Smart Ass Response, the Lie!
Like I said, the line between love and hate, is thin, and these bad boys, turn as bad as bad against you when you don't play the sex game by their rules, which I never do, not like the bar maids, the mall rats, and the
cuppie love girls, pirates chest girls, they are used to . . . I am a fucking, god-damn attorney, and an attorney from hell! Yes, we all have tits and ass, but, come on, distinguish a bit! All women are not created equal, some of us, developed our minds! And if you want to play with the big girls, you asshole guys are going to have to amp it up a bit, or no game!
So, I get back, just about in time for dinner, and want to avoid James, but he is standing there kind of waiting, so, I walk in with him, and ask him, if he wants to go to Missoula, and I can get tickets, since he so promptly changed, and was not leaving, but still thinking the youngsters were driving him crazy, and still intrigued enough by him, given the fact, that I have never liked wearing a wedding ring, and actually looked down, at my hand, the first time I saw him and panicked, that my wedding ring was gone . . . it wasn't there, hadn't been there for a few years, since, Frank, InterPol, back in 2011. I used to wear a gold ring from my father, sold it in Helena, for gas, at the Alan and something pawn shop, probably still there, nice ring, $800 for $40 worth of gas. The library is closing in 5 minutes . . . to be continued! Serial series, fun, fun, fun, stay tuned . . . for tomorrow!
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