Thank You

It's a hard rain gonna fall.

Such an appropos song, thanks for posting!

...................R.I.P., Renee Nicole Good.................

This was an Extra-Judicial Execution.
It looks for all the world like a very poorly trained MAGat stroking his Warrior Ethos.
KKKristy needs to be held accountable.
Her statements are self-serving Lies.
Maybe if we give her 465 dogs she might not kill anybody for a year.
And... masking is for Pussies.

sorry to nitpik
rec'd

I used to think: “how do people survive this shit without having dropped Acid?”
We’re WAY past that now. This ends in rubble and a hefty body-count, judging from the level of competence we’re seeing from this Regime..
OF COURSE KKKristy can’t be satisfied by just killing animals any more.
It cost her the Election, but Hillary was Absolutely Right about the Basket of Deplorables. It’s sickening it was so close. The Depravity.

All information about her says she was the kindest person they knew and was just caring for her neighbors. We’re not gonna forget you, Renee Nicole Good. 💐

If these fuckheads did the same to me, that's what I'd want.

Show the world what was done.

Let the ugliness speak for itself.

Gone way too soon... RIP

Renee Nicole Good = Terrorist

We really have moved through the looking glass into a place where bad is good and good is bad.

The orange POS has his untouchable army that answers to no one. His media machine continues to turn the blame away from his vicious agenda…..it’s our fault. Let’s end this!
Peace ☮️

https://poets.org/2020-on-learning-to-dissect-fetal-pigs

On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pig

by Renée Nicole Macklin

i want back my rocking chairs,
solipsist sunsets,
& coastal jungle sounds that are tercets from cicadas and pentameter from the hairy legs of
cockroaches.
i’ve donated bibles to thrift stores
(mashed them in plastic trash bags with an acidic Himalayan salt lamp—
the post-baptism bibles, the ones plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots, the
dumbed-down, easy-to-read, parasitic kind):
remember more the slick rubber smell of high gloss biology textbook pictures; they burned the hairs
inside my nostrils,
& salt & ink that rubbed off on my palms.
under clippings of the moon at two forty five AM I study & repeat
ribosome
endoplasmic—
lactic acid
stamen
at the IHOP on the corner of powers and Stetson hills—
I repeated & scribbled until it picked its way & stagnated somewhere i can’t point to anymore, maybe
my gut—
maybe there in-between my pancreas & large intestine is the piddly brook of my soul.
it’s the ruler by which i reduce all things now; hard-edged & splintering from knowledge that
used to sit, a cloth against fevered forehead.
can i let them both be? this fickle faith and this college science that heckles from the back of the
classroom
now i can’t believe—
that the Bible and Qur’an and Bhagavad Gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom
used to & exhaling from their mouths “make room for wonder”—
all my understanding dribbles down the chin onto the chest & is summarized as:
life is merely
to ovum and sperm
and where those two meet
and how often and how well
and what dies there.

Collecting for Ms. Good:

Do what you can to help!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-for-renee-goods-wife-and-son

RIP Dear Lady!

& recommend!!!!