Sacramento Failed Matthew Hernandez

What sort of despicable creature kills their son in cold blood with a hatchet? Only a monster– pure evil that is incomprehensible to the rest of us– could murder their own child.

Matthew Hernandez

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Monsters exist everywhere. No part of the world escapes heinous acts from the vilest of criminals. The gruesome end to 9 year old Matthew’s life is a tragedy, one that could have happened anywhere, in any region or country. Killer Philip Hernandez could have been a resident of Delaware or Texas or North Dakota, anywhere besides California. Yet as grieving mother Jessica Hernandez will tell you….the state of California does not always act in the best interests of its most vulnerable population.

Cases such as Jessica’s are the extreme, but her allegations [evidence blatantly ignored in the courtroom, denial of basic rights, various forms of discrimination, etc.] echo throughout the state, a common denominator amongst far too many cases. Between Family Court, Child ‘Welfare’ Services, and the foster care system– something is very wrong here.

Jessica Hernandez and her two sons
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The undeniable truth: Sacramento courts failed Jessica Hernandez and her son– at the cost of the young boy’s life. A judge chose to disregard crucial information and that irresponsible decision cost a family dearly. She’s not the first judge to do so. Nor will she be the last. To whom are these authority figures judges, social workers, civil servants answering? Other than contesting a verdict via the appeals process, what choice does one have when they know something is wrong? Why must children suffer at the hands of adults supposedly entrusted with their protection?

REFORM AMONGST THE FAMILY LAW COURTS, CWS, AND FOSTER CARE IS IMPERATIVE– THE NEED IS URGENT AND THE TIME IS NOW.

MBC11

• March Blog Challenge •
Day 11: Last book you read

For those of you unfamiliar with Damien Echols and the ‘West Memphis Three’ here is some background.

Let it be known that I have researched this case extensively. It takes more than a celebrity endorsement or a buzzworthy film for me jump on the bandwagon. I’ve done my homework.

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West Memphis, AR is ‘right across the bridge’ from downtown Memphis. At the time of the tragic deaths, I was the same age as those three little boys, only six years old. The killer[s] of Stevie Branch, Christopher Byers, and Michael Moore literally got away with murder.

This case is one that’s been on my radar for years. Not only do I have an inherent understanding of life in the Bible Belt of the deep south, but I know all too well what it’s like to be on the fringe in high school under these conditions. Deviation from the mainstream is often viewed with ignorance, scorn, fear, or all of the above. A wardrobe filled with black and a taste for hardcore music solicit stares. The whispers begin. Interest in counterculture and alternative spiritualities really gets people talking. Society eyes the stereotypical ostracized teenager [outcast, freak, weird, scary, etc.] with suspicion, which quickly escalates into a mob mentality when a scapegoat is needed. Guilty until proven innocent. Toss a bunch of ideas around and see if anything sticks. No matter how absurd the claim, once the seed is planted, the damage is done. Some people get railroaded without ever knowing what hit them. Rights get violated. Not everyone is equal in the eyes of the law. Preposterous allegations become fact while irrefutable evidence to the contrary never sees the light of day.

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Don’t even get me started on the colossal failure of the judicial system….

I leave you with a handful of quotes from within the pages and two critical reviews that resonated with me.

“Everyone puts on their Sunday best and pays tribute to religion’s slaughterhouse and then dines on a cannibal communion. Education is foreign to the sunburned beasts of burden, and the painkiller comes in black-labeled Tennessee bottles. No one here moves quickly, but everyone moves with absolute certainty.”

“I’ve seen men who were haunted to the point of madness by things that never were and things that should have been….The ghosts in fire freeze and the ghosts in ice burn. Some died long ago; some were never born. Some ride the blood in my veins until it reaches my brain. Sometimes I even mistake myself for one. Sometimes I am one.”

“I want a life of strife, lust, striving, seeking, struggling, and debauchery.”

“Any friendship that is worth it’s weight is like a dark and secret place where you hide bits of yourself. The door can be opened only by the two people who have the key, and you carry it with you wherever you go. Magnify that by a billion, and you begin to get an idea of what marriage is like.”

~

“Damien Echols spent eighteen years on death row for murders he did not commit. Somehow, in the depths of his unspeakable nightmare, he found the courage and strength not only to survive, but to grow, to create, to forgive, and to understand. Life After Death is a brilliant, haunting, painful, and uplifting narrative of a hopeless childhood, a wrongful conviction, a brutal incarceration, and the beginning of a new life.” – John Grisham

“The life of Damien Echols is a journey similar to that of the metal that becomes a samurai’s sword. Heated and pounded until it becomes hardened, it can hold its edge for centuries. It is incredible that Damien endured and survived one of the most tragic miscarriages of American justice, and emerged such a centered, articulate and extraordinary man and writer. Life After Death proves that he paid dearly for his wisdom. – Henry Rollins

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

Epidurals and Caesarians, oh my!

Something tells me he'd still be crying even if he wasn't born in a sterile, clinical, operating room ;)

With every passing week my Gmail account becomes inundated with pregnancy mail ['The Daily Kick,'  'Ages & Stages,'  'What To Expect- Week X,' etc.] and I always enjoy reading these frequent messages.  It reminds me how excited I am to be a mother again.  Bonus points for giving me knowledge and reminders about parenting.  Today one of the pieces centered around the following article:  “Au Natural:  Nine Ways to Manage Labor Without Drugs.” 

Let me preface this by saying I wholeheartedly support every woman’s right to make decisions about her reproductive health.  I respect their unique choices in issues such as the birthing process, breastfeeding, and co-sleeping.  A woman should be entitled follow the course of action most suitable for her and her child without judgement and interference from the rest of us.  All I can do is share my opinions and the things that work for me…with a hearty dose of humor.

Understanding that you have options with your labor and delivery is crucial.  The article discusses home births, alternatives to pain medication, and many other important factors to consider.  I appreciate the information they provide as it is important to know that “there are many alternatives to the flat-on-your-back hospital scene.”  Most OB/GYN’s focus on a medical approach to pregnancy culminating with a hospital birth so some women may not be fully aware that other methods exist.

The Setting

Apologies in advance for anyone I may offend with this statement:  I think it is foolish and risky to give birth anywhere but a hospital.  I certainly understand the reasons for wanting to be surrounded by the familiar comfort and intimacy associated with your own home….but I’m not willing to compromise my child’s health by delivering outside of a medical setting.  It’s impossible to foresee complications.  You don’t want your birthing team frantically scrambling to call an ambulance or wasting precious time determining the best place to transport you.  God forbid, if things were to take a turn for the worse, could mother and baby’s health suffer because of something that would have been manageable in the appropriate setting?

It is because of the miracles of modern medicine that I'm able to enjoy this time with my son after a major surgical procedure.

Never in a million years did I think I’d have anything but a complication-free labor.  I was twenty two years old and as healthy as a horse.  While I had a gut feeling that Adam would arrive via C-section, my reasoning for this was the innate knowledge that I would not be able to dilate sufficiently.  However, I did not view that as a complication.  Instead I figured that the doctor would realize labor just wasn’t happening and we’d move to Plan B.  Lo and behold I had barely progressed more 20 hours into labor– yet when my blood pressure dropped to dangerously low levels– that’s when I was whisked away to the operating room.

Thank you, Baptist Women’s Hospital!  While I cannot imagine a nobler sacrifice than making your grand exit so your child can make their grand entrance….isn’t it better all around if both parties live to tell about it?

I’m seriously at a loss as to how we maintained a sustainable population prior to hospital births becoming the acceptable norm– and especially before epidurals skyrocketed in the 1980′s.  How anyone survived childbirth is beyond me.  The very fact that women weren’t dropping like flies is enough proof that miracles do exist.

The delivery method

Few things irk me more than a woman touting ‘natural’ birth– as if you’re doing something abnormal and artificial if you have a C-section.  Certainly the advantages of a vaginal birth are many.  Doctors consider this sort of delivery as the optimal outcome and with good reason.  However, neither method is without risk and the possibility of complication[s].  No matter how it happens….it’s dangerous being born!  Most in the ‘natural’ school are overwhelmingly sympathetic once they realize a legitimate medical emergency served as the catalyst for my C-section with Adam and the fact that my doctor strongly advised against a VBAC with Tatum.  Yet a few still express their dismay that we missed out on precious ‘bonding time’ as I recovered from being gutted like a fish.  Really?  As agonizing as it would be, I’d go a month without holding my son if I knew that doing so would keep him healthy and safe.  And, uh, in terms of my health….had I kicked the bucket prior to meeting him [which very well could have happened had I not been taken into surgery], I doubt I’d be bonding with anyone except JC, so I can handle the fact that I wasn’t the first person to hold him outside of the operating room.

Adam's first snow....he seems to have recovered nicely from all that birthing business.

The epidural

Unless you are some sort of Amazonian who thrives on ungodly amounts of pain, I’m assuming that most women who skip the epidural do so because of potential side effects for the baby.  You should always do your research and be cognizant of the fact that what you do while pregnant can very much affect your child.  I consulted with multiple doctors, looked on the internet, spoke with other parents….and decided that an epidural was indeed safe to use.

According to American Pregnancy’s article on Epidural Anesthesia, here’s how the epidural can effect the baby:  “As stated above, research on the effects of epidurals on newborn health is somewhat ambiguous and many factors may be contributing to newborn health at the time of birth. How much of an effect these medications will have is difficult to judge and could vary based on dosage, how long labor continues and individual babies. Dosages and medications vary, so concrete information from research is lacking. Studies reveal that some babies may initially have trouble “latching on” among other difficulties with breastfeeding. While in utero, they may become lethargic and have trouble getting into position for delivery. These medications have been known to cause respiratory depression, and decreased fetal heart rate in newborns. Though the medication may not harm the baby, the baby may experience subtle effects like those mentioned above. “

I will never regret my decision to have an epidural.  In fact, the prospect of my second birth is infinitely easier because of it.  Of course I know what to expect because I’ve done it once before– but I also know that just when I cannot take another second of the agonizing pain it will subside– and I will be both coherent and out of my misery.  Although there is a definite pain relief component to the epidural I wasn’t so out of sorts that I was talking about a moon colony or anything drastic like that.

The use of additional pain relief

Suggestions in the ‘Au Natural’ article for pain relief alternatives include acupuncture, yoga, Lamaze, and hypnotizing yourself.  That’s fantastic…..if you’ve twisted your ankle.  Perhaps I comprise a tiny minority here, but am I the only one who was in excruciating pain once I started having contractions?

I remember we were talking about babies right before I made this picture because we'd read 'Baby Faces.' =)

Removing my wisdom teeth.  Not good.  Averaging a thrice yearly serious injury to the gimpy knee?  Bad.  The infamous kidney infection in ’05 from drinking contaminated water in the British Virgin Islands?  Very bad.  Never in my life have I broken a bone, had a serious injury, gotten a deep wound, been through surgery, etc.  With the exception of gimpy I’ve been very blessed in the sense that life hasn’t been physically painful for me.  Which is probably for the best….I already zero pain tolerance as is.  People are bowled over when they realize that girl who is practically in tears because she stubbed her toe has had thousands of tiny needles stab her repeatedly for her tattoos.  Yes tattoos plural.

So when those first waves of contractions hit me….four letter words were flying out of my mouth.  I’m surprised there was even room in my mouth because it was so bloody from my gums– in my agony I’d been grinding my teeth.  !@#$%^&*()-.  That’s a euphemism.  The worst agony of my life.  Unbearable.  No words.

Yet I always knew one day there would be a round two.  ;)

I never expected giving birth to be pleasant or devoid of pain.  That’s completely unrealistic.  I can’t speak as to how it feels to push a baby out of an impossibly narrow birthing canal– though I can’t imagine that’s a walk in the park either– but a C-section is a major surgery.  You have no idea how much you use those core muscles in your lower abdomen until they are paralyzed.  What they don’t tell you about a C-section is the impossibly slow recovery.  Oh, I knew I’d be ‘recovering’ for 4-6 weeks but I thought that meant ‘take it easy.’  As in I won’t resume my rugby career anytime in the immediate future.  I could barely even hold Adam [and when that happened he had to be handed to me in a way that I didn't have to move my arms or shoulders], much less get up and run to him if he fussed.  Luckily I had assistance in the form of Will and my parents but the recovery was grueling.

Don’t take prescription narcotics if you don’t need them.  But don’t be ashamed if you do need them, because for many [myself included] that pill can be the difference between lying in bed moaning and actively caring for your newborn without relying on a third party to fetch you this or that.  However, it is imperative that you consult with your doctor about breastfeeding plans before you take any sort of medication.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Le sigh

Somebody loves the outlet mall and Pismo Beach....and could care less about the retail experience!

Tomorrow I desperately need to play catch up with my ’30 Days of Thanksgiving.’  In my current state of sadness, anxiety, and stress it’s crucial to remain focused on the positive and be thankful for my blessings.  The dual combination of no psychiatric help and a pregnancy entering its third trimester is taking its toll on me.

[[ Because I am hyper aware of everything I post on here let me say that 'psychiatric help' refers to therapists/counseling and my usual antidepressant and anxiety medications.  I'm not crazy or mentally ill...at least that's the concensus reached by all of my personalities. ]]

I expect to hear tomorrow about the final verdict regarding my apartment– and hopefully a move-in date within a matter of days.  Until this morning I did not know the complex had an additional form they requested from my social worker.  As luck would have it she’s out of the office on Tuesdays but she’s always prompt and efficient so I’m thrilled to enter the home stretch of the application process!

During my lunch today, S, my wonderful housing worker treated me to a large bowl of homemade tomato soup at Cider Creek Bakery.  I signed the paperwork that officially admits me into the program.  She’ll be paying my deposit in full….isn’t that fantastic?!  I cannot wait to tell you more about this lifesavi ng program once I get settled.

Shifting gears…..

I’m undergoing a sort of internal struggle about what I write on Cocktails With Hemingway.  To think that one of my coworkers follows this blog is such an exciting thought.  I’m sure it’s not difficult to find and others may have seen it as well.  Everyone at my job appreciates my aspirations as a writer and the freelance work I do– and the reviews for my writings [including this blog] have been wonderful.  It’s so difficult for me to censor myself on the internet yet I feel it is in the best interests of my professional repuation and my character in general.  You’ve lost your ever loving mind, however, if you think this site will be devoid of controversy.  I’ll always push the envelope, stay true to myself, and speak my mind.  It’s just that these things will be done in a way that reflects the profound love and respect of the church I represent and portrays me as the adult I am, a woman with strong morals and convictions, who understands the value of discretion and realizes that sometimes less truly is more.

With that being said, I am extremely upset with Will.  I could sit here and talk for hours on end about all the negative emotions I feel and be justified in doing so.  But there is one thing he he has said since this entire ordeal began– and continues to say through third parties– that kills me.  He constantly references this “game” in which we’re involved.

To reduce so much ugliness and dismiss all that our son has endured as a ‘game’ makes me ill.  There are no winners here…and the biggest loser is Adam.  This is all so very serious.  Will is acting as if the ‘objective’ here is whichever parent can make their ‘opponent’ look the worst.  It’s truly heartbreaking.  I could care less [of course it bothers me but my priority is mothering my children] about mudslinging and attempted character assassination, insults and intimidation, and other less than pleasant aspects of human behavior.  What I care about is Adam and his best interests, his safety and stability.  That’s the only thing anyone should care about, not ‘winning’ or ‘losing,’ and going to extreme lengths to ‘play’ dirty.

I will never get used to Christmas decorations amidst palm trees.

Still I cannot help but think of what could have been.  MY dreams [minus the nightmare] are coming true in California…subtracting an adult member from our family of four.  I have a job I love, my son’s in a school he loves, and I am about to move into my own apartment with my kids while saving for a car in my name.  All that is missing from this equation is my husband and everything he was supposed to provide:  love, support, protection, parental guidance, an extra pair of hands, a second income, and so much more.

For the first time in my life I am entirely alone with the single mother label.  Millions of women [and plenty of men] are the only parent in their family home.  I am not unique in my predicament– and I have done the solo mommy thing before– but never 2000+ miles away from my parents, the vast majority of my family, and my best friends.  One child is difficult enough when you don’t have the luxury of both parents in the home, two kids will be infinitely more difficult.  How I miss my support system.

I know I can do it though.  Challenges build character and make you that much stronger.  It’s not the life I would have preferred for any of us but our bond will be unbreakable, my son and daughter and me.

Some people ask if I miss Will.  Yes and no.  I sure as hell don’t miss California Will, that person is a stranger to me.  I miss the friend I used to have, the father of my children, the person who was my co-pilot in life.  In all honesty it’s having help that I miss the most.

Romantic love is not something that has ever ranked high in my world– all my exes can attest to this.  I’m too independent and focused on my own passions and ambitions.  After giving so much of myself to my children I want to be selfish with the Sloane that is left over….not surprisingly I am always critcized by my partners for being ‘distant,’ ‘self-absorbed,’ and ‘not giving enough attention’ to them.  So no, I’m not missing Will in the sense that I’m longing for companionship or pining away for my next boyfriend….it’s always nice to relish in my freedom and independence with no apologies.

Can you believe I type all of this on my phone?  My Christmas present to myself, a new laptop, will make a world of difference.  Come pay day I’m heading to Walmart to put one on layaway.  Ah the lifestyles of the rich and the famous.  ;)

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane

“A Fond Farewell”

We’re in Wine Country!
Adam debuts his new buzz cut shortly before we left Atascadero. Bonus points for the messy mouth.
The 4G Samsung Exhibit

What a month.  How can I even attempt to explain the myriad of events unfolding in the pivotal [life changing, draining, upsetting, frustrating, liberating, chaotic, isolating, emotional, and that's only to name a few] month of September?  Words fail me completely.  Do I even want to discuss most of this?  No, I don’t.  Yet there is a part of me that wants to reveal everything– loudly and clearly so there is zero confusion– because there are so many things that need to be said.  My son has endured unimaginable heartache and I am not going to add to his distress by conducting myself in a way that is not in strict accordance with the woman and mother I am….it his his privacy and our dignity as a family that I seek to preserve at all costs. 

While staying at the house in Atascadero belonging to Will’s aunt and uncle, Adam witnessed a physical action [I was not hurt-- and I'm certainly not making excuses for grossly inappropriate behavior-- but in the grand scheme of things the contact was relatively mild] against me.  Most upsetting was the fact that I was called cruel names while my toddler son was sitting five feet away.  Knowing that my innocent child was subjected to verbal abuse against his mother….I still cannot process that fully.  The legal component to ‘the incident’ has no place in Cocktails With Hemingway and I will not mention it in my blog, ever. 

Adam and I left the home and relocated to Paso Robles [a gorgeous place that I fell in love with instantly], two towns away from Atascadero, also within San Luis Obispo County.  We are living in a private home [there are four units total] for women and families that are in a major transitional phase of their lives.  Each of us have our own spacious rooms, bathrooms, kitchen, and living area.  The resources, compassion, and support available to us are incredible beyond measure….I will be forever indebted to this phenomenal organization for all they have done for Adam and me.  Whether it’s shuttling me to a prenatal appointment, making arrangments for play therapy for Adam, honoring my special requests for fresh spinach and ridiculous amounts of cheese, offering baby sitting services when I have obligations, or anything in between– we have so much love and assistance as we get on our feet in less than ideal circumstances.

Here I will tread very lightly and say that Adam has been profoundly affected by numerous factors since we have come to California.  As expected ‘the incident’ proved incredibly traumatic to him…and all of the many transformations he has made with our move to the west coast have been overwhelming.  I’m not going to elaborate on his behavior [suffice it to say he has been acting out] but he is significantly affected by the things he has seen and heard combined with countless changes.  With the assistance of my new home, I acted quickly to get him in therapy, and he has been very vocal and revealing with his therapist.  Making sure he receives extra love and attention– coupled with an emphasis on his feelings and positive reinforcement– while maintaining firm boundaries and explaining the consequences of actions is how I handle this from a parental standpoint.  Also, he is a priority enrollment case at a local school here, so we’re hoping a spot opens and he can begin the program as soon as possible.

Yes we’re divorcing.

Literally I can feel my mind shutting down [this post has drained me and I am on medication to treat a concussion] so I fear I’m going to be rambling from this point forward.  I wanted to further expound on the amazing people I have met here and all of the kindness I have received.  The only times I have cried since any of this have been happy tears because of others.  My housemate, Brandi, is such an incredible woman and it has been such a privelege getting to know her and calling her a friend.  Everyone in Memphis is loved and missed and I appreciate everyone’s support.

To answer the question on everyone’s mind:  I am NOT returning to Memphis and will remain in California, even after the pregnancy. 

Despite everything that has happened I love it here and can’t see myself anywhere else.  My short-term plan involves the best possible life for Adam, a healthy pregnancy and saving money.  I am doing everything in my power to parent Adam lovingly and effectively through these challenges, as a team, and getting him every resource at his disposal.  I am exercising daily with walks, eating healthily, and trying to reduce stress.  I am on the interview circuit for part-time opportunities and in the process of fixing my laptop so I can continue to receive income from freelancing and even surveys– and yes, government assistance in a variety of forms.  Come what may, I know that I am a strong and resilient woman who can handle anything life throws at me….and as long as I remember that I can only control myself I can get through this. 

Endless thanks to Chris DeFranco– one of my dearest friends for seven years now– for generously gifting me with a cell phone.  He exceeded all expectations by sending a fully loaded 4G  smart phone with a touch screen….yet another act of kindness that moved me to tears.  Being able to have a phone is such a relief as I navigate the interview circuit, my many appointments, and the blessing of being able to communicate instantaneously with family and friends.  I love you, Chris.  Thank you for all you have done for me.  To say I value your friendship immensely is an understatement.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

Guest blogger: June [welfare rant]

I am proud to introduce June C. Straight Crosby as my first guest blogger! Read on for June’s rant about our welfare system and be sure to check out her blog, Christian in Progress. Guest bloggers are always welcome on Cocktails With Hemingway so please email [sloanewreed@gmail.com] if you are interested.

June

 The health department is never a fun place to be. No matter who wealthy the municipality, how comfortable the seating, how organized the staff, any health department on any day is a bad place to be, at least for me.

See, the thing about the health department is, if you’re there it’s either because you need something checked out on the low or you can’t afford the care or services you need. And like you, everyone else in that waiting room is in the same predicament. It’s a bad scene.

So why am I ranting about health departments? Well, I’m just trying to set the scene. My rant for the day is on the quickly spreading and ridiculous notion that welfare recipients should be drug tested.

Several states are pushing bills to push the poor through more hoops to get the little help they can to survive. I know, I know … health departments.

As I ran across a story today reporting that Missouri — my current location — was considering a similar bill, I got mad as hell a little upset.

More than a few of my peers agree with this stipulation, so I’ve heard the argument before. “If they’re taking hard-earned tax-payer dollars, they shouldn’t have a problem proving they’re not just using the money for drugs.”

Since most of my views on politics are completely irrational and emotional, I usually try to avoid talking politics with my professional peers and colleagues. But today, coming across that story, I kind of felt the need to speak up.

I mean, it wasn’t that long ago, that I was “taking” hard-earned tax-payer dollars. I was 21 when I had my daughter, in college and making a whopping $8,000 a year. I got a job straight out of college making a slightly better $24K, but after taxes, I was bringing home about $18K a year. My husband (then baby’s daddy) was getting his start as a professional tattoo artist and neither of us were in a position to pay for health insurance, or anything really outside of the rent, car note, and utilities.

So, being the responsible mother I am, I signed my daughter up for medicaid and WIC, because milk, cereal and juice become luxuries when you’re broke and on your own.

I remember spending hours at the health department, every three months just to get WIC vouchers and shots for my baby. Hours I had to take off from my job that already didn’t pay enough. Hours I had to sit in a room full of other mothers with their sick, whiny and fidgety children to get what I needed to keep my child healthy.

It wasn’t a fun situation. Most days, the place would be so full I’d spend at least an hour on my feet. Then after the three hour wait, I’d get a 5 minute visit with a case worker, another hour wait and a 10 minute talk with a doctor or nutritionist.

I’m not complaining. I’d have done anything to keep my baby fed. But I can’t imagine on top of all that, being asked to piss in a cup to prove that I’m not too much of a lowlife to get vouchers to feed my baby.

I don’t know much about welfare, by the time my daughter was 3, I was making too much money to qualify for WIC or Medicaid. And even with the little I was making before, I never qualified for anything more.

But I do know that the people I am acquainted with who receive public assistance are not ballin’ out of control.

They’re not buying dope and pinky rings with their Section 8 vouchers and EBT cards.

Frankly, I don’t understand what the correlation be drug use and public assistance is, but I don’t like the insinuation of this bill — that hiding in the welfare system are a bunch of lazy junkies.

On the flip side, it’s going to be interested watching this “attack the poor” strategy backfire. The economy’s downward spiral has changed the face of the stereotypical welfare recipient. I’m not just talking about race here, but also socioeconomics. In case the tea-party politicians haven’t noticed, it’s getting hard for the middle class to feed their babies too. A lot of them are losing jobs, facing foreclosure, and already using food pantries and thrift stores. I wonder how some of these “respectable” constituents are going to feel when after years of giving away their hard-earned tax dollars, they find themselves pissing in a cup for groceries.”

Tweakers, birth control, the death penalty, etc.

5 Ways Methamphetamine Can Make You a New Person

Adam painted these in summer school. Aren't they lovely?

Sick and tired of having to justify your crystal meth habit to those sluggish, slow-brained folk?

15 Pregnancy Power Foods

Even if you’re not pregnant you should take a glimpse at these nutritious foods.  Raw broccoli may not be your idea of culinary bliss so be mindful of how to incorporate the items into dishes you enjoy.  I was pleasantly surprised how….common…a lot of these things were and how much of them I already like.  [[Sidenote: While I am on pregnancy and parenting websites daily-- I try to only share the ones I think will be most interesting to my readers-- regardless of whether or

not their uterus has an occupant or they claim a dependent other than themselves on their tax return]]

Innocence and the Death Penalty

I found this article through a link on an Amnesty International Piece entitled ’35 Years Of Death Penalty Regret.’  While I’m against the death penalty– though not for ethical reasons– the thought of innocent people facing execution makes me ill.  “Since 1973, 138 people in 26 states have been released from death row with evidence of their innocence.  Not to imply that a person should be found guilty if there is room for reasonable doubt [though it happens all the time]….but nobody should be sentenced to death without incontrovertible proof of their guilt of a heinous crime.

Lesbian marine in California to be jailed after she and girlfriend ‘faked marriages with male colleagues to pocket $75,000 in allowances’

The headline alone caused me to snicker before I even read this; however, there was really nothing funny in the piece.  To make a long story short the marine wanted to live with her civilian girlfriend off-base but couldn’t afford it, thus prompting her to marry a fellow soldier, a male heterosexual.  Of course– reading only the first few sentences– the rabble-rouser in me said: “Haha, look at them making a statement and calling attention to some archaic limitations our society places on love!“  But then we learn that the civilian girlfriend marries a marine as well…..their living arrangements are questioned, the marines are in lots of trouble and their is possible jail time.  Most shockingly, the female marine seemed blissfully unaware that she could get in any sort of trouble for this.  While I applaud the fact that she did not hide her girlfriend, she should have fully understood the consequences, and been willing to take more of an activist stance.  Overall I felt like her attitude and lack of research made her an inappropriate ‘role model’ [if you can even call her that] for the cause and A) it’s absolutely ridiculous that the military– though they certainly aren’t the only organization guilty of this– doesn’t respect and honor those who serve equally and B) marriage is still defined by gender as opposed to love.

Birth control, exams to cost more at Planned Parenthood

Budget cuts in Davidson County [Nashville, TN] put Planned Parenthood in a bind.  Sadly this is all too common at Planned Parenthoods throughout the nation.  Select staunch conservatives erroneously equate this crucial organization with an ‘abortion factory’– I actually heard that phrase used somewhere!– but your personal beliefs about a woman’s right to choose should not negate the importance of Planned Parenthood.  If you disagree with some of the services they provide, take your business elsewhere.  Don’t forget that they provide gynecological services to low-income and/or uninsured women, contraceptives, and disease testing.  We desperately need this.

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane