In Violent Times, You Shouldn’t Have to Jump for Joy

It took me 5.1 months to realize this (I’m an optimist, but I can no longer continue to give criminals the benefit of the doubt), but it has finally become clear to Yours Truly that every person I’ve chronicled in this blog since August of 2022 up until now – and then some – has been connected in the latest chapter of racketeering, and organized crime, in the saga that has been my life thus far..

After being assaulted and threatened by Silvester Brownlee (formerly referred to in this blog as “Bramford”) at Our Father’s House Soup Kitchen yesterday, I am no longer going to the soup kitchen. It’s run by racketeers anyway. True, the food was copious, free, and good, but after “Miss Katie” – the proprietor there – failed to call for help, or even chastise Silvester in any way yesterday, I can no longer ignore the hostile framework of the racketeers that run the place. They are not for me, not at all, and are disappointed and angry that I have seen through their hustle and publicly called them out on it.

Dear Reader, they have all been working together.

Silvester very cleverly (this is how they operate) “love-bombed” me in November after Judy McCormick (formerly referred to in this blog as “Irene”) accused me of making a pass towards her. He very ingeniously flattered me, telling me that he saw God in me, etc (the devil really studies people of God, and shapeshifts according to what we want to see in people), he shared his desire to find a good wife, someone he could trust, etc. While I told him multiple times that I did not feel romantically inclined towards him, I was flattered and believed the best of him. When one older, drug addicted prostitute (acting? Who knows?) called Tuesday told me, on the free green bus, that she knew where I slept and would find me one night using “gasoline and a match, bitch”, he gave her a verbal dressing down like I had never seen. It was quite good, and was one of the fiercest roasts of someone I’d ever seen. (Of course, she was in on it, but I really didn’t know that then.) He positioned himself in between myself and everyone else in the criminal gang who was threatening me or being nasty towards me – which was just about everyone back then. Everyone became summarily nicer to me due to my “relationship” with him, even though I continually insisted to everyone that it was just a “Godly friendship”. (Yes, I know. How embarrassing. The guy is a total reptile.)

Oh yeah, these buses are another aspect to this whole racket, by the way, so these crime bosses can limit and organize my travel, just like they did during my stay at Ocean Sleaze Breeze rehab in Pompano Beach (now it’s gone, like so many other “institutions” these wannabe Goodfellas have hustled me into over the years) and now there’s a company there called, Vector Construction , which I hadn’t needed, but where uncle Eugene had tried to park us after he’d murdered our mother to try to begin liquidating and transferring our assets.

Just like the staff and many students at the various schools I have been employed at, and the jobs I have worked at, including (most recently) Anthony’s Coal Fired Pizza. Just like the staff at Hampton Inn, and just like a corrupt faction of BSO and the Pompano Beach Municipal Services, who have maintained a united, fascist front to block me from accessing what is rightfully mine, due to my bloodline and their prejudice against it.

As I stated on my other social media platforms this week, the revelations that the Nazi Shine family of Florida, Colorado, and New Jersey (Joyce, Jimmy, Connor, Judy, and others) has been behind this latest chapter of the attempts to target me for my blood line. I guess they just hadn’t had enough from sterilizing my mother, and then murdering my father, and Uncle Jack (who they’d poisoned with radioactive waste for a number of years), murdering my mother, and then making me homeless last year.

Two different soup kitchen actors attendees have displayed clothing labels indicating the Shine family involvement: One eccentric young black man who wears his dreadlocks tied on top of his head in a shirt, and the label SHEIN was sticking out of it:

Then I’d seen another guy with a tee shirt advertising this nearby business, which I used to go to (before Broward County towed away my Nissan Altima for an expired registration sticker – another of their Nazified steps in their attempts to disenfranchise and depersonalize Yours Truly):

“You work for the Shines?” I said.
“Yeah”, he replied.
“You know they’re Nazis,” I said.
“I know,” he said, somewhat resignedly.

So once I figured out Silvester was just another pimp ass clown running game on me and had crime bosses that were likely Jesuit affiliated (disappointing, but not shocking, since I now recognize patterns), I basically ended the friendship. I’m essentially done with him.

He put cheap ass dollar twenty five plastic sunglasses in front of me and I politely handed them back to him and said no thanks, I didn’t want anything that came from him. He revealed his true pimp colors and proceeded to backhand slap the Fiji water bottle out of my hand, then threatened me, and demanded that I take my stuff out of “his” suitcase that his crime bosses he had given me:
https://mariachicat.wordpress.com/2022/12/29/such-a-little-thing-makes-a-big-difference/

We approached “Miss Katie” of the soup kitchen and she did nothing to call for help or anything. Her solution?
“I’ll get you another suitcase,” she crowed. That’s it, we’d thought. They work together. Fuck them all.

I called the cops – of course, they had their corrupt Keystone Kops at the ready that came and “responded” to the call (see my TikTok).

We also documented this latest experience via email to George Berlenge at First Baptist Church:

*********************************************************

Hi George,

I hope you’re doing okay. 

I ended my friendship with Silvester and there was an incident several hours ago at the food kitchen at Our Father’s House: He’d tried to gift me with a pair of sunglasses, and I politely but firmly told him no thank you, I didn’t want it. 

He proceeded to forcefully backhand slap my water bottle which I’d been drinking from out of my hand, then threatened me: “Then give me back my suitcase, take all your shit out of it and give it back to us.” 

Miss Katie did NOTHING to help us or call BSO….we did so ourselves, but as we did not just fall off the turnip truck, we know they are all part of the same crime syndicate and expected no real help. I told them I want a restraining order against them and (they did this when I was asking for protection from Michael Sparano, another gangstalker in their crime syndicate from Waterford Point, my old residence, who I was being harassed by) told me that the protocol was I’d need to go to the courthouse, fill out x, y, and z….so yeah. 

Silvester told me that he would “pay someone 50 dollars to put a bullet in my ass” and etc, etc. That I “f—ed” with the wrong one,” etc. (As if I ever f—ed with him, not the other way around.) Some other stuff too that I’m too polite to repeat here. 

I don’t know if one of you over there might be able to take me to fill out the requisite forms? 

I just want to go get my lunch and stuff without being harassed by these people. 

Notwithstanding, I’d love to give him back his (geotagged – we know that he was given these suitcases to give to us by his crime bosses) stupid suitcase, so if there is still a comparable option that you have on hand, please let us know when we can get it. 

We don’t want anything more to do with him. 

Thanks!

Maria (Mary)

“Miss Katie” of Our Father’s House Soup Kitchen (blond on the left).

Seriously, as I write this blog I’m already getting warning emails not to publish. What, I should stay quiet so the guilty can stay comfortable? I was never anything but nice to all of these people!

In the spirit of the title of this blog, and in recognizing that we, the true Israelites, should not jump for joy when offered crumbs that these Jesuit/Masonic/Club of Rome pagans looted, killed, and stole for from our homes, that they are just giving back to us, while grandstanding (take a look at the website, it’s hilarious) that they’re actually doing good in the community, as of yesterday I can no longer claim that this seemingly mild-mannered woman gives a shit about me or anyone she claims to be helping.

She is all about the Benjamins, and I’ve seen her promote the vaccine at her soup kitchen and they push masks and rosaries on people like they have an agenda – which they obviously do.

I should not have to JUMP FOR JOY for the things that I’m already entitled to, that they’ve looted, and stolen from me (in addition to being complicit in the murders of my family members.)

This is a whole traveling circus around me, a bunch of deluded criminals who think that they should still have access to me.

Her eyes sparkled with glee when she’d seen that I was in distress when Silvester was pimp-style threatening me.

Um yeah Silvester, I’m not the one – you’re confusing me with one of the hoes in your racket. We’re not about that life. We don’t (knowingly) associate with career criminals.

Hilariously, after we’d gone back to get our lunch (that was all we were really there for anyway), one of Silvester’s “friends”, a black man in tie dye, asked me if I was “done with the smart talk now”. Huh? “What does that even mean?” we asked. No response.

I hope you get arrested soon for your ongoing deception, duplicity, and straight up evil – or at least for pushing the vaccine and racketeering. If there is any justice in this world, you will.

For now, enjoy your staged tableaus without me – I’mma close the whole damn store on you. Bye!

Desperate Grifters Circling the Drain

Brad Oliver

Today’s email exchange from George will follow.

Officer Mike was not even mentioned. I guess since I am refusing to meet him in a civil court setting, the offer of help with housing will not go forward. Oh well. But George had other news!

Clearly, the duque above (name Brad Oliver) reads this blog and saw yesterday’s post so, even after I terminated our exchanges on social media, he is trying to track me down to get me to sign some bullshit, unlawful, phony Crown Corporation Maritime Dead Letter Office documents:

***********************************

Hello Mary,

I just received a strange phone call about you and want to pass along the information. A gentleman from Idaho , named Brad Oliver, called church asking for me specifically, to try and reach out to you. Apparently you and he speak on Twitter and/or a blog. He asked some basic questions that I declined to answer. I respect your privacy. He was aware that you have some money owed to you and his business deals with that recovery. His number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. I hope life is going well for you. He asked another strange question. He asked if you had access to a notary. If you do need one, I can make arrangements for you to use the secretary at church, if you wish.

Please be safe,

George Berlenge

************************************

Thanks George. 

That guy is a hustler. Thank you for not giving him any information. I’m actually the sole heiress to my family fortune, which is quite large. 

My extended relatives (who were complicit in murdering my parents, uncle, and others), whom I publicly distanced myself from via social media (they had actually planned to murder me, which would then have left them as “next of kin” – enabling them to collect on my inheritance.) My blog and social media posts were born of a need to assert the truth of the situation, disavow my relatives and their associates for what they had done, and defend myself from their many attempts to attack my credibility. Contention over these revelations caused quite a stir, since many corrupt people and entities, previously unbeknownst to me, had actually been working with them to try to get in on the deal. Apparently lots of money changed hands with corrupt individuals, and they were promised a cut of my inheritance. They were very disappointed when I realized the truth and eventually this caused me to get thrown out of my own property.  I exchanged several messages with this man before I realized that he’s just another grifter, circling the drain, trying to affiliate himself with me. 

Love of money – the root of all evil! 

Thanks, you too. God bless you & hope to see you Saturday! 

Please give my regards to Pastor Larry too. 

Best, 
Maria (Mary)

Possible Housing Help From First Baptist Church and Broward Sheriff’s Office

This is a recent exchange I had with George, an outreach worker from First Baptist Church. He has been very helpful to me so far, arranging for me to get a free phone, and help with food stamps, and whatnot.

He had mentioned to me that, as I am “well-manicured”, I might be an asset to him when meeting with city commissioners, et. Al…here in Pompano Beach. I tried to explain that I basically had a lot of haters because I had been targeted by racketeers multiple times and I basically exposed many of them, and am still in the process of doing so. I explained what had happened with the murders of my family, being thrown out of my own property by corrupt BSO officers, and the like.

I explained that I trusted that the military was in control and soon there would probably be mass arrests, due to (not limited to, but including) the “pandemic”, human and child trafficking, organ harvesting, genocide, the fraudulent 2020 election certification and subsequent cover up, and such. He responded with: Well, there were always conspiracy theorists who felt that that might happen, they were even talking about lockdowns back in the day, (1970s? 1980s? I don’t remember the time period he cited), but let’s just deal with the here and now, okay? Okay, sure. I tried to explain that the BSO, Hampton Inn Pompano Beach, Anthony’s Coal Fired Pizza, and basically all the other jobs I’ve had and schools I’ve been to have tried to (and often successfully) run game on me, and my trust level for BSO (as a general entity) was presently very low. He then criticized me for being a naysayer, and said I would need to get a job, etc, if I ever hoped to get off the streets. He also proceeded to warn me that I was presently “very youthful looking” but that “street life will take that away from you.”

Do you know who I am? I felt like saying, but luckily caught myself before anyone could accuse me of acting the diva. (He was basically dangling a carrot before me of a possible path back into the Matrix, starting over again from the lowest rung, clamoring for crumbs.)

Uh uh, we ain’t gonna do that no more! Now we’ve come to claim what is rightfully ours and avoid further diversions and Matrix traps.

Anyhow, I recently caught up with him (hope does spring eternal, even in the most jaded among us), and I said, well…maybe I’ll check it out.

With my proven record of having been gang stalked multiple times, I smell(ed) a rat with this scenario. I figured I’d follow his trail a bit, see what it entailed.

Here is today’s email exchange between us:

*************************

Hello Maria,

I just had an email exchange with Officer Mike. He would like to meet with you and discuss your needs for housing. He would be happy to introduce you on December 15th, at the next civil court meeting. Would you please consider sharing your phone number, so connecting the two of you can be facilitated easier? If you have any questions, my number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Take care of yourself and please be safe out there.

Have a blessed day,

George Berlenge

*************************

This was my response:

Great thanks. 

You know that the military is in control of our cities now, right? Civil court meeting? 

The Crown Corporation (USA, INC) is bankrupt, so these Masonic courts are not lawful. It may be unlawful for me to conduct business in any Masonic court (you can tell the ones are illegitimate, as they feature gold-fringed flags, indicative of their allegiance to the Crown Corporation of London.)

I would love help to put a roof over my head (you may already know that I’m actually already fabulously wealthy, but the Crown Corporation and their Maritime laws have denied me access to any of my assets unless I acknowledged my Nazi uncle Eugene Biedermann as executor of my mother’s estate. Hence why they threw me out of my own property, using their corrupt, illegitimate court system. Just a little background info – we are in a war. )

I do not want to do anything that is against the New Republic, and the traitorous, treasonous Crown Corporation courts do not represent We the People. 

I would prefer to wait if he insists on conducting this within an illegitimate, illegal, unlawful court system that is loyal to the (now-defunct) Crown Corporation. 

Best, 
Maria

*************************

He’s probably going to accuse me of being fanciful and not dealing with reality (as he sees it) or something. I could see him being like, “Well, I tried…..” kind of thing. I still (currently) hold him in regard, but I just don’t think he knows or innerstands the nature of the whole war we’re in and what exactly I have been up against.

There is a (slight) possibility that “Officer Mike” is on the up and up, and will try to arrange something for me regardless…but I’m a realist and am just kind of treating this like an experiment at this point. You’d better believe the goon goombahs who obsessively monitor and stalk me are all over this, and have probably already had conversations with “Officer Mike”, if not put him in my path to begin with altogether.

In this regard, I do feel that Military is the Only Way.

Look at All These Rumors

You wanna laugh! Omg….well you know how Irene has been totally hating on me lately right? I’ve been blogging about it. (Her friend with the one leg too. Well I totally told him yesterday at the food hall that if he has a nasty attitude, he can expect the same from me, and I didn’t care if he had one leg or not.) When I went to the church we usually go to on Sundays, I waited a few extra minutes after I’d seen her go in. I chose to sit at a different table. Unfortunately, I should have waited a bit longer because, aside from a few church regulars, we were pretty much the only people there yet. I sat at a different table from her this time, careful not to face her, and went up to make a Keurig coffee for myself and yes, get 2 halves of donuts (equivalent to one donut).

“You’re only supposed to take one half! Only one half!” she screamed agitatedly. I went and sat down to try to enjoy myself and tune her out. “You’re only supposed to take one half a donut! Not two! Only one!” I really looked around to see who was punking me. It was like a freaking comedy skit. It was actually hilarious, but unfortunately she’d intended no humor. This is the kind of bizarre stuff now that I have to contend with.

“That’s disgusting!” she said loudly and pointedly. I felt like we were in a grade school class and the church people were the teachers and monitors or something and she was telling on me, trying to get me in trouble or something. (This woman is about seventy years old, did I mention that? I think I did.)

“You’re disgusting,” I retorted back. Then I felt bad. (I can’t help it, I’m a nice person.) I clarified myself: “You’re not disgusting, but your behavior is disgusting.” At the table in front of me was a ninety year old, white Protestant church elder. Great, I thought. He’s going to freak out and throw the both of us out. I could picture the bourgeois church members regrouping during the week to discuss the wisdom of continuing to allow homeless people into their services.

I turned to her and told her “Don’t talk to me in public anymore. If you do, I’ll get a restraining order against you. Don’t even come up to me. Don’t speak to me.” Then I went up to her and acted like a mean girl, making fun of her 7 shleppy-looking bags. “Ew!” I said, pointing at her. “Look at her! She doesn’t even consolidate her bags before she comes to a church! That’s disgusting!” Look, two can play that game, I thought. Not that I wanted to play, just wanted to give her a taste of her own medicine. I ended up sitting away from her and trying to get the most out of the service from a different pew, and then avoided her for the rest of the day.

Today I spoke with a guy named Roberto, who’s been around this circuit for awhile apparently. I don’t trust anyone 100 percent, including him, but he’s the first person I met on my first night without shelter in this area. I told him my entire life story that night, but he claims not to remember. It’s possible that he doesn’t. I don’t think he’s a drug user or alcohol user, but I’m not 100 percent certain on that. At any rate, I told him, yeah, Irene gave me the boot – so I don’t like to hang out around her anymore. He said, yeah she’s been talking about you and told Big Missy (some older white crack head yenta with a big mouth) that it’s because you touched her inappropriately.

“What!” I replied incredulously. Basically, Roberto explained that Big Missy and a few others were inquiring about what had happened to our alliance – we were hanging out for awhile, and suddenly I was missing in action from her scene and vice versa. I didn’t exactly expect Irene to take the high road, per se (like I had tried to) and not disparage me to others, but I certainly didn’t expect her to try to pass off a whopper like that.

Now, I have nothing against gays and lesbians, but even if I were a lesbian, or even bisexual, I would never, ever, ever do something like that. Especially with someone like Irene. I wondered if she really thought that people would believe that. Maybe, who knows? I did tell him exactly what happened, though.

No, I explained to him, she told me to stay away from her and George when they were on a bench together, that they were a couple, and that George doesn’t like white girls. I told her that it wasn’t like that, I wasn’t interested in him, and all, but she didn’t believe me. So out of respect for her I started keeping my distance.

Roberto gave a hearty, whooping laugh: “That’s not her man! Ha ha HA! They ain’t no couple!! Ha ha ha ha HA!” He proceeded to tell me that she was a compulsive liar, stay away from her, something’s not right, etc. Her last boyfriend ended up dead because he slept with another woman after she refused to sleep with him that night, and everyone wonders if she’d had anything to do with it. Yikes. She’d told me her “good friend” Paulie had died, but she didn’t go into those details. (Frankly, it was TMI for me, but helpful to know, so I can continue to stay far the fawk away from her!)

I’m kind of upset, only that my initial assessment of Irene from early August was so off the mark. I’d really thought of her as a good, upstanding woman who just had really bad breaks. Roberto disabused me of that idea – he basically was like, no everything she says is a freaking lie. I suggested he tell Big Missy, if she is in fact the equivalent of the town crier, the truth, and he said no, she’s not even worth talking to, she’s horrible too, and advised me to stay away from her too. So I will.

I have a feeling that the truth will out anyway.

Can you believe this? It’s kind of amusing but sad at the same time.

Never a Dull Moment

Tuesday morning

Basically I became friendly over the weekend with Irene’s buddy George and this morning, at the bus terminal, waiting for the free bus to the soup kitchen, she broke her silent treatment of me to come up to me and warn me, in no uncertain terms, to stay away from the both of them when they are together.

“I didn’t come up to the two of you together – we’re just friends, he’d come up to me, it’s not like that, I just wanted to be near you guys at night because there’s safety in numbers….” none of my replies placated her.

“We’re a couple”, she told me. “He’s not interested in white girls. Stay away from us.” I basically told her she had nothing to worry about there.

I had a few moments to understand what had happened – when I didn’t let her treat me like she was HBIC on Sunday and checked her, telling her not to criticize me and basically mind her own business (albeit nicely), she decided if she couldn’t be a mom-like figure to me, she’d rather not be friends with me at all. Then I became friendly with her guy friend and she saw red. Now she wants me out of her orbit altogether.

Oh well. Now I’m back to staying at bus stops by myself. As imperfect as we all are as human beings, I preferred their company to others around here due to the fact that they’re just trying to endure, stay positive, and they don’t use drugs or alcohol. But hell hath no fury like…not necessarily a woman scorned, but perhaps one who feels threatened in love. I feel like I’d be safer not challenging her edict and by finding a new night spot altogether. Now I’m looking for another “buddy” to pair up with at night who can keep the crackheads and pimps away and watch out for any rent a cops, Keystone Kops, or anyone else with delusions of grandeur and authority. It really sucks out here, I’m not going to lie.

Have You Ever Worn the Mask?

“(M) to the (A) to the (S) to the (K)
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day,
Feds be hawkin me
Jokers be stalking me,
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity”
– The Fugees, ” The Mask”

Sunday Night:

Well, tonight I set up “camp”, as usual, by the three orange cones on the ant-ridden sidewalk, when two Broward County Keystone Kops cars showed up where Irene and George were sharing a bench and I was on my makeshift “bed” on the sidewalk. Irene had been giving me the silent treatment (apparently she was angry at me for calling her out at church). Wouldn’t you know it, they got out to talk to us. “Where do I know you from?” asked one Solomon-star clad lad, who looked to be in his late 30s to early 40s. “I don’t know”, I replied. He persisted. “Wasn’t it from…didn’t you put in a call from (someplace I didn’t know of) Grocery?” “No, wrong person. Wasn’t me,” I replied. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Mary”, I replied. He wrote it down. “Do you have a middle initial?” No, I said. “Last name?” “Castles”. “Spell that?” I spelled M-A-R-Y, C-A-S-T-L-E-S.” He asked for ID. I said no, I didn’t have any. Then I remembered that these Masonic cops use marittime law and abuse language to try to cast spells on us, in a sense, that many consider these exchanges to be tacit verbal contracts, so I added “but I don’t want a contract with you.” “I don’t know what that means,” he said. “Okay”, I said. “What does that mean? I don’t understand what that means,” he said. “Whatever it means to you”, I replied. “But I don’t know what that means,” he continued. “Okay,” I replied, “but this conversation is over.” I packed up my bed roll and walked down to the nearest bench away from my spot (where I now sit as I write this).

“So disrespectful! Talk to a cop like that” I’d heard Irene murmuring as I defiantly walked away from the nosy, Yenta-like, Keystone Kop.

One of the local crack whores approached me right away and asked what I was doing. I said there are cops down there and Miss Irene is kissing the ass of fake ass authority once again. She laughed. I continued, allowing myself to vent a bit. “They ask for way too much information, so I got out of there. I don’t know why they still think they’re running things, the Crown Corporation is bankrupt, but it seems like these cops didn’t get the memo. I guess they have nothing else to do but harass people in their little fiefdom.” She laughed.

This cop had made a pretense of asking us if we had sought shelter anywhere. Of course, we’d replied. They have no beds for us. He acted surprised when I told him that this was true for me as well. Then he asked if we were aware of the food outreach programs around here. We were like, “Duh.“

I don’t know if these cops’ primary purpose was to pick me or any or all of us up, shoo us away, or just looking for someone else and wanting information, but they both proceeded to park in the lot of the KL Construction site over here. My current feeling is that the contractors of the site have these BSO cops on speed dial and they just want to make sure that nobody goes on or around their site at night, and out of boredom/curiosity/power tripping, or possibly all three, they just decided to get in our faces and be yentas.

Exiled by Nazis? You Need Not Apply.

This week I had two job interviews. One was at Wendy’s, one was at Domino’s. Both were within walking distance from where I’ve been waylaid by my Nazi, fascist, and murderous relatives, their Nazi and fascist associates (including the HOA of Waterford Point, corrupt BSO cops, and Broward County officials).

Wendy’s of Pompano Beach

I almost clinched the job at Wendy’s – until I revealed that I don’t presently have my drivers’ license on me. Then the manager was kind of like, bye. I do get it – he feels the need to protect himself I guess, with the corporate bigwigs he needs to report to. However, having a social security number would not be enough, I guess, nor would the facial scans used by BSO (yeah, we all know you do this) or fingerprints, to verify my identity. Okay.

Domino’s Pizza of Pompano Beach

So, then I went on to the local Domino’s Pizza, where this guy Clay was very snotty with me – I mean, I’d asked him politely about a job and he’d told me to apply online, so I did. I then asked him if they had any free food for me that hadn’t been sold that day, and he just looked at me like one of the dregs of humanity. No, they didn’t. Of course not.

The guy I was supposed to interview with, Mike, wasn’t there yet – I was already sweating and gross, so I asked Clay if I could meet with Mike on the next day. He said, yeah sure, seemingly eager to get me out of the store.

Recalling the time I wasted at the Wendy’s interview, I responded to Domino’s online scheduler (via email) that I didn’t have my ID on me, would that be a problem? They responded with a stock “We have decided to pursue other candidates at this time.”

What to deduce? Wendy’s and Domino’s don’t really care to give a hand up to a great American citizen who has done a lot for her country and have, perhaps unwittingly, shown themselves to be Nazi sympathizers.

You Say City Hall, I Say Library

Pompano Beach City Hall

This A.M. I was really excited because I had gotten some rest last night, and was in good spirits. I headed over to the library, which opened today at 10, to check my email and whatnot. At about 7 AM, I was seated with my huge green duffel bag on a bench outside the library entrance to wait. I had a fruity looking pink towel around my shoulders that a kind stranger gave me a few days ago, since it was chilly. I was slumped over a little bit, but not lying down.

And then along came…

BSO cop

Nice looking young guy, telling me to move along, I couldn’t stay here, it was City Hall. Of course, I got up right away. I continued to walk along the perimeter of the library grounds. I passed the cop on my way. I said, “You know sir, this is the library, it’s taxpayer funded by We the People….it’s not City Hall. The Crown Corporation is gone, done – this property is paid for and belongs to We The People. We pay your salary.” He said, “Whatever, if you want to argue with me, I can arrest you.” I said that I certainly didn’t want that, and continued along my way.

He seemed to be young and, if I wasn’t worried about being hauled off to the Masonic Broward County Courthouse, I would have cracked a joke about his mom making him a really nice costume for Career Day: “I love the costume your mom made you for Career Day. Are you going to wear it again on Halloween when you go trick or treating? Tell her I said hi.” Of course, I demurred and went on my way.

Then a guy I’ve seen before and had words with (not too pleasant, I’m afraid) treated me to a small coffee at Dunkin Donuts, which was unexpected. It was nice to see that while not enamored of each other, we could be civil and respectful, and I appreciated the kind gesture. It was great to get a caffeine kick, even if the coffee had too much cream in it and was only a small.

San Isidro Catholic Church, Diocese of Miami

Since my bag and wallet were swiped last week and I since haven’t had any cash or ID, I decided to get the free bus to the local soup kitchen at San Isidro for one of their free lunches. I’m happy to say I got two cups of coffee (they make it pretty good), and I also scored a sweatshirt for these chilly nights – I think it’s starting to get chillier as we head further into the rainy/fall season. They usually give noodles and chopped meat, a small salad with cucumbers, bread, a side sandwich (usually peanut butter and jelly or bologna and cheese), and a breakfast pastry (coffee cake, donuts, or Danish). Unfortunately, today I got either ham or bologna with cheese, so gave that part away. I tried the noodles with chopped meat but since I’ve stopped eating meat (especially beef/pork), with the exception of occasional chicken when there’s nothing else being offered, I found it hard to eat. Interestingly, it felt violent trying to eat it. I took a bite, and felt that by continuing to eat it, I would be absorbing the chaotic, anxious energies of the animals that they experienced as they were slaughtered for their meat. I felt led to not ingest any more of it, counter to how I had felt about the chicken I was given last week. I ate the salad, two small Entemann’s-type donuts, a small piece of coffee cake, and iced water. The whole process of getting lunch here seems to take about an hour and a half to two hours.

The only downside now is that since I scored a big, fluffy towel a couple of days ago and now have a sweatshirt, my duffel bag is super big and heavy, but I imagine I’ll just tweak my packing technique.

Mithraism in Pompano Beach

All around Pompano Beach (well, the places the official “town government” has spent coin on, at any rate) there are statues of fish heads. I guess they are technically, pompanos. This ostensibly makes sense, because the fish is what the town is named for, right?

However, I got a strange sense as I visit Pompano’s public, taxpayer-funded attractions: the Central and Beach Branch libraries, as well as the beach: there is definitely a Mithraic vibe happening.

Benches surround this fish head sculpture at the Pompano Beach Branch public library.

Interesting.

Official Town Signage

The Roman Catholic church cloaks its inherent pagan Mithraism with the façade of Christianity.