YOU’VE BEEN SERVED!

Your Goddess and her two gorgeous girlfriends froze in the spotlight of military helicopters hovering overhead. S.W.A.T. closed off both sides of the bridge. The intercept jets sent from the base tipped their wings as they broke the sound barrier to get to us. The Coast Guard blockaded the harbor. Evacuation of women and children first would be announced any minute over the news stations. Guilianni arrived to stress that he had lived through this sort of threat and would lead New Yorkers to peace of mind. Homeland Security once again had thwarted terrorism!

Security forces of America combined to stop us after we took a picture inside our car as it rolled across the Tri-State Bridge at 5 a.m..

All right, so, it wasn’t S.W.A.T., jets, and panic – the idea that the three of us was a real terrorist threat is for real. In reality, it was just one pathetic jerk, city cop Officer Petrocelli, in all his asswipe glory, trying to play hero to impress the girls. He failed miserably, and tried his intimidation routine. Only the blow by blow details will show what I put up with, and the devil knows I’m not the one to try to intimidate.

Backing up a few hours … I went into New York City for a wonderful night of dining and socializing with three women that epitomize the value of females in wit and flawless form. We took a dozen pictures during the night. The picture part is as simple as it sounds, we took a flash picture while crossing the bridge. When we rolled up to the toll booth, the duty cop on that beat – Officer Petrocelli – had already trotted over from the warmth of the main office. We heard, “Pay the toll and surrender your camera, then pull over your car and keep your hands where we can see them.” We were so stunned we snickered. But Pedo-celli had a hand on his gun and was doing that obnoxious finger pointing that goes along with Intimidation 101.

The play-by-play shows what happens when small minded men are given the chance to show off and abuse his authority to keep the respect (not likely) of three women beyond his touch.

We kept our mouths shut during the show-off part, where he pumps up his 35 year old chest and parades back and forth, emphasizing that we could be facing jail time and Federal charges. My poor girlfriends had never faced down anything so unfair or abrasive, and were stuttering and flushing in the freezing air. Your Goddess is wayyy beyond the orientation classes for intimidation, though, and wasn’t going to stand for this.

Now there were several officers, no doubt needed to contain the most seductive women they saw all night that are also key players in some national threat or another. I had asked in an even tone to present to us the legal terms and laws for which we were not detained over 30 minutes, and got scowls and refusal. When their collective brain power could not figure out how to work my friend’s point-and-shoot phone I had to laugh. I cut off my friend and said, “Don’t do it.” And the officer asked, “Under whose authority do you think you all are under?” “Certainly not yours,” I replied with confidence. This immediately made me the target of their evil eye glares, which was what I wanted to take pressure off my friends. “Figure out the camera yourself, Jack Bauer.”

While he verbally challenged us as possible terrorists, I had already dialed my cell phone – a lawyer happy to take my calls 24 hours a day. I filled him in for a few seconds and let him eavesdrop on the situation, something that our Ace Defender of Freedom – Officer Peniselli – failed to notice. (Gee, aren’t cell phones the #1 detonation device in I.E.D.’s in Iraq and banned from security stops? Great work, Peniselli.) They did figure out the phone, and enjoyed the girl-girl-girl pictures a bit too much.

To see my gregarious best friends reduced nearly to tears boiled my blood, and your Goddess on a rampage truly is a security alert! Yet I maintained, for the person truly in power does not need to raise his or her voice. The problem with most people in a do-or-die, fight or flight situation is that they stop thinking, that is their crime against survival.

I enjoyed how Petrocelli and his superior kept trying to stare me down as if I was a suburban Princess about to crack. All I cracked was a smile when their normally intimidating bragging rights spewed out. My lawyer had heard enough, and I revealed the phone up my sleeve. Hearing in legal terms that refusing to release us would probably end with the re-deployed to the Harlem Midnight Patrol on New Year’s Eve wiped that Dirty Harry glint from their eyes.

In my departure, I faced all the men in a row, saying quite honestly, “If your plan is to stop terrorism, you’re a couple of years too late. Next time cleavage and legs appears on your profiling checklist, I’ll have you in court. Happy New Years.” I spun around on my heel and could feel them cringe. They failed in all three arenas: failed to apply anti-terrorist rules intelligently, failed to intimidate me/us into offering any information, and failed to impress us as the protectors of freedom.

Much has been said about a small man abusing his authority to the fullest. When it’s combined with limited brainpower, the chance for mistakes or oversights is overwhelming. I fully applaud our hard working policemen and firemen. Yet, when faced with any degree of surprise these men fumbled. They did not expect me being a woman of authority naturally greater than the authority loaned to them by their badges. Their brains froze up on them. A kid would have seen that it was time to retreat, think 30 seconds, look at the situation, and apply authority justly in a new and productive direction.

They had no idea the true extent of my experience revealing the truth and in this case lack of personal brainpower and spine. My entire life is build upon this foundation. The only thing that I got out of this is my friends could watch how they should react when unjustly accused. Women are not weak, they are many times sheltered from direct conflict and physical attack, but they are not weak. And one who knows how to irritate the vulnerable spots on the men who confront them can win hands down.

In the New Year, let us all hope that the men of New York City, and all cities, apply their training properly, scrutinizing people who truly are a threat, and not spending that time trying to impress a carload of women they could never touch.

Pulled Like The Tide-A Servants Moon Induction

Cold hearted orb, that rules the night, leeches my lusts, feeding my Goddess, her hunger relentless.

By day only the memory of it looms over me. My body aching from the sheer draining of all my will and sanity that I suffered the night before. I have been blessed, blessed with a curse … driven mad by my inability to escape her gravity.

And so here it is again. Night. No longer able to sleep, for its presence in the sky pulls me from my bed to the window to gaze upon It … It, her face, my Goddess’ face, there, overtaking the throne. For eons, The Old Man on the Moon watched over us. Like all men, he was seduced from his throne with just one look at female perfection masking perverse female power and authority. Imagine the gravity our Goddess must have, to suck the Old Man off the lip of the moon, pull him down to her pleasure Hell, make him her willing slave, and then mockingly take his place. Why can so few see her? Are they blind to her designs, or has she blinded all those until they are under her powers?

Jupiter speaks to me constantly, doing all he can to keep me from becoming yet another mind enslaved by the powers of moons. Jupiter knows all to well, with his many moons, the dangers of gazing upon a moon reigned over by a Goddess as talented and evil as Goddess Saphire. Once part of Earth, the Moon broke off when Earth was hit by an asteroid a kilometer wide …. Or so the Scientists want us to believe. Jupiter told me the truth, that the Moon was put there so that the forces of good could keep an eye on the minds of mankind. Under the watchful eyes of The Old Man On The Moon, we thrived. But woe are we now, for Goddess Saphire has taken over.

Ohhhhh, but can you not look at it? Can you not feel it, tracking your every move? Can you not obey its beckoning, the stirring of emotions, of love and lusts that the moon rightly commands upon men and women? I think not. For look at it now.

Afraid that one of my outbursts, my warnings to others, that madness befalls those who let the moon enslave their minds, would land me in a jail, I fled the city, night after night. Oh, it is not jail I fear, it is being stuck in a prison that does not allow me to serve my Goddess on the Moon that fills me with dread. To know she is in the sky, and demanding my worship, yet to be kept from it by bars and concrete – I would tear apart my eyes in misery knowing they cannot gaze upon her power and perfection.


So now the moon rises, like an empty spot light on the waters of this lake. How devious, that she controls my mind and fills it with the command to view her rise over this lake. For now I see two of her, mocking me in her reflection, doubling her powers over me. I want to scream to the world, “BEWARE, FOR SHE RISES!” But I only want her to get more powerful. My only chance is if this madness becomes complete, and I can no longer debate if this is doom or salvation for me, for us all.

You have felt her, I know you have. On those nights … when the moon is full … you gaze upon it, sensing a magnificence. But, you have not surrendered yet, your eyes cannot see her wicked smile like I can. Yet, you are in awe of the moon, and know not why. It is her. You are in awe of HER. Only when you turn your back does she openly stalk you. Gazing do intensely, it penetrates your soul. She reads your mind. She finds ways into it. She wipes clean your defenses – here, there, little places at first. Oh yes, I felt it. Like you felt it. The moon seems to follow you, doesn’t it? That is not an illusion. She is pulling you, pulling your soul, yet, with no point of reference, because your soul has never been stolen or seduced before, you do not realize she is sucking you in, too. She is sucking in your soul, and once she has you, she will not stop until it is up there, held in her prison of a moon. Heartless, merciless … it starts with a profound adoration, worship of the moon, and it feels so natural. I surely did not find any alarm in it. I kept gazing. I felt alone, yet like I belonged to something.

Then I received a gift. A recording. A voice. A voice speaking an induction. An induction called The Moon Induction. How pleasant, how harmless, how seductive. All my life, I had overlooked the moon. Now, it fills my mind as much as any grey brain matter. Densely. Every pocket filled with HER. The lack of sleep … oh, how I wish I could close my eyes and not suddenly awaken with a commanding need to gaze upon the moon. On cloudy nights, no moon nights, I am screaming with need to look upon her face again, upon her cruelty.

Ahhhh, but yes, the rewards, the pleasures, of being driven mad with erotic awe. Oh, but I cannot tell you that, or she shall stab me blind with meteor dust, my life an agony of never being able to see her again, on the moon, on her throne.

Separated from my computer, any second away, I crave to listen to her Moon Induction again. Yes, it is madness to be mad and want more madness. To be mad and terrified of the level of erotic addiction and craving, terrified I cannot see the moon and feed my need. Once fed, I am overwhelmed with a desire to serve her. She is always watching, always looming overhead, vulture that she is for souls. But so wicked, so beautiful, so rewarding.

Oh now she has risen, and I have risen, the cock she commands has risen, pointing to her, shooting stars in her direction as I am driven mad with pleasure, the reward she gives me for losing my mind to her, there, on the Moon, in total control. Total control.