My Covid-19 journey of self-isolation: Day 21

March 30: I feel like I’ve been training for this pandemic pretty much my whole life, but especially ever since my life exploded and I became a full-fledged hermit in a self induced cocoon to try and survive and heal from my own tsunami of pain.

A loner by nature, I’m peaceful while everyone around me is in a frenzy. I find serenity in projects at home, the garage, and the garden. I have always enjoyed solo exercising, working out at home instead of the gym, and I’m even more self sufficient now. Beaches are closed, but my own backyard sanctuary is open 24/7.

There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. It’s a mindset. Home is not a prison; it’s a sanctuary. What a perfect opportunity to slow down and create your own retreat.

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Social distancing is a way of life. Not a problem. Avoid close contact? Not a problem. Shelter in place? Def not a problem.

I’m taking all the necessary precautions; washing my hands so often that I feel like LadyMacbeth minus the fact that I’ve never murdered anyone.

Doctor:
What is it she does now? Look how she rubs her hands.

Gentlewoman:
It is an accustom’d action with her, to seem thus
washing her hands. I have known her continue in this a quarter of
an hour.

Lady Macbeth:
Yet here’s a spot.

Probably because my mom was an RN and cleaned so often with Lysol that I’d often tell her I had Lysol in my veins instead of blood, but my house is VERY CLEAN. Like eat-off-the-floor clean. To me, the smell of bleach is as sweet as Chanel perfume.

Now I’ve ramped it up a bit. I disinfect food containers and cans before they come in the house, open mail with gloves on, and I have enough food to last three weeks.

The worst part of all of this is that Angel Boys 1 and 2 were supposed to visit and they had to cancel their trip. 2.0  just turned four and I missed his birthday as well as my son’s celebration, something that has really never happened in the 39 years he’s been alive.

When we FaceTimed, little Angel Boy 2.0. told me that all the libraries and toy stores and restaurants are closed. When I asked him why, he said it was “because of the virus.” I asked him what a virus was, but he didn’t know, only that all of his fun places weren’t available to him. Dad’s home because the university is closed and he’s teaching online. Mom and baby are home too, and I wish I was there to help, but I can’t go to them.

Everything is beyond surreal.

So far, I’ve had some good experiences and only one bad one.

This happened on March 11 and I wrote about it that day…”This virus is bringing out the absolute worst in people, including my own community. I was at our library, buying a couple books from the little store cos I’m going to have oral surgery and need to stay put for a bit. As I was paying for the books, I saw a huge bottle of hand sanitizer at the check out counter. I attempted to use it and the volunteer (about my age or maybe a little older) said it was “only for the workers” and “didn’t I carry my own hand sanitizer in my purse”. Needless to say, I immediately went over to the librarian who apologized and assured me that the volunteers are not supposed to HOARD the sanitizer, asked me to write up a complaint (which I did) as well as request of her to make sure all employees, volunteer/paid, knew that the library is a public institution paid for by my taxes and that was egregious behavior. What she should have said was “help yourself”. 

Except for the odd hoarding of toilet paper, that was really my only negative experience. Everyone else seems to have a feeling of community, that we’re all part of this strange Twilight Zone time, that 2020 will never be forgotten.

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So far, I’ve used five rolls of toilet paper. I know that seems like a lot, but I use it to clean, too. Did you guys hoard anything? How are you doing on paper products? Has this slloowww down changed your life? How? In what way? What kinds of adjustments will you keep when things go back to the way they were? What is it you’re missing?

I think we’re in for the ride of our lives. As above, so below.

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Soulshaping/Shapeshifting/Soulhealing

Tough truths from Jeff Brown.

Someone– I can’t remember exactly who it was–shared these words with me, and they resonated. Deeply.

I don’t often post words written by others, but his thoughts are so much what’s on my own mind lately, so I will because he expressed it more succinctly than I ever could have, which is saying, something ‘cos he’s a guy and all… I don’t know much about his writings, but he considers himself a grounded spiritualist.

Jeff Brown…http://soulshaping.com/

It’s up to you- its always up to you. You can deny, repress, distort, and bury your unresolved wounds all you want. You can re-frame them, pseudo-positivity them, detach from them, spiritual bypass them. You can re-name yourself, hide away in a monastery, turn your story around. And you can spend all your money on superficial healing practices and hocus-pocus practitioners. But it won’t mean a damn thing, if you don’t do the deeper work to excavate and heal your primary wounds. Because the material is still there, right where you left it, ruling your life and controlling your choices. This is the nature of unhealed material- it is alive, and one way or the other, it will manifest itself in your lived experience. It will language your inner narrative. It will obstruct your path and limit your possibilities. It lives everywhere that you live. And so you have to decide- excavate it and bring it into consciousness where it can be worked through and integrated, or repress it and watch it rule your life. It’s one of the hardest truths we have to face: If we don’t deal with our stuff, it deals with us. There is no way around this. Choose.

http://www.Jeffbrown.co

 

Call to action for Luna, a coyote

What has happened to Luna is nothing short of intolerable cruelty. 

Personally, I am absolutely heartbroken and disgusted. There is no justification for her suffering.

One of the valuable tools of being a blogger with a following of about 5,000 inclusive of all platforms-is the ability to ask for help, to send a message, to build awareness. 

This is an urgent call to action.

Please read this post, visit the links to learn more, make the calls, and do something good before the end of the year.

Friends , this is very important to me personally as well as to our wolf and coyote communities. PLEASE HELP.

Please try to help this tortured soul Luna get back to her safe haven of 13 years with Tomi Tranchita  in Illinois.

This is an emergency.

The State of Illinois is trying to get a judge to dismiss her case NEXT WEEK

We need you all to make calls immediately asking that the  Lt. Governor Juliana Stratton‘s office steps in and stops this nonsense that continues to hurt Luna.

Please comment and make calls to her office as well — Be prepared to leave an informing message asking her office to step in as we rightfully expect this judge to order the state DNR attorneys to STOP BULLYING Tomi and to mediate and settle this matter — NOT DISMISS IT.

Phone: (217) 558-3085

Fax: (217) 558-3094

Phone: (312) 814-5240

Fax: (312) 814-5228​

Fax and/or calls better than emails right now. 

Luna should be allowed to return to Tomi’s Federal and State licensed facility without fear of another illegal raid.

Bring Luna the Coyote Home
https://www.facebook.com/bringlunathecoyotehome/

Tomi Tranchita
https://www.facebook.com/tomi.tranchita

Donate:
https://www.facebook.com/donate/2687929711226109/10156970303414353/

History:
At dawn on April 24, 2019, Tomi Tranchita’s Wildlife Education facility and her home were invaded by armed officers brandishing assault rifles and beating on her doors. These Illinois State agents seized Ms. Tranchita’s four coyotes, needlessly shooting them with tranquilizer guns, and dragged the animals by their throats with pole chokeholds, leading to the death of all but one of her perfectly healthy animals. The brutal handling of the animals was in violation of federal regulations governed by the AWA. In actual fact, the raid itself was done on a fraudulently obtained warrant, violating Tranchita’s property rights and her 14th amendment right to due process.

This raid wrongfully shut down Tranchita’s long-established, licensed Wildlife Education Program. Therefore, we ask the State to affirm that Ms. Tranchita has satisfied all state requirements to resume her Education Program and that her surviving ambassador coyote may be returned to her facility.

The excessive use of force and intimidation was orchestrated by one “peace” officer (“Officer M”) employed by the IDNR State Fish and Game Agency (IDNR). Having recently moved into her neighborhood and hearing a coyote howl, Officer M was determined to seize Tranchita’s animals. He investigated her program and found that she had inadvertently forgotten to renew a $25 state permit.

However, in applying for a seizure warrant based on that technicality alone, he neglected to inform the magistrate that Tranchita’s facility has been federally licensed the entire 13 years of its operation.

Fraudulent warrant in hand, Officer M led the violent raid showing no regard for the animals’ well-being. Beautiful, healthy coyotes, all crate-trained, were dragged by their throats, choking and bleeding. When Ms. Tranchita offered to crate the animals for their own safety, Officer M would not allow it, saying he was in a hurry because he was going on vacation. 

The traumatic, brutal handling in this seizure of her four long-established educational coyotes is portrayed on several videos like this one. These animals had never before experienced violence in their lifetimes. 

The brutality continues to outrage more than 40,000 citizens. The stress perpetrated on Ms. Tranchita’s animals resulted in three dying, still with no confirmed explanation. Luna, the last survivor, has been moved three times and was in state custody for five months — all on the taxpayers’ dime

Officer M also lied to Ms. Tranchita, saying her coyotes would be taken to huge one-acre enclosures. In fact, Ms. Tranchita’s facility is significantly larger than the small enclosures they were moved to. Before he left her property, Officer M told Ms. Tranchita he knew she was upset, and he suggested she call a mental health hotline. 

The IDNR denied Tranchita’s court-ordered visitation for weeks.

The agency still refuses to return any of Ms. Tranchita’s personal property, licenses, and documents Officer M took from her. 

Officer M attempted to instigate neighborhood concerns but failed. By his own admission, no other neighbors had any problem with the coyotes in the 13 years Tranchita operated her facility. Every neighbor, every facility visitor, and every annual federal inspection report for 13 years stated Tranchita took excellent care of the animals; they had no concerns about her facility, or her educational program, which has also had a flawless safety record.   

Indeed, the IDNR has known all along of Tranchita’s facility and her coyotes. They had been to her facility. They had themselves licensed the facility for years. They also knew of her USDA-issued federal license and that she’d held it for 13 years.

Even though this officer is under investigation by the Inspector General’s office for his failure to uphold due process procedures before instigating this raid, as well as his unprofessional and derogatory comments and brash behavior, IDNR proceeded to file charges against Ms. Tranchita instead of firing this rogue officer and apologizing for the damages his actions caused. 

Months of court hearings followed the seizure, beginning in traffic court. The judges there had no wildlife law experience. Therefore, they deferred to what the IDNR’s attorneys claimed the obtusely complex rules meant. 

So what did the IDNR ultimately conclude Ms. Tranchita was guilty of? 

The only violation they could charge her with was the lapsed $25 “furbearer” permit — a document you can simply acquire online from the IDNR agency’s website. Conversely, the USDA-APHIS license requires annual onsite inspections of the facility and the animals, as well as acquiring the same from the veterinarian of record. These requirements, and their costs, are mandated of all licensees annually. A renewal packet is sent to every federal licensee each year prior to their renewal date, while the state IDNR offers no such oversight, not even a renewal reminder.     

Is it unreasonable for a citizen to presume that she is not violating any laws when, for 13 years, her federal government renews its approval to continue operating? Further, is it unreasonable to expect that our federal and state agencies, which both regulate these activities, would communicate with each other?

Clearly, Ms. Tranchita’s missed permit payment was inadvertent; she was not trying to get away without paying a $25 fee (and immediately acquired the permit). Consider the expense and investment: She invested tens of thousands of dollars in her 13-year Wildlife Education Program and facility; and since incorporating the non-releasable coyotes as ambassadors into her program, she has paid all costs and requirements of annual inspections by both state and federal veterinarians and officials. Due to her investment and her dedication, her renewal has always been approved, and she has remained licensed under a USDA-APHIS Federal Class C Exhibitors educational use permit. There has not been a single infraction or complaint in 13 years. The facility exceeds recommended requirements for caging, public safety, and federal AWA animal care standards. And it certainly exceeds the IDNR’s standards.  

This disturbing, unwarranted, and completely unnecessary action was an egregious civil rights violation by the Illinois wildlife agency. The State is blatantly exhibiting a double standard. The IDNR makes many allowances for various captive wildlife purposes and pursuits, and Tranchita’s interests are not unique among them. Selective enforcement is unacceptable.

Wildlife values

Americans’ wildlife values have been shifting for decades. How long must we be forced to wait for our state wildlife agencies to govern accordingly? These agencies do not own our wildlife, we do. They work for us — for all wildlife and for all people EQUALLY. 

All non-releasable wildlife is required by the State to be euthanized. One of the very few exceptions is the rare availability of a licensed sanctuary or education program willing to accept such animals. Rare, because it is a tremendous undertaking requiring extensive knowledge, expenses and personal sacrifice to meet these animals’ needs for the duration of their lives. 

Tranchita took pride in these animals and found it rewarding to educate the public about coyote biology and behavior, their value to our ecosystem, and methods and solutions for coexisting with them to reduce human-wildlife conflicts.

These animals were not house pets. The four non-releasable coyotes were safely held in large enclosures spanning her property. Tranchita’s program is clear about its position on the risks and challenges of responsible, qualified possession. Contrary to the State’s attempt to now repudiate Ms. Tranchita’s program despite its acknowledged approval, her program’s tutelage has fully supported the State’s opposition to keeping coyotes as “pets”. Education program animals are always given names and provided personalized care and attention. That does not define nor classify them as that of a house pet, and it is not a crime. Belittling the value of 13 years invested into such an animal is malicious manipulation of public opinion and of decision-makers unfamiliar with this professional pursuit. 

It is heavy-handed incidents like this — when citizens are denied their right to due process — that solidifies the public’s distrust of government authority and law enforcement. This display of authoritarian government was and is not acceptable.

We ask that Governor Pritzker advise his appointed IDNR Advisory Board to direct the IDNR agency to review its prejudice in this matter and immediately seek an amicable settlement agreement with Tomi Tranchita. Specifically, we ask that IDNR affirm that Ms. Tranchita has satisfied their requirements and may resume her Wildlife Education Program. Finally, we ask that in so doing, the State will allow Ms. Tranchita to immediately reacquire possession of her last surviving ambassador coyote. 

 

 

Doris Day: Whatever will be, will be…

Today Doris Day died at the age of 97, and I am sad.

I don’t have a direct connection to her, but she touched my heart with her song “Que Sera Sera”, in the film “The Man Who Knew Too Much” with Jimmy Stewart. Searching for her kidnapped son, I could FEEL her anguish as she sang the words that would eventually free him.

A few years ago, I was on a blissful, happy road trip and we stopped in Carmel. Although we didn’t stay at Cypress Inn, Doris Day’s hotel, we spent the evening there listening to an amazing singer belt out the old songs, those good ones from the big band years. It was a joyful and lovely experience. My heart was full that day.

Doris Day was an animal activist long before it became trendy; even before the internet could help promote good people with their wonderful intentions to rescue and adopt dogs and cats.

Here’s a link to her Doris Day Animal Foundation: https://www.dorisdayanimalfoundation.org/?fbclid=IwAR1R3yb2B8aGkxZehdTWnJ3kLGMnNmKhrTwtXZU-Pl3P-jyFok2N85QXnDQ

Que sera, Doris. Whatever will be, will be…That song always makes me cry and I lose it every single time I watch that final scene where her son runs into her arms.

Conversation with Inspiration: Gold Medalist Megan Blunk

“My accident gave me a second chance at life, so I want everyone to know that you can fight it – and you can be happy. No matter what happens in life, don’t ever let it hold you back.” https://meganblunk.com

Totally rando and out of nowhere, I was in a very public place and there was a young woman in a wheelchair sort of pushing another wheelchair with slanted wheels (that I later learned was used when she played basketball). I asked her if she needed any help and she declined, but we started chatting and I learned that she is a real live HERO.

Her name is Megan Blunk. Originally from Gig Harbor, Washington, Megan is a Paralympic gold medalist for wheelchair basketball.

Megan discovered adaptive sports a year after a motorcycle accident that paralyzed her and also revived her former inner athlete. Prior to her accident, she was a five-sport athlete.

She went on to play college wheelchair basketball at the University of Illinois, where she completed a bachelor’s degree.

She’s an advocate for adaptive sports and speaks to groups and one-on-one with other athletes.

“Whenever I meet someone recently disabled, I reach out to them,” she said. “I would be there in a heartbeat if someone asked me to see someone who had just been injured.” https://meganblunk.com/2016/09/01/south-sound-magazine/

In my opinion, Megan really needs to do a Ted Talk. Her story — and her inner and outer strength — is an inspiration to everyone.

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Megan holding her gold medal.

“To sleep: perchance to dream”…

Of course this is Shakespeare:

HAMLET:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub

Yeah, there’s the rub, that’s for sure.

I used to love to sleep. Sleep came so easily for me. Almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, I could count backwards 5-4-3-2-1 and be asleep. Just like that, *snapping my fingers*. I could fall asleep anywhere. I took blissful, restful sleep for granted.

Back then, my dreams were mostly of my beloved dogs and cats that had crossed the Rainbow Bridge, sometimes bringing happy messages back to me. Or every so often, I’d have a prophetic dream about my son but never really a nightmare.

Last night was a big deal for me.

April 1, 2019 marks the first night I slept an entire night without waking up once in dread, in a cold sweat, without my heart beating a million beats per second ready to jump out of my chest, without the gasp of that split second between sleep/awake and remembering that my daytime reality IS the nightmare, that there really IS hell on earth, and I am living proof.

When I first woke up this morning, it took a moment for me to perceive that it wasn’t 3am, that the earliest of early morning birds had started to sing and there was a faint hint of dawn lightening the sky.

There was no swirling of dreams that made waking up a death unto itself. A shard of glass to slice at my heart and torment me, poking at me with each inhale and exhale for the rest of the day.

There was peace. OMG, so much peace.

I had to help my brain process this miracle of healing, a painfully slow process of realization that FOR THE FIRST TIME, I had slept unfettered by the bondage of painful memories that morphed into night terrors so incredibly lucid that they haunted me during the day.  Sleep was walking into a dark tunnel with not the slightest glimmer of light at the end of it. Depressing, huh?

I couldn’t endure another dream of a gigantic mottled black plague-infected rat with oozing sores climbing in my bed to curl up next to me, no more continuation of the abject panic that permeated my waking life.

No more dreams that weren’t even really dreams, simply the continuing of the day’s macabre horrors.

For more than three years, thirty-six months, 1,095 days, 26,280 hours, and 1,576,800 minutes, I couldn’t sleep, and I’d cry out to no one into the silence of the night to please wake me up from this nightmare, please take me out of my misery; only to realize that there was no respite for me.

“No sleep for you!” said the sleep Nazi (an homage to Seinfeld’s soup Nazi.)

The nightmare WAS the reality.

The dark soul of the night became the abject despair of the day.

There is the saying “follow your dreams” but if I had followed those dreams, I would have ended up in a vortex of Sartre’s No Exit. 

I was in a neverending episode of the Twilight Zone, caught in a purgatory that I could never have prepared myself to endure. Drowning.

I tried everything: meditation, EFT, mantras, deep breathing exercises to control my out of control hyperventilation /tachypnea, conscious mindfulness, and lessons in neural plascticity to nurse my wounded brain. One of the best pain relievers was and is listening to raw binaural beats with headphones. Some nights, that was the only way I could even attempt sleep.

I dreaded going to sleep, the actual sleep, and the waking up from an unhappy sleep.

The simple tortuous action of closing my eyes created a canvas where I’d be subjected to an endless loop of conversations, images, mirages spanning more than twenty years.

I wished for a lobotomy, to be in a coma, to erase all that was etched in my conscious and subconscious.

Through pain and fear and sadness, I discovered that the only cure is radical acceptance. I couldn’t run away from it. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Wherever you go, there you are.

I had to stand my ground and surrender to the pain.
To love it, honor it, respect it, and learn from it.

Now. Right now. I hear a hawk, I hear a scrub jay, I hear the angry chattering of a nesting Bell’s Vireo. Off in the distance, I hear a train. I hear an airplane. I hear a symphony of wind chimes. I see blue sky, I see lush green grass that’s been lovingly tended, I feel a gentle breeze lifting a swarm of Painted Lady butterflies from the yellow marguerite daisy bushes to settle for a moment on the Pride of Madeira. All the rain we had this season birthed an incredible floral display.

Everything around me seems to be conspiring to show me that there’s still beauty after a storm, that there’s happiness to be discovered if you look and listen.

IMG_7039Oh and I see a bunny. Always a bunny.

My heart is wounded and scarred; I’ve been through a war zone,

I had no weapons to fight the enemy that raped and pillaged my life and my innocence. And my heart.

I’m collateral damage,

I’m eternally sad.

But I’m alive, and that’s something to be grateful for.

And…for the very first time in a long time, I slept an entire night and woke up in serenity and peace.

(But that peace wouldn’t last, as I soon learned…)

 

A Slice of Covert Racism

On a recent flight back home, I was sitting in my usual choice of an aisle seat mostly because I don’t like to crawl over strange legs when I need to use the restroom.

An older (older than me) woman crawled over me to take the window seat.

A young man was escorted to his seat directly across from me by a flight attendant who commented on his height and asked him how old he was as he was flying as an unaccompanied minor.

He was nine-years-old and about six feet tall.

Just a little boy in a man sized body.

I could feel his embarrassment as he was singled out for his height and I’m sure has had to endure a zillion comments about it.

He was very quiet, but seemed a little scared, so I chatted with him a bit, and he was very sweet. His dad was picking him up and he would be starting school in San Diego. He began to open up and just as I suspected, he was a little boy who didn’t really know how to deal with the fact that he looked like he was in high school.

The older woman next to me said, in a very heavy southern accent, “I should get his autograph now, he’s going to be famous.”

I didn’t respond to her right away because I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt or maybe I had misinterpreted what she was alluding to, but she repeated herself loud enough for the young man to hear, and I felt that I needed to do something.

I said, “What are you saying? That because he’s tall, his only life path is basketball?”

She looked at me and said, “Well, he’s tall…” and then her voice and thought faded.

I replied loud enough for anyone to hear, “Maybe he’s going to be a doctor. Or a professor. Or an artist or a writer. Just because someone has a physical trait doesn’t mean it’s a life sentence. He can and should do whatever touches his heart.”

The woman had so much ingrained covert racism built into her that she didn’t really know what to say, but a few minutes later she told me that she thought about it and agreed with me, so then we had a pleasant rest of the flight.

Did I change her?

Probably not, but the grateful smile I received from a nine-year-old made my day.

(And did I really need to mention that he was a six foot tall African American nine-year-old child or did you figure that out for yourselves?)

And then I saw this photo of Trump serving fast food to the Clemson team.
More covert or not so covert racism. Love Reggie Bush’s tweet.

Best Mantra for 2019: Om So Hum

so humHappy 2019!

I’ve been meditating on a fairly regular basis for a while.

While I love the effects of silently repeating Om Mani Padme Om, the Dalai Lama’s favorite mantra, I find that So Hum or Om So Hum is the mantra that works best for me in the morning, which is my favorite time to start the day with positive intentions.

Regular meditation helps to relieve stress and improve the quality of sleep. The goal of less stress is to achieve a happier and healthier life. It’s believed that meditation improves the immune system and thereby helps in controlling blood pressure and lowering blood cholesterol.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

So Hum

I am.

(Or, I am that.)

From Sanskrit, it means identifying oneself with the universe or ultimate reality.

As we meditate on this, we come to realize that we are all one–we have all come from one Infinite Source, and a part of that infinite source is present in all of us.

We are all connected.

Powerful. Peaceful. Grateful.

OM is the sound of universe.

Chanting Om So Hum daily for ten to fifteen minutes can relax the breathing and balance our inner energy flow.

  • Close your eyes and settle in by taking a few deep, cleansing breaths. Note how you feel in your mind and body.
  • Start to repeat the mantra So Hum or Om So Hum to yourself silently, slowly synching the rhythm of your breath to the mantra.
  • As you inhale, silently repeat the word “Om“
  • As you exhale, silently repeat the words “So Hum
  • Continue breathing slowly and aligning your mantra to your breath, being careful not to rush your breath if you notice your mantra speeding up.
  • Each time you notice your mind start to wander, gently draw your attention back to your silent mantra.

This is really cool…

The Collective Dark Night of the Soul

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

Mayor, Mayor, on the wall…

Who’s the most intelligent, caring, and forward thinking of them all?

Lolz, THIS is pic speaks a thousand words, doesn’t it?

At the last of three Mayoral candidate debates/forums in Carlsbad, this one hosted by Pacific Ridge School and moderated by Voice of San Diego’s Jesse Marx, we witnessed a tired old sour faced dinosaur listening to the brilliant words spoken by a true visionary.

THIS is what Carlsbad needs.

Present in the moment, alert, thoughtful, intelligent…

Cori Schumacher.

Real. Genuine. Authentic.

Mayor Mall is the embodiment of “liar liar pants of fire“.

He was not truthful when he said he really really really responds to each and every email.

I can only speak for myself BUT I know that is specifically and categorically UNtrue.

He has NEVER responded nor acknowledged any email OR snail mail letter I personally sent to him during the years he’s been mayor of Carlsbad.

He delivered more confusing and obfuscating word salad, but what REALLY spoke to me was the demeaning and misogynistic device he used by consistently referring to Cori Schumacher as “her” or “she”, instead of affording her the respect Cori deserves by speaking her name, and by snarkily laughing while she was responding to questions.

This is a tool in the arsenal of a misogynist who covertly/overtly minimizes, diminishes, and depersonalizes women.

Unacceptable.

We will no longer have our voices silenced.

Vote for Cori Schumacher.

It’s a win-win for Carlsbad.