At the blog of Jennifer S. Chesler there is another piece up from her memoirs that relates to Once-Mother's Money-Driven Moves, and the Gargantuan activation of this monstrous familial tradition.
“What, JC, what?” said once-mother, excitement piping its way up her body: first, her crippled feet, clapping like seals, then the metal screws in her hip jangling, the mutilated breasts flopping wildly in the wind, the clothes that seemed to be indicative of generalized mental retardation in the town where she and my alleged father lived.
Here is the previous list by me of similar pieces.
EDIT: & here The Emotional Bankruptcy of the Cheslers shows how repeated attempts on a young life, with varying degrees of sincerity, can result in both PTSD & a justifiable proclivity for vituperation. I assume that I will be rubbing the shit or piss. Indeed, it will not be the first time.
EDIT: & here, again, we see a new piece, Dear Hangers-on and Miscellaneous So-Called Humans, where fascinating details about the 98 VW Golf GL that died relatively recently, possibly by suicide, can be seen, and the family, corrupt as a democrat caucus, flourish in their infamy.
EDIT: & yet again, my wife misses the damp car, in The Former VW of my... We have spoken with Baphomet, & he says that corona virus will do great in AZ, even in J., due to the crowned & conquering child thriving in stupid & pretentious environments. We want a 1950 Chrysler Town & Country. I am enormously proud of my crazy wife. She has a fictional gig, joking to the rich & retarded in war-torn regions.
EDIT: & You Are the Ghost Who Molested Me shows us that sheer unmotivated hatred is always purer & better, so the pedo gimp trash will always win the scumbag sweepstakes, at least in the best regulated households.
EDIT: & filial piety moves into overdrive in My Mother the Thief, where my wife wonders where her goddam Jew-gold went, & why the Modelovirus is being so tardy in laying vengeance on some grotesquely inflated egos & asses.
EDIT: & we read about how egregious BS is not the sole preserve of politicians, but popular with every variety of scumbag in The Singing South Floridian Supermarket Cyclist, or, So My Parents Said.