Like everybody else, my story begins when a boy
courted a girl . . .
Then the boy and girl became man & wife .
And their 3rd baby was the charm . . .
My childhood was very confused; a hodgepodge of conservative values
at odds with the reality of a turbulent time of oppression . . . both
in the country and
in my household. It was as if everyone was playing a role. On the
surface, my folks
seemed like normal, decent working middle class people---only my mother
was an oddity for the time. But behind closed doors, my father was a
who was brutal to his family---he berated his oldest son, and shunned
me because he believed
that I was not his daughter (in spite of our shared 5-head). He felt I
was too intelligent to
be his child, and my real father was probably one of the scientists my
mom worked for.
It was an unbearable existence and finally it ended; I was one of the
first kids I knew
of whose parents got a divorce. Years later my mom admitted that my
dad’s jealous rages
were warranted, because she in fact had a workplace affair; long after
I was born.
I began to realize that hypocrisy is a part of everyday adult life . .
which is why I never wanted to be an adult.
I grew up in a time of cultural upheaval, in the
1960s, where the middle
class was no longer shielded from dealing with social issues
the downtrodden masses . . . racism, homosexuality, drug use,
birth control, the Vietnam War and POT.
I followed my heart to make a stand for issues
dealing with oppressing, segregating,
and conscripting innocent people who were targeted for their lack of
This led me to sit-ins, love-ins and peace marches . . . which led to
This is a pic of me from May 9, 1972, at UCLA, when a peace rally
became a police
siege . . . “My Night of Bloody Baptism”(yellow shirt/brown
cords). Before the next
sunrise, I had my face smashed in by a police baton while tending to
I was abducted by officers, cuffed to the leg of a desk and gang-raped
by officers . . .
because of my concussion, I have no idea how many.
After that night of mayhem, I took a step back .
. . but I still stepped up and
stripped naked in Easyrider, in 1974, to protest the unjust helmet laws
. . .
See the full Easyrider spread HERE
Like so many HIPPIES, I found my place in the
YUPPIE world where I was safe
and insulated. I got married, made a family, even put away the POT . .
. for the most part.
I wrote some letters, showed up at suburban GREENPEACE luncheons, but I
retired from the front lines of the struggle . . . like everyone else
But I confess, on those odd times when I would
smoke POT on the downlow,
I had a profound sense that the peace movement had unfinished business.
After my marriages ended, and my children were
raised, I got in touch
with my barefoot contessa and took cruises and trips around
experience the cuisine and the delicacies...
but mostly I was on a seXXX spree.
In my newfound independence, I rediscovered the
joys of toking up, which
were of even greater benefit than it had been, as I was turning 60. My
son and I
even turned our garage into an awesome grow. There I was, a block away
police station, growing POT without a hassle---they even came around to
me to make sure I was safe . . . and I shared the love. It made it hard
to realize that
so many people were still struggling for FREEDOM from
Like everyone, I began engaging in social media and was
activism around POT, which I was surprised was so fragmented and
divisive . . .
everyone definitely had their own take and it created warring factions
within the party. I went forth to try to be a voice of reason . . . but
locked and loaded on their brand of activism and there was no
reaching them . . . they were dyed-in-the-wool
(art work by Jeff Kappel)
Then one day, February 18, 2012, while in FREE
THE LEAF, I saw a picture
being shared about a FREEDOM fighter that had been hit by a car and was
in the hospital . . . the latest in a long line of setbacks going back
3 years to when his
“420 NITE CLUB” was closed on bogus charges and he spent 19 months in
fighting back until they confessed their lies by dropping the charges.
He was down
to squatting in an abandoned house and giving plasma to get by . . .
after the car accident he couldn’t even give plasma.
I went to his page to check him out and saw a
video of him at the courthouse in
Memphis on 4/20/2011, toking POT from an apple, taking a FREEDOM Bust
the system on trial. When he said "Grab your blunts, your doobies,
pipes and your bongs! Head to the nearest courthouse; the capitol
and smoke some
POT"! I was inspired to reclaim my role as
an activist . . . I reached out and wrote
to him "Hello HERO, be a friend?"
I wanted to involve myself in his life to find my path. I wanted to
warrior and ease his burdens after being so violated, battered and
scarred. So I
invited him to Cali. I did what I could to get him up and running. I
took him on a
cruise. He told me that he was crawling in life, but if I helped him
get on his
feet, he would carry the ball. And he has done so much more; more
than anyone could have ever expected from him. And he’s
only in the middle. He will
fight to the finish.
It has been so amazing... being part of his resurrection. He went from
the streets of Memphis to being homeless on Hollywood Blvd. Then it
around for him and he returned to his former glory as a strip club DJ
& Vine, down the hill from his pad . . . money for nothing and
his chicks for FREE.
He had it made in the shade. He was styling for a new generation of
loved them some TKP. He could’ve left behind the struggle to FREE
from PROHIBITION. He had a cool video to show for his activism. He had
his part. Who could blame him if he stepped down out of fear or for
Hangin' out in Hollywood with TKP & his
old pals. It was
quite an experience! I doubt that I've ever been more surrounded
by more male fire power than I was when I was in this picture.
(LOVE YOU R.J.!)
But even while he was having the time of his life, all he talked about
was returning to this battle he had forged in Memphis. Anything
failure for him and there could be no peace in his heart and mind. This
was a failure to his psyche. So I sold my home on the Central Coast to
warchest in da hood of Memphis; so he could be restored to his role of
PROPHET/Advocate. I am not some smitten kitten that has been led astray
by a Lothario of immense sexual proclivities and endowment . . . not
I am here for THE CAUSE! I have my own unfinished business.
I’ve got skin and
blood in the game . . . and as you will see in the videos below, the
bloodletting has increased . . . and may yet continue.
This is the part where people say that the rest is history, but around
is not a cliché old saying. Every time he posts a video challenging the
policy by breaking their criminal codes so he can accept the charges
and take his
case to the people at trial, to FREE humanity at the expense of his
each time he stands in court calling out THE EVIL EMPIRE for committing
persecution of PROHIBITION, accusing them of crimes against humanity,
while busting them out for their criminal conspiracy against him
he is a history-in-the-making moment for the ages. I don’t just fall in
with him all over again, over and over again... I worship and adore
He has made me into the person I've always wanted to be and that
is a priceless reward. Whatever happens to him next, wherever he
you will always find me right behind him every step of the way. Feel
to make him your HERO too . . . he will never let you down
This is me on the news after the latest bust.
This is me testifying on the stand.
Whenver you stand behind THE KINGPIN you find
yourself on the
frontlines . . . especially when you’re one filming it all for
The Ministerz of Injustice are trying to get me
for perjury for protecting our FRIEND INDEED:
TO my hero protecting me from the jackbooted militia
and The Ministerz of Injustice, from the police station to the court.
I have known many men in many ways, and none come
close to bringing me the excitement, enlightenment, passion
and pleasure I have known with TKP!
We always remember to have a lot of fun.
I am a long way from the beachfront suburbs of the
Central Coast of Cali--- in miles, attitude and evolution.
Da hood of Memphrica is a dark and dangerous place,
where hood rats pride themselves on their hatred of Whites and
their aggression toward elderly people . . . especially against women.
These lowlifes are the ultimate cowards. My person, property
are always in jeopardy---they throw garbage and chicken bones into the
yard at the dogs; they call me a “White bitch” on sight; they bump the
on their stereo till the walls shake; they scream and holler in casual
conversation the way they do in conflict and are always calling the
police. They fire guns into the air and into houses; so we keep the
boarded up. Sometimes, they erupt into WILDING, in the parking lots of
supermarkets for no apparent reason. When TKP is taken away,
I will be
alone when the long, lonely night comes . . . and there will be many
of long, lonely nights. But I will stand my ground and man my post
him all the way, because my desire to see humanity set FREE from
PROHIBITION and my dedication to TKP is stronger than
my fear of the dark or my dread of loneliness.
Here’s an inside look at another day in paradise . .
TURN ON FOR AWHILE...
I have been a naughty girl... and a freaky COUGAR!
In one more click, you will see me NAKED!