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Pt 2 August 2003, Email to Sophie the Orangutan, Breastfeeding

In Uncategorized on January 29, 2013 at 2:56 am

pt2 Sex, drunk, breastfeeding, cond. Email that I believe helped change history on bringing back breastfeeding. August 2003. I said I might have been drunk, but perhaps I quit by then. I sometimes drank 3 glasses of wine as I wrote. Yet in town of Greece, where they live to be 100, they drink that much. But with today’s competition where Jews don’t drink, nor Muslims, Christians may want to rethink and see if Jews or another force put “wine” in Bible writings to destroy our species while their babies, future, looks much brighter. Below are 82 photos of “Sophie the Orangutan” from the Brookfield Zoo which someone posted in Flicker. You can look at the animal with baby and follow along as I continue to pour my heart out to an animal for no one else cares.

Sophie-Orangutan-+-baby-5

Con’d from last post.

……..I do know from the parades I’ve been in Chicago that women are still staying home for years without coming out because they are afraid to nurse. Paranoid, but for a God-given reason? Or a reason put down by doctors and the Nestle’s corporation, that also makes Nescafe, and Coffeemate and dreaded baby formula, sugar and drugs. Doesn’t seem like God made that rule. They say we are the superior intelligence, Sophie, I don’t know about that. We should make a grotto in the zoo for you to breastfeed your young one. This grotto would be for you Sophie, beautiful stones if rare and expensive quality, the most wonderful object or exhibit to look at in the zoo. There would be a flower garden around you as you nurse your baby. This garden would have the rarest, most expensive orchids. Not giving orchids to super-bitches for doing nothing. In this grotto for the breastfeeding orangutans, some humans would be able to touch you and hug you and thank you for giving up 6 years of your life. You could have been a doctor or lawyer with an MBA, but no Sophie, you wanted to nurse a baby. In this grotto, would be the best foods for your health, with plenty of water and liquids for you. There would be music, all kinds of music so that you could sing or dance with your child. We could even pipe in. Chicago stations play great music, that you can know all the words to. We could teach you to sing to your baby Sophie!

You’d like those DJ’s too, Sophie, they are the greatest in the world!

Perhaps, you and hubby can dance slow in the “grotto” and then make love and we can watch you like Elvis watched his band members having sex with his 2-way mirror.

It is cherry season and my favorite. My sister, Mary, has a cherry tree and we used to make cherry pies. I stopped at Bockwinkel’s to buy some real butter and bought a big bag of cherries for $1.19 Ib. When I eat the sweet, sweet cherry I nibble on the seed inside which looks like a clit. What I wish men would do is keep that cherry pit in their mouth after they swallow the rest and play with it with their teeth, but not bite down.

(From my sex books, study, and imagination for never really found a long steady partner. They’d “promise” but abandon me and none read the book or books I asked them too not even Jew I had sex with. Then when they go to “eat me out” they could put my clit between their teeth and not be afraid? I wonder if a man enjoys his blow job from a woman as much as she likes it. It is all good foreplay that leads to penetration. That is the jackpot winner!!!! I think we will think twice when we hear the from “It’s the pits!” We’ll make that singular it is the “pit”.

You would have a velvet throne, like I did when I nursed my baby Kings. I wonder if the world gives them a hard time because they were raised differently. I hope I didn’t raise them in such a way that they are shunned by others. There would be a hammock in that grotto in the zoo, where you could take a nap and read or rest so that you are relaxed when your husband comes home.

Sophie, what is your husband’s name anyway? No-name orangutan? This sounds like an American Sit-com. It would be entitled “Sophie’s World”. (Note as I write today, 1/28/13 how I’ve matured. I didn’t realize that Jews made White men jerks, stupid, crazy, ugly, short, lesser than themselves, blacks, yellows etc. I’m just writing from my feelings about TV and how Jews emasculated them but wrote this in “fun,” and not “tears,” as I see it today. Jew TV: the weapon that brought down White male, race, USA.)

When you would breastfeed your baby, it would be highlighted as the big event of the whole zoo. When they milk the goats, they advertise, “Come see us milk the goats at 11:00 and the cows at 3:00. Why don’t they advertise, our darling new Mother Sophie the Orangutan is in the Grotto nursing your young at 9:00, 11:00, 1 p.m., 3 p.m, 5, in other words every two hours, if done right. You animals could teach us.

They won’t even let me show cleavage, without locking me up in the toilet, like they did at the Elvis Fantasy Festival. Yes, that toilet is some kind of place. How would you like, Sophie, to be cornered by 4 women in a stinky toilet and block the entrance and won’t let you perform? I do know the baby goats have to drink out of a bottle there. When you milk a goat, the babies can’t feed. The babies can’t enjoy the mother’s nipple.

When I raised German Shepard’s my Queenie had 13 puppies. My children’s father, Mike, would take the runts, and push the older bigger puppies away from the nipple so they could naturally nurse not just out of a bottle. I was one of the runts from my families litter. It was hard for me to get food too, when the older, bigger ones grabbed it all up first. Queenie has 8 nipples, now Sophie don’t get jealous; I had to get over my jealousy too. Tittie envy! It can be devastating. Human females hate me, just cause I show cleavage, I never say bad things or think bad things about them, but they don’t like me. I guess there is a sin called “Thou Shalt Not Show Cleavage”. Sophie, there is a female gorilla at Rainforest Cafe. My titties look like hers only mine are Barbie Doll pink. The doctor was mean and threw me out of his office for nursing baby boy at 5 months and said that if I didn’t put him on solids and formula to get out of his office. I cried a lot. Cried right over my baby as my tears fell on him and splashed his little outfit and face. I ran out of office. Do you cry, Sophie? Do the other orangutans hurt you?

I want to come back on my next life as an orangutan. I want to f uc k like an animal. Do the other orangutans steal all your things? I did see you groom and pick the bugs out of your husband’s hair. It seems like you eat them too. Do you think Charlie Trotter might put those on his gourmet menu? At least, he can’t get fired for coming up with an idea, he is the owner. (adding on 1/28/13, Charlie Trotter from Chicago was #1 chef. He was fired 100+times by other restaurant managers, until he finally bought his own.)

4. I raised my babies always near me like you. I had a cloth Gerry Carrier and wore my babies at my breast like an Indian Papoose. I asked my husband to wear the children too and he was wonderful he listened to me. It was unusual for a man to be so domesticated and yet manly and strong. (I’ve written before how US Marine husband went along with my ideas and didn’t harass me even helped… at least until the 17 year old hussy stole him… I’m adding 1/28/13)

Sophie, I had a beautiful baby buggy that I would take my Royal Sons for rides on nice days. It would put one of these Rolls Royce’s to shame. It was called an English Pram. It was a very large white buggy with colored tires, and leather trim. It was like a convertible and had a leather blanket to break the wind. It had raised handles and I would just parade my sons down the block in the most elegant, and comfortable fashion that existed. My grandfather lived with us and would take me for walks in a buggy. Grandparents are far away from the grandchildren today. We had the little fold up stroller too, but that was just for shopping. I had a rocking chair. Perhaps, I could talk to the zoo and they could buy you a velvet swivel rocking chair like I had when I breastfed my babies. I used to wear a sign on my car that says “Have you Hugged Your Children Today?”

I was one of the first ones to get a GM car seat. Matter of fact, one time when a bumblebee bit my leg at a stoplight I accidentally rammed the car waiting in front lightly. They called the police, but the policeman didn’t give me a ticket cause he knew by my having my baby in that state of the art car seat, I was a good mother.

5. I kept my baby on mother’s milk**only** for 6 months, and then went right to home made baby food from my organic garden in addition to my white breast milk. My baby sat on my lap when he ate. I even think I chewed his food for him and put it in his mouth like the mama birds do. That was only at first. I used to pressure cook the organ meats and mash them up for baby food. They liked that. Children will eat anything and I tried to give them the most nutritious foods available. Only once in a while a sweet treat. I wonder if my children get a hard time like me. We don’t communicate that much, but at least I have those many years of the most satisfying relationship between a mother and child with my baby at my breast. All the feeling and affection and lactating.

It was an unusual feeling when my breasts would tingle sharply when I knew that the baby wanted to nurse. I could feel it now just thinking about it. What a primal feeling!

6. My Royal boys didn’t have teething rings, but had them chew on bones that I knew were good for their teeth. I bought an indoor, smokeless grill for $8.99 on the Internet. I can’t wait to cook nourishingly for the man/men if there is time, Sophie. Good steaks and vegetables, with homemade mayonnaise, tomato concasse. Hot sauce, for “hot” men. I’m really dreaming, I’m probably totally insane. Anyway, when you barbeque outside, people use charcoal. When it is done burning, nothing is left but “clinkers” with the ashes. Sophie, did your mother ever give you an enema, to get rid of your clinkers that the fuel didn’t burn up? My Mama did! She didn’t want “poisons” in her 12 babies.

7. My baby boys were always close to us, even slept with us till they were 3. I would ride my babies on my back with me on all fours just like I was a horse. Or lie on my back and put them on my raised feet and juggle them around like a juggler. Or put them on my knees and lift my leg up and down for a ride. My children didn’t have a lot of toys, like me, I just created fun for them. I know I didn’t have sex, but we lived and thrived. Our marriage lasted longer than all of our friends.

8. I guess I made my rearing of children challenging and welcomed challenging ways to nurture them, because of how I saw my parents raise me under such unusual circumstances. I never thought twice about anything that was good, right or fun for me, my husband and children and was always open to ideas from my husband too. We were a marriage of works not words, Sophie. I see you and your husband don’t talk a lot either.

9. When my son was 3, he was desperately ill with severe ear infections. The doctors couldn’t cure him and the female nurses just told me to put him back to bed and let my baby cry, that I was spoiling him. Those cries, Sophie, from the ear infection were awful, he sounded like in such awful pain. So I found spirituality and he was healed and he never cried again. Second son never cried as a baby, not once. What a strange but wonderful kid. He was always content from day one. They both have genius mentality, or at least they did before the divorce.

From the time of birth on the children were in Sunday School to learn right from wrong. I’m very grateful for that.

10. Back to the grooming. It said at the zoo to groom the Bully, does that mean picking and eating their lice? That is one custom of yours I don’t understand, but truth is stranger than fiction, you should have seen my son and me on the Jenny Jones Show.

11. I took my babies to diaper swim when just a few months old. It was scary them throwing the babies in the water letting them go to the bottom unattended and rise to the top. But if they were ever to be in a pool it could save their lives. Children have no fears, we teach them fears. Just as we teach them fears, we could teach them how to love instead that is the opposite of fear.

12. I saw you play with your young. Did you teach your crazy daughter how to swing and walk on vines? Shouldn’t she be in a bra and you too? Why don’t you wear fig leafs on your genitals? Did they cut your husbands peter off? (neuter) Perhaps we have to do that, but to me they could invent a more humane way for the orangutans. I think I’ll fantasize about making love to an orangutan. I bet it would be wild sex. (Again, book by Nancy Friday, on women’s fantasies, teaches that. I matured and learned to think for myself and know bestiality is wrong. But Jews will push that thru right after they finish getting Homosexual marriages passed to destroy White gene pool. It was already like that in Germany, under Jews. Germans having sex with donkeys on stage. What happened pre-World War II in Germany is now present day USA. And Whites can do nothing but “watch” this reality in USA as if it were just a TV show and others making all our decisions. Added 1/28/13. )

13. I took my children to the Bozo show. He is a clown, but I liked Wizzo the Magic Man better. He had all this make up on and a glitzy costume, he was enchanting. I think I’ll fantasize about having sex with him too. It took 10 years to get those tickets. We used to play that bucket game at home.

I taught my babies all sports. Tennis, Racquetball, swimming, diving, biking, motor biking, repelling mountains, hiking, running, dancing, singing, baseball batting and pitching, hockey, soccer, football, ping pong, darts, pool, horseback riding, even basketball. I taught them, I was with them all the time. Not their father, not television or radio or telephone or Internet, not teachers or babysitters but a “real” mother interacting with her sons. Just like teaching them art firsthand, gardening, getting along with the puppies, valuing education. I put them first to the exclusion of family and friends, and maybe it was extreme, but I don’t regret it. It was unique. We are not communists here in the U.S. we are free to be ourselves as long as we get along. After all this, my husband tried to take the children from me. He used all the money I saved in the bank against me. He tried to get custody. No pain or feeling can adequately be said; maybe you as an animal with feelings could understand my heartbreak, because I think there is little feeling left in the world, when he tried to take my children from me. My baby boys were my little Kings, just like the pharaoh kings. Their peters were even protected with cloth diapers not plastic and naked air to clear up rash if they got one to raise them pure and free. This is how humans reward your job as mother, that and poverty. I guess it must mean I was a “bad” mother. If they call that “bad” what is a “good” mother. Government, husband, lawyers all against me.

I even worked part time to help with bills and was very thrifty. I think it came quite close to losing my children; it was a three-year battle of which the mental anguish was horrifying. I think I almost lost my mind. If I would have lost my mind it would have only been a relief rather than endure that mental anguish. (I think it was then I began “forgetting” or becoming confused. It’s scary for I was young.)

I can’t find words that justify my feelings and thoughts. Hollywood can’t capture or reproduce the pain of having your children ripped from your arms. I wasn’t drinking, no drugs, no alcohol. I was very spiritual and they were disease-free. I know I came from domestic violence, but I never hit the children. They probably wonder and scratch their heads why I think motherhood is a worthless, thankless job. I can only judge by the actions and responses of my fellow human beings toward my actions. I can only interpret these messages on an intelligent level. They kept saying the children need their father even if he is a criminal on death row. I never heard them once argue that they needed their mother. No I guess children don’t need their mother, if so, I would have remembered that argument during the divorce. My payment for all my hard work and slaving was poverty, and hard work. He had his same job, salary and position.

No, Sophie, just as a secret, I loved motherhood, my sons; it was the greatest feeling of my life. Nothing I can say or do can duplicate the simplest life of all. Even though it is not cherished here on earth today, to me it was heavenly. I even immortalized my 3 Kings pictures in oil painting, which I still have today. Even being married, I was happy for the most part. I think if we had more sex, it would have been divine, but still I have no complaints. As I go forward, I think I have a record of 16 years of nurturing “My Three Kings” and without one argument just like the primates never fight, we never fought. Even today I don’t think I can duplicate it, I don’t know how it happened. I don’t think it was me of my own power; it really must have been God with me, if there is any credit if what I did was considered good. I guess by today’s standards it might not be considered good. Even though I received no earthly reward, I never asked for restaurants, or “real” vacations instead of nature camping, or diamonds, or a wardrobe full of clothes and material things, I have a very primitive and deep contentment and satisfaction that what I did was right and maybe a little ahead of its time. Today, my breasts are unusually sensitive from all that sucking every hour on the hour and I hope I can share that pleasure with a man.

Bye Sophie, I wish you, your husband and two children the best. I wish I could have hugged you, so here is a mental hug to you and yours. (There were bars or gulley in the way.)

Lovingly, Barbie Doll, one breastfeeding mother, to another.

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