I recently read the following quote on Hodi’s innocence page. My curiosity got the best of me, and I wanted to read “the Minions” take on the latest ruling made by “SometimesAJudge Stephens” I wasn’t disappointed in my expectations that anything written by “the Minions” would be ludicrous!

Team Jodi writes:

“The reality is, and as we all know, this was never a DP case to begin with… so the DP has never even been “on the table” to start with. The Addams family magically turned it into one based on their ability to effortlessly piss away several million dollars of AZ tax payers money. And right now — aside from their faux fund raising activities (which appear to have paid “big dividends”) — they are no further forward in their phoney attempt to get “Justice” for their dead & abusive pedophile black sheep. And they never will.
Fact. Not fiction.”

My Gramma taught me that “when you point a finger at someone, three point back at you!” Later, my first psychology professor taught me that when someone accuses you of doing exactly what THEY do, it’s called “projection” and my Abnormal Psych professor taught me that Sociopaths “project” all the time! But let’s take a look at “the Minion’s” claims!

“The reality is, and as we all know, this was never a DP case to begin with” FALSE

REALITY: On Oct. 31, 2008: Prosecutors filed a “notice of intent to seek the death penalty”. The prosecution contend Arias planned the attack and killed Alexander in a jealous rage. If that isn’t laying it “on the table”, I don’t know what is! It wasn’t until Seotember, 2010 that Arias FINALLY quit blaming the “Ninjas” and began to claim “self defense! For TWO YEARS she held on to the Ninja story!

“The Addams family magically turned it into one based on their ability to effortlessly piss away several million dollars of AZ tax payers money.” FALSE

REALITY: The ALEXANDER Family has had nothing to do with the expenditures made by the State. Additionally, I am unable to find ANY reports of how much the State has expended for the Prosecution, BUT the frivolous motions brought forth by the Defense Team, the “I’ve got a headache” delays and the “wannabe sexperts” endless, and repetitive testiphony (just to name a VERY FEW DT tactics) have cost the Taxpayers of Arizona in excess of THREE MILLION DOLLARS to DEFEND a female who has LIED at every turn and FINALLY confessed to murdering Mr Alexander! Maricopa County Attorney Bill Montgomery has refused to quote a figure as to how much the Prosecution has cost, citing a court order. So, NO ONE, let alone one of Hodi’s Minions, knows HOW MUCH the TOTAL cost of the trial has been.

“aside from their faux fund raising activities (which appear to have paid “big dividends” FALSE

REALITY: I’ve found it difficult to impossible to independently discover any “fundraising” activities by the TRAVIS Alexander Family. (Thre are fundraisers for the DEFENSE of a “Marissa Alexander”) But…even if there WERE fundraising activities, I certainly COULDNT blame them for doing so! These folks are the family of a VICTIM of an UNUSUALLY cruel murder!

REALITY: On the other hand, flaunting the “Son of Sam Laws”, numerous “fundraising activities” have been operating since the arrest of Arias! It is difficult to MISS or “not be aware of” the sale of Hodi’s TRACINGS, the sale of Hodi Wristbands, the auctioning of her “court” eyeglasses, and her parents feeble, pathetic and rather embarassing plea for money via a YouTube video (which is back up again on the HODI innocence website) “This is the only site that we can PERSONALLY GUARANTEE that the money will be used for Jodi’s appeal!” Rather premature, since she is not yet SENTENCED!

Now, I don’t want to be a cynic…BUT…if I can’t trust a WORD of what HODI SAYS…do you think I should trust a word of what her father is reading off of a paper that Hodi WROTE for him to READ? Uhhhh..no! How good is their “personal guarantee”? What does this “guarantee” guarantee?? Just how does this “guarantee” work? Who has fiduciary responsibility? Where is the transparency? How much has she already collected?

IF you feel like tossing some money away, send it to me! I will “personally guarantee” that it won’t be used for anything except paying rent, telephone, utilities, car payment, car & house insurance, doctor bills, pharmacy bilks, gas in the car (straight into the tank, I don’t keep gas cans in my trunk), dog food, vet bills, credit card bills and household necessities from Costco.!

Or send a Jackson to my friend Kelly, who keeps me from needing anti-depressants by writing such a funny blog!

and finally: “they are no further forward in their phoney attempt to get “Justice” for their dead & abusive pedophile black sheep. And they never will.” FALSE

REALITY: After Judge Stephens’ excellent MASS DENIAL of SEVENTEEN frivolous motions demanding that charges be dropped and the DP withdrawn…I would say that there were SEVENTEEN steps toward their attempt to gain Justice for the cruel, heinous slaughter of Travis Alexander. Arias is a CONVICTED MURDERER! THAT, madam, is a FACT! She has been PROVEN GUILTY, BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT! The accusations of abuse and pedophilia are without merit and without proof! (AND, thanks to Arias, acting as judge, jury and executioner, TRAVIS will NEVER get HIS day in court to refute the charges. And he NEVER will.

This trial cannot end soon enough! Perhaps then, the cockroaches will scurry back into the dark, the vile things crawl back under their rocks, and all the SPESHUL snowflakes who rode the short bus to school will have time to go to therapy! I’m actually hoping that they all develop repetitive stress injuries in that one finger they use to type out the tripe they hallucinate! I want to know what drugs they are doing, so I can stay away from it…it obviously causes brain damage!



Drama Queens — One

Once upon a time, in a land not so far from here was a nice Mom and her Son.  Mom was a sweet old lady who had seen some ugly parts of life and had learned to be self-reliant, she was loving and generous to almost a fault.  She and her adult son were very much alike and able to have discussions about everything in life.  Both were fun-loving and enjoyed spending time together.  They were intelligent, they were “salt-of-the-earth” type folks and both felt great compassion for others less fortunate than themselves.

Together, they had endured physical and emotional abuse throughout their lives, which perhaps made their bond stronger than “normal” parent/child relationships, but the bonds they had formed made them stronger and able to face the trials that arise in life.  Mom was a wealth of good, solid advice…some of which the Son followed, some he didn’t…but she always encouraged him to do what was right for HIM, to listen to the “voice of experience” yet follow his own path.

At the time we pick up on their story, she was 52 and he was 32.  Both were unmarried and self-sufficient, both were emotionally ready to find their “soul-mate”, a “life-partner”, someone to share romantic adventures and build a future..

That summer, while attending a co-workers wedding, Son met Miss Soup…Son was 6’3″, and fashionably thin.  The typical “tall, dark and handsome”…but it never occurred to him that he might be classified as such.  He was drawn to Miss Soup because she was as tall as he was, he liked a woman he could “look in the eyes” while dancing! She wasn’t as “curvy” as he usually was attracted to, but she was fun to be with.  She was only 19, and the attention of a woman so young certainly fed his ego!  He didn’t know at the time that she was only “coming on” to him because she and her gay brother had a bet as to which one of them was going to drag Son off to bed that night (and neither of them knew that Son wasn’t looking for a one night stand, and wouldn’t bed either of them THAT night!)

Miss Soup would eventually “win” the bet, as Son was strictly a “straight” guy…but he had friends of all types, as most Los Angelenos do.  She was attracted to him because he was “older”, had a really nice car, a great job, a nice apartment near the beach…and he was CERTAINLY a viable way to get away from her controlling and STUPID parents who kept talking about CONSEQUENCES!

Miss Soup was finally introduced to Mom…and as wise as Mom was, she didn’t see Miss Soup for the sociopath she was.  As usual, Mom wanted her Son to be happy, so advised him to go slowly, and make sure she really was “the One”.

Mom asked if Son would be happy with a female who never acted very feminine, didn’t know how to cook, didn’t care about the disarray in his apartment, which, while not the best when he lived alone, steadily degenerated from “messy” to “filthy”.  But he assured Mom that “things are different now, Mom…not like they were 40 years ago!”  But, Son had no idea what occupied Soup’s day…she didn’t work, or volunteer in the community, or cook and clean.  Even after she decided that she was going to marry him, she made no attempts to even plan the wedding; she didn’t order invitations, or a cake…waited until the week before the wedding to buy a dress.  Mom suspected that “maybe” Soup’s heart wasn’t devoted to this whole marriage thing…especially when the Bride’s footwear consisted of a pair of white flip-flops…but her son’s happy countenance eased her fears, and she thought it wiser to just say nothing when the minister said “…speak now, or forever hold your peace…”

NEXT: Chapter 2–“I’m homesick, I want to move to Abalama!”

Chapter 2.5–“I HATE my parents, let’s move back to the Beach!”

Chapter 2.7–“The beach us crowded, let’s move to OC!”

Chapter 2.8–“I HATE it here, let’s move to Abalama!”

Chapter 2.9–“I HATE my parents! let’s move back to the Beach!”

Chapter 3.0–“I’m bored!  I want an “open marriage”!”

We return you to our regularly scheduled program “Drama Queens”!

It has been so long since I’ve posted that I’m not sure where to begin (again) nor am I even sure what name I was posting “Drama Queens” under…so I’m thinking I should just start at the beginning…or maybe I should start with the current situation and do “flash backs”? What do you think?

Although EVERYTHING I will relate to you is the PURE UNADULTERATED TRUTH (as I see it!), what little money I have shouldn’t be spent on lawyers trying to defend myself in some asinine “defamation” lawsuit brought forth by a money-grubbing low-life from the Great (but IMAGINARY) State of AB-a-LAM-a.  Also, I want my readers to also remember that ORANGE is NOT the new BLACK, I LOOK sick (well, sicker than usual) in ORANGE, and I look even WORSE in STRIPES, so after reading a chapter or two of “Drama Queens”, you will understand why I have taken the precaution of “changing names to protect the innocent” and saying “This is a work of FICTION!  ANY resemblance to ANY person, LIVING or DEAD is PURELY COINCIDENTAL!” “The author holds exclusive rights to this work, UNauthorized duplication is prohibited.” “This work will (eventually) mention drugs, child abuse, adultery and rock’n’roll, read at your own annoyance.”



My dad was the jury foreman in the Jodi Arias murder trial.

I am betting that a good portion of you don’t know or care but there is sure a sizable piece of America and beyond that knows now who my dad is—which is to say they know his name and they know he had a chance to help execute a criminal. And they know that on his watch, that criminal was not sentenced to die.

That’s where it ends, of course. The knowledge of my dad. That’s all that all but a statistically negligible percentage of the universe knows about my dad. They don’t know that my dad loved his kids or loved baseball or loves cars or loves golf or loves his grandkids or any of a million things. They don’t know that above all his weaknesses, my dad is an honorable man.

And that’s okay. No one needs to know my dad. I think before this all happened, my dad would have liked to be famous. I’m not speaking for him but I’m pretty sure that’s not the case anymore.

Today I read hate mail my dad had gotten. Some person had sent him a threatening message complete with his email address, full name, and phone number (which at the very least means that this guy should retake Hate Mail 101). I also read some comments on an article online about my dad. Surreal. They say my dad was fooled by the defendant, that he was taken with her, that he hated the prosecutor. But what was most interesting to me is how many people say my dad is a media whore.

Let me explain to you how the media works. I am a media whore. I want nothing more than an open mic, a bully pulpit, a captive audience. But no one cares what I have to say, and therefore the media doesn’t care.

But the world (maybe even you, if you are honest) wants to hear about Jodi Arias. Everything, every lurid detail about her. So when my dad showed up at his own home after the mistrial was declared, the major media were there waiting for him. They spent the night in his home. He chose to speak, but if you all didn’t care, no one would have even had a clue who my dad is. It’s poor form to consume media and at the same time complain about its availability.

One last thing, and then I’ll be done, because thinking about how my dad is suffering makes my heart hurt. A jury gets impaneled once or twice in a generation to oversee a trial like this. That means there are one or maybe two people per generation that know what my dad has just gone through. I would love to hear what their thoughts are. I’m sure my dad would like to decompress with them over cocktails. What that group alone would know, though, is that when you are a juror, you are bound by law to be impartial. What you see and what you are *mandated* to consider and not consider is different from what Nancy Grace’s viewership gets to see. They are allowed to foam at the mouth for five months with bloodlust, knowing from day one that the defendant is guilty as sin. But a juror is told to leave emotion and sensationalism at the door so that the defendant can have a fair trial.

You might say, “But Jodi Arias is a psychopath. She doesn’t deserve anything but the hot end of a gun.” You’re allowed to think that. But I hope for your sake that if you’re ever put on trial for something, you have jurors like my dad to hear you out.

I looked at my four year old son today as he was about to fall asleep. He gave me a dreamy, half conscious smile. Genuine, because four year olds always are. I told him I loved him. He said back to me, “I love you, dad.”

At that moment I realized that if I make it to the end of my life and my son can be proud of me, then I will die happy to my very bones.

So here’s my open letter to my dad:

Dad: I love you. And I am proud today, and I am proudest today, that you are my dad! 

Re-blog-written by:

Samirsdad: I know in my heart that your son will one day be as proud of you as you are of your dad! Please tell Dad that many of us thank him for his service to justice, I cannot say that my own decision, if I had been in his shoes would have been any different. I did not envy his difficult position and decision. Thanks for your post and insight!