grindershit poetry dreams and other juicy early Christmas presents for all the good and bad little Florida Keys girls and boys

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psychiatrist interviews
Jerry Weinstock, M.D., Psychiatry, retired, wrote to me about yesterday’s gravity and justice for all … lower Florida Keys shitgrinder rebellion post at
Sloan;   what an ingenious poet——–Jerry
lightning strike
I replied:
Hi, Jerry –
Actually, that was an unusual poetry event for me. Usually, poems just leap out of me, my mind does not engage, the words hit the the paper or my laptop screen without any thoughts other than observing what is coming out of me. The poem yesterday was reverse engineered from a prose narrative, after I was told in a dream to turn the prose into poetry.
The way I was told to do that was, I was on a golf course with several people, one of whom was County Commissioner David Rice. We were on a tee. My turn to tee-off came, and I took a swipe at my ball with a 3-wood, it must have been a short hole, or the fairway was tight and accuracy was premium. Alas, I hooked the drive wildly to the left. Meaning, way too much right hand, not nearly enough left hand. I lined up to hit a provisional shot, since the first probably was OBPL (out of bounds probably lost), but I couldn’t get comfortable in my practice swing, it was all screwed up. 
I awoke feeling moderately electrocuted. I take dream corrections in my body, emotions, mind and soul. There is no such thing for me as, “It was only a dream.” Dreams, for me, are far more real than what happens in my so-called waking life. Dreams are where what is really going on is shown to me, to help me make adjustments in my so-called waking life. 
In this case, the 3-wood, 3, is my spirit code for what Christians call The Holy Spirit, the Divine Feminine. The wild hook, too much right hand, meant too much male, too much objective, not enough female, subjective. The area of critical concern was the narrative essay on the grindershit protest at Florida Keys Aqueduct Authority the day before. The essay had too much right hand in it, not enough left hand. The prose narrative had started out mentioning I was inclined to be a poet, but I did not follow through and convert it to verse; I continued the prose narrative. The dream electrocution was the correction (wake up call).
So, I went back to the prose narrative and converted (reverse-engineered) it to verse and posted it at Banks Prevat told me he forwarded it to 100 people in his anti-shitgrinder camp. I made it into a submission to Key West the Newspaper –, which published it in today’s edition. It needed to be verse because I am mechanically retarded and the prose narrative would not have met Naja and Arnaud Girard’s understandably stringent requirements that technical submissions be backed up by scientific evidence. Poetry, however, has its own ways.
I told Banks Prevatt yesterday that it looks to me the sewer money Governor Rick Scott and Tallahassee had given to the Florida Keys had made it easy for the County Commission to use its own local tax-raised sewer money to buy other things, like marinas, fixing up old bridges, etc.
Rick Scott
An interesting article in the Key West Citizen today ( reports Governor Rick Scott (photo above) will release another $50 million to the Keys for sewer projects, mostly above Seven Mile Bridge, but all of the money has to be used on new sewer projects and none of it can be used to pay off debt incurred in earlier sewer projects.Maybe someone who has the Governor’s ear will sent him my article in today’s Key West the Newspaper. Here’s their teaser:


Gravity and Justice For All … Lower Florida Keys Shitgrinder RebellionBY SLOAN BASHINSKY



Aw shit …

This all falls on mechanically retarded me

to try to explain why it it a terrible idea

to use shit grinder pumps in the Cudjoe sewer district

anywhere gravity sewer systems can be used. […full article]


Had early Christmas dinner last night with dear friends in Key Colony Beach, adjacent to Marathon. Wifey told me of a recent miracle she saw happen in front of her very eyes in a south Florida courtroom.
holy stud angel
An angel of the Lord entered the proceedings and made everyone involved live happily ever after. Am not at liberty to publish further details, not a case of public interest. 
Hubby has a PhD from M.I.T., mechanical and chemical engineering, taught there, worked at Oak Ridge a while, worked in private industry for a long while, invented a few things, watches Bill  O’Reilly regularly, detests Barack Obama, but strangely seems to like me okay. Hubby said, unless grinder pumps are industrial grade (bulletproof, so to speak), they are a terrible idea for the Florida Keys. 
cracked egg
Headed home, I offered a ride to a woman with some plastic shopping bags and a walker sitting at the US 1 bus stop in front of CVS and Walgreen’s on Big Pine Key. She said she was going to a woman’s lodging place on Sugarloaf Key. Which Sugarloaf Key? Where the Sugarloaf Lodge is. First things she wanted to talk about was the grinder pump war, sounded terrible, did I now anything about it? I said I’m up to my eyeballs in it, read my post the current at and the posts going back the past few days.
When we reached Sugarloaf Lodge, she wasn’t sure that was the right place. I drove down the road across from Sugarloaf Lodge and stopped a local resident in a pickup, who said he never heard of the women’s lodge, but he just happened to have an I-phone and he found the place’s website and a phone number, which I called as he drove away before I got the address from him. No answer, voicemail, and another number to call. I left a message that I had one of their lost lodgers with me. I called the other number, a person’s number, no answer, voice mail. I left about the same message. It was the right place according to the message on the first number. 
Well, maybe it was the other Sugarloaf Key. So back up US 1 to Mangrove Mama’s, turn right, go down that road toward the burnt out bridge, stop a local resident out for a walk, he never heard of the women’s lodge either, but he told why the bridge was burned out years ago – so bigger drug boats could get into shore there. Back out to Mangrove Mama’s. No, that’s not familiar. By now, I’m wondering what in the hell is going on? 
She had said she got down here 5 days ago, had stayed at the lodge five days. Someone took her up to Big Pine that morning, so she should shop for clothes at the Salvation Army. She had nothing showing where she was staying. She had left the brochure at the lodge. I offered to drive her down to KOTS. No way, Hosea. I sounded put out, I definitely was frustrated. She said she wanted out of the car because of how I was talking to her, I said okay. She asked for the two phone numbers, I wrote them down for her and she got out of the car as I called the lodge back and left another message that I knew not what else to do but leave their guest at Mangrove Mama’s, which would be open a few more hours. I asked for a call back to let me know how it had worked out.
I thought I should go into Mangrove Mama’s and see if they had a computer I could use to get online and look up the women lodge’s website and find a street address. But now I didn’t see the woman. A Key West bus had pulled up at the bus stop. Maybe she was getting on it? I drove on down to Key West wondering what that was all about and if I was going to be stuck by lighting for abandoning her? So far, no lighting, no call back, no answer to what that was all about? – so far.
Dreams last night were delightful ;-), pointed toward lots of fun stuff to cover today.
There is a different post at, which you should be able to reach by clicking on that link today, and by clicking on this link at any time: 
Sloan at Coco's
Sloan Bashinsky

About Sloan

That's what this website is about, also and If you can't get a publisher to take on your wacky musing, you do it yourself.
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