Mc Canns are being framed

@sharongooner wrote:

Frankly Uber you have gone even lower in my estimations by trying to justify what you posted yesterday.

And even lower than that by criticising another member who dared to criticise you!

There was no justification for what you posted yesterday and I for one wont be reading anymore of your replies nor entertaining your warped mind with any replies.

I expected you to apologise for what you did, or at least carry on without trying to make light and fun out of it, not turn it on its head like its somebody elses problem for not understanding it.

Kick this guy off.

YEP !

The Daily Poetry Movement
author: Migratory Bird
This poem is based upon a true story when men were practicing gendercide against women who dared to be independent or ask for equal rights. The poem is written by Margaret Atwood, who is, of course a professor. Margaret has a great deal of herstorical poems and scientific ones as well. Please, if you don’t know about the Salem Witch Trials told from a feminine perspective do learn them. Women were committing suicide by the thousands in Europe to escape terrible “witch hunts.” But some strong women never die! Resist! Refuse!
HALF-HANGED MARY

(“Half-hanged Mary” was Mary Webster, who was accused of witchcraft in the 1680’s in a Puritan town in Massachusetts and hanged from a tree – where, according to one of the several surviving accounts, she was left all night. It is known that when she was cut down she was still alive, since she lived for another fourteen years.)

---

7pm

Rumour was loose in the air
hunting for some neck to land on.
I was milking the cow,
the barn door open to the sunset.

I didn’t feel the aimed word hit
and go in like a soft bullet.
I didn’t feel the smashed flesh
closing over it like water
over a thrown stone.

I was hanged for living alone
for having blue eyes and a sunburned skin,
tattered skirts, few buttons,
a weedy farm in my own name,
and a surefire cure for warts;

Oh yes, and breasts,
and a sweet pear hidden in my body.
Whenever there’s talk of demons
these come in handy.

---

8pm

The rope was an improvisation.
With time they’d have thought of axes.

Up I go like a windfall in reverse,
a blackend apple stuck back onto the tree.

Trussed hands, rag in my mouth,
a flag raised to salute the moon,

old bone-faced goddess, old original,
who once took blood in return for food.

The men of the town stalk homeward,
excited by their show of hate,

their own evil turned inside out like a glove,
and me wearing it.

---

9pm

The bonnets come to stare,
the dark skirts also,
the upturned faces in between,
mouths closed so tight they’re lipless.
I can see down into their eyeholes
and nostrils. I can see their fear.

You were my friend, you too.
I cured your baby, Mrs.,
and flushed yours out of you,
Non-wife, to save your life.

Help me down? You don’t dare.
I might rub off on you,
like soot or gossip. Birds
of a feather burn together,
though as a rule ravens are singular.

In a gathering like this one
the safe place is the background,
pretending you can’t dance,
the safe stance pointing a finger.

I understand. You can’t spare
anything, a hand, a piece of bread, a shawl
against the cold,
a good word. Lord
knows there isn’t much
to go around. You need it all.

---

10pm

Well God, now that I’m up here
with maybe some time to kill
away from the daily
fingerwork, legwork, work
at the hen level,
we can continue our quarrel,
the one about free will.

Is it my choice that I’m dangling
like a turkey’s wattles from his
more then indifferent tree?
If Nature is Your alphabet,
what letter is this rope?

Does my twisting body spell out Grace?
I hurt, therefore I am.
Faith, Charity, and Hope
are three dead angels
falling like meteors or
burning owls across
the profound blank sky of Your face.

---

12 midnight

My throat is taut against the rope
choking off words and air;
I’m reduced to knotted muscle.
Blood bulges in my skull,
my clenched teeth hold it in;
I bite down on despair

Death sits on my shoulder like a crow
waiting for my squeezed beet
of a heart to burst
so he can eat my eyes

or like a judge
muttering about sluts and punishment
and licking his lips

or like a dark angel
insidious in his glossy feathers
whispering to me to be easy
on myself. To breathe out finally.
Trust me, he says, caressing
me. Why suffer?

A temptation, to sink down
into these definitions.
To become a martyr in reverse,
or food, or trash.

To give up my own words for myself,
my own refusals.
To give up knowing.
To give up pain.
To let go.

---

2am

Out of my mouth is comming, at some
distance from me, a thin gnawing sound
which you could confuse with prayer except that
praying is not constrained.

Or is it, Lord?
Maybe it’s more like being strangled
than I once though. Maybe it’s
a gasp for air, prayer.
Did those men at Pentecost
want flames to shoot out of their heads?
Did they ask to be tossed
on the ground, gabbling like holy poultry,
eyeballs bulging?

As mine are, as mine are.
There is only one prayer; it is not
the knees in the clean nightgown
on the hooked rug
I want this, I want that.
Oh far beyond.
Call it Please. Call it Mercy.
Call it Not yet, not yet,
as Heaven threatens to explode
inwards in fire and shredded flesh, and the angels caw.

---

3am

wind seethes in the leaves around
me the tree exude night
birds night birds yell inside
my ears like stabbed hearts my heart
stutters in my fluttering cloth
body I dangle with strength
going out of me the wind seethes
in my body tattering
the words I clench
my fists hold No
talisman or silver disc my lungs
flail as if drowning I call
on you as witness I did
no crime I was born I have borne I
bear I will be born this is
a crime I will not
acknowledge leaves and wind
hold onto me
I will not give in

---

6am

Sun comes up, huge and blaring,
no longer a simile for God.
Wrong address. I’ve been out there.

Time is relative, let me tell you
I have lived a millennium.

I would like to say my hair turned white
overnight, but it didn’t.
Instead it was my heart:
bleached out like meat in water.

Also, I’m about three inches taller.
This is what happens when you drift in space
listening to the gospel
of the red-hot stars.
Pinpoints of infinity riddle my brain,
a revelation of deafness.

At the end of my rope
I testify to silence.
Don’t say I’m not grateful.

Most will have only one death.
I will have two.

---

8am

When they came to harvest my corpse
(open your mouth, close your eyes)
cut my body from the rope,

surprise, surprise:
I was still alive.

Tough luck, folks,
I know the law:
you can’t execute me twice
for the same thing. How nice.

I fell to the clover, breathed it in,
and bared my teeth at them
in a filthy grin.
You can imagine how that went over.

Now I only need to look
out at them through my sky-blue eyes.
They see their own ill will
staring then in the forehead
and turn tail

Before, I was not a witch.
But now I am one.

---

Later

My body of skin waxes and wanes
around my true body,
a tender nimbus.
I skitter over the paths and fields
mumbling to myself like crazy,
mouth full of juicy adjectives
and purple berries.
The townsfolk dive headfirst into the bushes
to get out of my way.

My first death orbits my head,
an ambiguous nimbus,
medallion of my ordeal.
No one crosses that circle.

Having been hanged for something
I never said,
I can now say anything I can say.

Holiness gleams on my dirty fingers,
I eat flowers and dung,
two forms of the same thing, I eat mice
and give thanks, blasphemies
gleam and burst in my wake
like lovely bubbles.
I speak in tongues,
my audience is owls.

My audience is God,
because who the hell else could understand me?
Who else has been dead twice?

The words boil out of me,
coil after coil of sinuous possibility.
The cosmos unravels from my mouth,
all fullness, all vacancy.

~Margaret Atwood~

@sharongooner wrote:

Frankly Uber you have gone even lower in my estimations by trying to justify what you posted yesterday.

And even lower than that by criticising another member who dared to criticise you!

There was no justification for what you posted yesterday and I for one wont be reading anymore of your replies nor entertaining your warped mind with any replies.

I expected you to apologise for what you did, or at least carry on without trying to make light and fun out of it, not turn it on its head like its somebody elses problem for not understanding it.

Kick this guy off.

Well fiirstly you dont even know what I did “say” yesterday, you just think you do lol

Secondly, its a message board, all that are posted here are opinions, amd someones opinion of what I did or didnt say yesterday is just that, their opinion and nothing more. It doesnt carry any more or less weight than any other opinion and certainly doesnt then negate any other responses just by being posted lol, talk about delusions of adequacy or what

So as with ANY other post, once posted it is then in the public domain and is open to response to, and criticism by anyone, me included irrespective of what topic its about, what view it expresses and who posted it and also irrespective of how many agree or disagree with the point made, thats what a discussion board is goony

And despite what youre choosing to think I’m not in the slightest bit “justifying” what I posted yesterday, it was just a post and niether needs or doesnt need justification and was removed anyway making it a moot point

But, if people are going to keep whinging and whining about it on a public forum then as with any other post that catches my attention I’ll respond to it which I would do even if the post in question wasnt mine (hint discussion board ;))

And perhaps if anyone who posted had infact acurately re-iterated what was actually said in that post rather than what their limited grasp of the english language led them to think had been said I might then have been bothered to “justify” the post just for the hell of it, but its a whingefest that would even bore me shitless trying to bicker over what you think was said even for me to waste time on

But that aside, I’m not the one “going on about it”, I’m just responding to people who are

And as their “going ons” ARE posted on threads on a board for the purpose of discussing whats posted I cant really see why you a) seem so surprised and b) think I shouldnt respond seeing as you have already said that as long as my responses were within YOUR parameters they wouldnt have been so objectionable lol, do you write your posts with everyone elses acceptability in mind or post your own views eh?

So you carry on whinging about what you think was posted and I will carry on replying re what was actually posted because it will be a cold day in hell before I kiss your ass just because you think you have some moral highground based on nothing more than an emotional response to something that wasnt what you thought it was, and as the post WAS a lighthearted one to begin with I really cant see why my tone should reflect anything else because that WOULD be “justifying” what you think the post was which is why my posts arent “justifying” it in the slightest and why there hasnt been an apology or back track on the matter to the point where apart from the obvious distress it seems to have caused it would actually have been better if the post had been locked rather than deleted (minus the pic obviously) because then you’d find it harder to cling to the delusion that it said what you think it said

@forumhostpb wrote:

Yes BM I agree with you. This whole timeline thing is both vague and constantly being altered or revised.

I think that we can all agree that there was someting in the order of 1 1/2 to 2 hours available time between when the McCanns apparently returned to their apartment and when they were next seen in public (at the bar) by themselves.

It is suggested that it was during this time window, that whatever happened to Maddie happened then.

I read today that one of the forensic tests done on the ‘large’ quantity of Maddie’s hair found in the boot of the hire car was for toxicology (i.e. drugs / poisons etc).

Incidentally I didn’t know that they found her hair as well as ‘body fluids’ in the boot of the car.

They actually picked Maddie and their Twins up at 6pm from the resort Creche. Friends saw them alive and well at 6.40PM. They entered the Resturant at 8.30PM.

This leaves 1hr 50 mins for them to accidently kill their Daughter. To quickly recover from the shocking realisation of what they’d done.
To very quickly concoct their stories, and to bring imaginary Kidnappers into the story, and to decide how they’re going to fool the World, and their Freinds and Family over the coming months.
This still leaves a Dead Body. They’ve gotta now totally wrap Madeliene in binliners or whatever, and tape it all down. Now they’ve gotta get rid of the Body. They rummage up a Shovel from somewhere (not many shovels lying around in any Holiday Apartment I’ve ever been in), and somehow manage to get the Body to the Car without anyone seeing it being transfered to the Car.
Now gotta think of a Spot that would keep out of sight in the meantime (times running out somewhat by this time I’d guess). They find a spot, and dig a Grave, bury the Body, quickly get back into the Car. They’re a bit of a wreck by this time I’d imagine. Drive all the way to their Apartment. Get showered , and ready to go out, and make it to the Resturant by 8.30!

@Bad Manners wrote:

……………In an exclusive interview with the BBC’s Newsnight programme, Sir Alec said there could be a potential problem in assigning a profile to Madeleine given that all other members of her family would have been in the car.

Other members of the family yes, maybe ….. but if the holy & sainted McCann’s story is to be believed, there is no possibility whatsoever that Maddie’s DNA could be in that particular car – as she had been allegedly abducted some three weeks earlier.

This is the nub of the thing isn’t it? If no DNA had been discovered at all, no alleged trace of Maddie in the hire car, then maybe … just maybe … we could all buy into the story of the mystery kidnapper.

As soon as a trace of Maddie was found AFTER she had been apparently abducted … it blew a giant hole through the kidnap theory.

Frankly I have never believed this theory anyway. However much scorn the unofficial McCann defence team pour on their ability to think fast in a short time period and do what I have suggested they did, it is far more unlikely that somehow a mystery kidnapper just happened to select the one apartment where there was an unattended child, take her, and vanish off the face of the earth with her.

Whilst I agree that there is a lot of confusion and disinformation flying around …. it seems really clear to me that the police are following a number of leads all centered on the McCanns and their behaviour before, during and after the alleged abduction.

I remember posting ages ago – right at the start of this saga months ago – that 99% (figuratively speaking) of all crimes of this nature are committed by a family member or close friend/neighbour….. i’e’ somebody who has a close connection to the victim.

It is really really rare that a completely uninvolved stranger with no connection whatsoever to the victim turns out to be the perpetrator. “Stranger” (or random if you prefer) crimes of this nature are incredibly difficult to solve precisely for this reason … there being absolutely no connection at all between the perpetrator and the victim.