At the protest, I met a wonderful man named David Silver, who told us all a sad story….

Here is a You-Tube where he appears, I’ll try to find more.

So when I heard this story, with all the others around, too, I wept.  I cried because here was a man who loved his son. For no logical reason, the medical people and the state took over and literally killed a five-year-old boy.

So much about what happened to this family was illogical, flat out WRONG.

David told us of how the “doctors” brought out this very sick five-year-old boy, saying, “Here is your son.”  The boy could not stand and his legs buckled under him.  David tried to hold his son. His legs buckled again.

The boy was brain dead and David was not allowed to see his son privately.  No, all was done by police escort.   ARMED police! What?

I remember seeing my dad when he was dying in a nursing home, days before his death.  I remember the quiet that filled that room.  Surely, the moments before a loved one’s death are sacred.  Why was this stolen, intruded upon, trampled…silenced?

Yesterday, I gave David a hug and told him to never stop speaking out.  Please, share his story.

To write about Adam Lanza or the Marathon Bomber, is this the same as yelling “Fire!” in a crowded movie theater?

Apparently, it depends on who you are.  If you are a person with nothing on your record, then go ahead, talk all you want about gun control and young people and society.  You are a “concerned citizen” and you’ve got the right to free speech.  On the other hand, if you have “mental patient” in your history and mention Adam Lanza or the Marathon Bomber, guess what?  It is assumed you are “dangerous.”  I found out yesterday that when I, Julie Greene, a person with a known mental history writes about these young misunderstood people such as Adam Lanza, people get scared.

I have nowhere to turn on this so I am making a stand here.  My heart bleeds for anyone who is MISUNDERSTOOD in our society.  Who is misunderstood?

A lot of people with supposed mental illnesses sure are, because they get their rights taken away in some form.  Every person I know with a “mental illness” diagnosis is oppressed in some way, whether they are aware of this oppression or not. Your rights have already been seriously limited by this diagnosis being on your record.

Many children don’t get listened to and end up misunderstood. We hope we don’t do this, but it happens.

Anyone who has trouble communicating is going to struggle in this world to be understood, because many people around them don’t have the patience to listen.  What about people who have had strokes or have trouble hearing?

What about those who come to this country and haven’t learned English yet?  I blogged recently about what it was like for me to ask for directions in a German-speaking country when I was a young girl.  I was scared in that train station!  Imagine being in a place where you can’t speak the language and you are living there permanently now.  I cannot fathom the daily challenges.  I imagine many folks in this situation end up misunderstood by society. I would hope that this changes for the newcomer after a while.

I think anyone can be misunderstood, including someone with a great job and who is surrounded by loving family.  You’d think this person has it made, but maybe we are all missing the point.  Maybe this person deals with daily back pain and feels yucky all the time as a result.

If we don’t start listening to each other, and hearing what each other is saying, these incidents of violence are going to continue.  These incidents have nothing to do with “mental illness.”  They have everything to do with being misunderstood, misinterpreted, or people just not listening.  The reason “mental illness” gets tied into the picture is due to the gross discrimination in our society.

The ILLNESS does not cause violence.  To say this makes no sense.

It’s possible also that the mismanagement of so-called “mental illness” gets these victims into a vulnerable state.  So you are stuck with a diagnosis and then you end up coerced into taking medication that makes you feel like tearing your hair out.  You are told how much sicker you are and more rights are taken away.   So people who weren’t violent in the first place get mighty pissed off due to being misunderstood and treated with hatred and fear.  I stay away from “treatment” cuz I want to avoid abuse and I sure don’t want to take pills that make me feel yucky.

I retain the right to free speech and I refuse to stop speaking out on this. Speaking out about discrimination is not the same as yelling “Fire!” in a crowded movie theater.  I speak out for the sake of others who have been victims of societal hatred.

I have stated that I refuse to go to places where the requirements consist of, “You can come here, but since you are a mental patient, you must prove that you are attending therapy and taking medication.”  Obviously, I will not show up at such places where I am not free to choose how to live.  Likewise, I refuse to go to places where the requirement is, “You can come here, but you cannot mention Adam Lanza.”  Never mind that rightful citizens are screaming about gun control right now and screaming plenty about Adam and other people that just couldn’t take it anymore.

Hey, I don’t go to movies anyway.  I’ll just stay away, and call it a day.

Are you misunderstood?  My heart bleeds for you.

Another instance of prejudice against me, being treated like I’m a “danger to society,” what’s the REAL reason?

I’m obviously not the “danger to society” in the conventional sense.  I’m not armed and I’m not going to beat up anyone.  You just take one look at me and know that.  I’m only 5’1″ and weigh under 100 pounds.  By default, some little harmless scrawny old lady like me just doesn’t cut it as “armed and dangerous.”

What folks DO fear is my pen.  Only they have an odd way of telling me this.

Because I have this “mental patient” thing on my record, lots of people think they have the right to use it to accuse me of being armed and dangerous or a “danger to self” even though these things aren’t true.

Guess people that are threatened by my pen get very desperate and they resort to making themselves look like incredibly bad fools.

If fools treat an innocent tiny lady like she’s a criminal, a lot folks that are now behind that tiny lady 100% are gonna get pissed.

Mental patient carrying a suspicious-looking bag with a long, round-barreled object inside, looks around nervously.

So I show up someplace where I am known. That is, they know I have been in mental hospitals.  Someplace where they are fearful that folks like us might get “out of control.”  Oh dear.  Maybe act “inappropriately.” People are so touchy, so jumpy seeing someone like me.

I can see it now. They’ve been prepped. That is, a notification has been sent out about “mental health.”  How folks like me are to be seen as possibly “upsetting to children.” So I guess my very presence now is threatening.

So here’s my plan: I act super nervous about the bag.  I shift my eyes around, like I’m looking for “the right moment.”  I touch the bag and act all nervous about it, hold it super tightly, and if I sit, I won’t put it by my side, I’ll hold the bag close to my body, always so I can touch the contents, making sure they’re still inside.

What’s in that bag?  Is it loaded?  What’s she got planned?  Should we call the police before she loses it?

Meanwhile, I act all friendly, sorta normal, smiling nervously.  After all, this is gonna be sensational, right? The moment of truth.

So, to continue with this fiction, they phone the police, who arrive.

Suddenly, I am confronted by those nice guys in uniform.  They give me their usual look of total disdain and disrespect.  Another nut case they have to drag off. Looks like she’s armed.  This is messy indeed.

“Julie, give us that bag.”  Oh, I have no clue what the cops do in these situations.  Do they just drag you in, or do they disarm you first, or are they gonna evacuate first? Evacuate. Yeah.

So, the bag.  And the contents.

I bought it a few days ago.  Or rather, I should buy one, or would buy one if I were really gonna do this.  They aren’t too expensive I hear.

So I take it out of the bag. The cops are holding their breaths.

Or, rather, the cops would more likely want me to hand them the bag so they can remove it themselves. After all, they don’t want it in my hands.

I don’t think I want it in my hands either.  These things bore me.  They can have it. Why was everyone so terrified?  It’s a life-size, realistic-looking dildo.

And now, I get the last laugh.  Wanna be scared of me?  I can play the game, too.

Happy birthday, me.

God Bless the Words

The pen is mighty indeed.  If you are president, you speak to millions every time you give a speech that you have written.  If you are a religious leader, you write a sermon and you get to write whatever you want.  You read aloud to an entire congregation every Sabbath.  Imagine having an entire audience hanging onto your words that frequently. That’s power indeed.  Us writer types would love to have that many opportunities to give readings.  These clergy are community leaders and their pens have clout.

Think of the school playground.  The playground is a microcosm of the world. Think of the big kids and the little kids and the way the little kids get squashed and bullied.  It’s a tough world out there.

Think of my voice. Who am I?  A little kid that gets stepped on.  Not long ago, I worked extremely hard on an MP3 file, a spoken word piece that is posted publicly on the Marathon site.  I worked on that so hard.  I posted links in three places on Facebook and on here and got ZERO feedback.  For all I know, it’s sitting there and no one even bothered to listen to it.  Now a big kid, some popular kid that everyone “likes” can quickly take a photo of their dog (which takes a few seconds to snap) and get ONE HUNDRED “likes” on Facebook, or say something idiotic, and they get 100 “likes” for that and are told just how smart they are.  My status as “born loser” still stands and that ain’t gonna change.

Okay, I accept it though.  Some kids gotta fight harder than others to get their voices heard. Some kids are just born nice-looking and got natural charisma, and others are awkward.  I ended up klutzy. That’s life and I’m a fighter.

So something big happened yesterday.  It was something that told me, “Julie, it’s time.  You gotta say something. Do it. Do it.  Do it.  Even though you are considered a loser.  You can speak up and someone’s gonna read what you write because you DO matter.”

God Bless the Words.  Because I did speak up.  I refuse to watch discrimination and exclusion keep on happening.  I refuse to tune out.  I refuse to sit and be “mindful” just to get by.  I refuse to go to a “support group” where we sit around talking about how to cope with other people’s bigotry. Why “cope”?  I think I’m done with coping.  I want ACTION now.

God Bless the Words.  No matter how small or big, because all words are mighty.

God bless Ann Frank’s diary. She wrote and had no clue what would happen to her words.  God bless the teenage love letter.  God bless the recipe, handed down from generation to generation.

God bless the suicide note.

God bless the seven digits Joe gave me, his phone number written on a little yellow piece of paper handed to me in the smoking room of a psych unit that began a 17-year love relationship.

God bless my words in 1997, that said, “No, this must stop!  Someone is hurting him!” and the abuse stopped. Even though at first, no one listened.

I would not shut up.  I insisted.  I cried out.  I said, “No! Stop!  Make it stop! Tell them to stop!  I am NOT crazy and someone’s got to listen!  He is being abused!”

Of course, I was told, “Julie, you are a mental patient and you need to shut up.  You’re nothing but a loser.  Your behavior is INAPPROPRIATE AND DISRUPTIVE.”

God bless disruption.

God bless babies. Babies cry and fuss are plenty disruptive.  Nobody minds a baby crying but apparently, someone else’s “disruptive behavior” wasn’t okay because they weren’t a cute baby.  In fact, this so-called “disruptive behavior was labeled “unsafe.”

Unsafe?  I feel unsafe hanging around places that have a collective hostile attitude toward people like me.  I don’t like hanging around places where I am feared, as if I’m a criminal.  I dislike feeling unwelcome.  In fact, I think this hostility and snobbery is flat out wrong, especially when that attitude is enforced publicly through newsletters.

God bless my own words.  So I don’t matter and I don’t get to do a public reading once a week and in fact, no one wants to hear anything I have to say. But I wrote a letter.  An e-mail.  No, not to just anyone. To where it matters.  I’m pretty sure it went to the right place and that action will be taken.  And the letter was rather specific.

See ya later, alligators.  I’ll keep you posted.

Love, Julie and Puzzle

Exclusion of mentally ill people from a community in Watertown, MA, and what I did about it on New Year’s Eve

Okay, so I could have been out partying.  But no, I have promised that I will not shut up when it comes to stigma, hatred, and prejudice.  It’s one thing when it happens to me. But when I see it happening to others, I refuse to sit on my butt and do nothing.

As a writer, it’s my OBLIGATION to do something.  It’s my duty to write.  No, I have signed no papers, no oath saying, “I will write.  I will not shut up.”  Doctors sign the Hippocratic Oath saying they will be good doctors.  I have an oath in my heart saying, “I will not shut up.”

My pen is powerful. Even on New Year’s Eve when the rest of the world is out partying and drinking.  Oh boy yes it is.

So I wrote a letter and I’m positive it went to the right authority.  I received a bounceback saying the person was not in the office due to the holiday and would respond January 2nd, so I know my e-mail arrived.

Are you wondering what I am talking about?  And why I took action New Year’s Eve, of all times?  Yesterday I received in my e-mail a newsletter, an actual statement sent out publicly to hundreds of people stating that this particular community organization was not going to be welcoming to folks who were mentally ill.  No, not in those words.  But what I have been seeing over time was a whole string of incidents within that organization that added up very clearly to EXCLUSION of those labeled mentally ill.  The newsletter…it was now too much and I was not going to tolerate this.

Tuning out or dropping out…these were no longer options. Remaining silent was no longer an option.  I’m sure not going to take drugs all day and live my life in a cloud of smoke, which is what many do once they have been turned away.  Turning the other cheek was something I did in the past and I no longer do.  I’m not going to sit around praying that God forgives people for doing these terrible things so that I can live with their deeds.  Hell, no!  I’d much rather take action and DO SOMETHING to stop it! Why sit around praying or saying “Om” and doing nothing all day, thereby allowing discrimination to continue and doing nothing to stop it?

Sure, I’d seen stuff happen.  I saw others being excluded.  I heard statements made publicly.  Not outright statements…no one is going to say in the exact words, “No mentally ill people allowed.”  Of course they won’t cuz that’s darned stupid…it’s 2013 and everyday people won’t stand for what’s obviously not right. But when exclusion is subtle, it works.  Those that aren’t wanted get quietly shut out.

I myself was among the unwanted.  I was excluded.  I knew there were others, but I also knew that I needed to be tactful and there was a time and place for everything.  I told myself I would quietly walk out and not say anything.  Not yet.  But when I saw that a public written statement had been made, this was too much.

I looked online at what policies existed within the organization.  There are some.  I asked myself if I should communicate with others I know about in the organization that I know have a “diagnosis,” and I told myself that since my relationships with these folks isn’t that strong, I won’t. It isn’t like I’m best buddies with these folks.  We are scattered.

Funny, too, I made an attempt a while back to get those of us labeled “mentally ill” within the organization together and organize some sort of coalition…this was rapidly turned down by the leadership.  No organizing.  We with this dx didn’t have a voice…but my argument was that maybe we needed one.  There were many that agreed…but this went nowhere. Excuses were made.  Red tape cited.  Apparently, now that we’ve gotten a direct offensive hit as of yesterday, I was right.  I don’t have a mailing list or a way to communicate with those folks.

My pen is powerful.  I didn’t write to just any ole person.  I wrote to the top.  A higher-up. I wrote an e-mail detailing what I saw and heard and felt in my heart.  I wrote it in terms of my own individual experience and refrained from exaggeration or use of wild adjectives.  The only speculation I did was quite reasonable.  I explained my reasoning. Sometimes, when you aren’t in the room, you can only take a guess at what happened.  You might be wrong.  Yes, I acknowledge this and I know my claims might be denied.  But hey, I think when something’s darned obvious and it’s been heard enough times and enough people have heard it, we all know what the patterns are.

You guys know how I am.  I believe in speaking out but I cannot post the letter here as there are several individuals mentioned besides myself, and I believe the information is too sensitive involving those other people.  If I can figure out how to post it leaving out the sensitive parts, I will.

I’m wondering if I should contact anyone.  I’m sure wondering how others feel right now. Or maybe I should just sit tight.

My pen is mighty.  I did something good, something to change the world yesterday.  I hope my letter does what it intended to do, make a footprint on the world and wake people up at least.  You don’t act with such hatred toward people like me.  It’s not okay, and I refuse to stand by and watch it happen.

Sad story: Link about Adam Lanza

Here’s the link:

I refuse to pass judgement one way or another on this.  To place “fault” or “blame” or state anything at all about “should have” on anyone’s part…no, I will not do this.

I do understand extreme social isolation and what it does to a person.  I do understand that extreme social isolation is generally not the voluntary choice of the isolated person.  It may seem like voluntary choice, but if you truly examine the situation, invariably, it isn’t that person’s choice. Isolation is forced upon the person.

Isolation eats away at you like poison.  It corrodes the soul.  It skews your thinking.  And if your thinking is messed up as a result of something you didn’t in fact choose voluntarily, is that really “illness”? I don’t think so.

Let’s not be so quick to “diagnose.”  Or judge.

A suicide attempt is like a blacklist on your medical record and also within your community

So here’s an article I read on suicide:

Guess the writer of the letter to the editor had no clue what it’s like AFTER you make an attempt.  Life sucks afterward cuz you get ostracized.  By the medical community and by the community in which you live, and possibly by your own family.  You might even lose your job.  I guess that’s why people who commit suicide are ultimately likely to commit suicide again, cuz it’s on their record FOR LIFE.

Do you want to live?  Do you want to have a quality life, free of discrimination?

In a word: get that attempt off your record if you expect to survive at all.  If a doctor asks, lie.

Expect to be denied treatment if anyone finds out. I know that’s illegal, but they will all be afraid to treat you due to liability.  So I would suggest lying about the attempt.  When they ask, just say you had no attempts in the past.  You are more likely to not be denied care.

Expect that if you reveal having attempted suicide, your friends will dump you immediately. “Oh, so that’s why you were in the hospital, eh?”  And they’ll never call again.  Just tell them you were going to have your heart checked.  Tell them any stupid thing. Tell them it was cancer so then they will love you a whole lot and put on a benefit walk for you.

So when you go to see your next shrink, if you don’t admit to having made an attempt in the past, you won’t be considered a liability risk. They’re less likely to make up some lie, saying, “My schedule is full,” or some baloney because no way do they want to take you on anyway.

Never mind your community.  Your friends won’t call anymore if they find out.  The whole town will turn its back on you.  You will probably not have that job waiting for you when you get back.  They will make it look legit in some way.  Of course they will.

I have seen this done.  It’s harder now to fire someone for “mental health” or “disability” reasons, so this is what jobs do, both volunteer jobs and paying jobs. The employer or fellow employees or supervisors get together and they decide, “We want her out.”  So they get into their huddle.  The huddle of the inside folks.  You know, the inner circle of folks, the loved ones, the elite, the ones that leave the others out.  They whisper to each other in the huddle. Every workplace has its elite.

Know what they do?  They put on the pressure.  She comes back from an absence, maybe she missed a day of work or a meeting, and they tell her, “Maybe your health problems are a bit too much for you right now.”  Or, “Maybe you need some rest. Have you been thinking of taking time off?” So the person gets coerced into stepping down, and she is totally convinced that she has made this decision on her own, and it’s all “for the best,” and she is doing it “for herself,” to “take care of her health.”  But the truth is, the workplace wanted her out.

I’m not talking about a specific person or a specific incident or job, but I’ve seen this done at workplaces and to many people I’ve known. The trick works and workplaces succeed at getting their mentally ill workers out of their hair easily and quickly this way.  Legal?  Unfortunately, it is done.

Unfortunately, my posting this is a double-edged sword.  Assholes can use my idea now that I’ve described it.  On the other hand, I’m guessing that most of my readership does not come to my blog to learn how to get rid their unwanted employees.  Usually, they read my articles based on what the title says.  If you have a suicide attempt on your record, get it off your record.

Or better yet: don’t be an idiot, don’t even TRY suicide.  As for trying and succeeding, I can’t speak for that.  Never been there.  If I had, I wouldn’t be here to write these words.

Does it hurt to be dead?  I have not walked in those shoes.  I have yet to be legally dead.  I don’t think it’s anyone’s right to impose some all-holy belief about death on others.  I can’t speak from experience AT ALL and I’ve never been there, so I won’t say a word.  Don’t let some do-gooder tell you otherwise.

Are you lonely? No, it’s not your fault! Don’t believe those trendy articles that blame the victim!

Have you read all that “positive thinking” stuff out there?  Those magazine articles that say “If you are lonely, it’s your ATTITUDE that’s the problem?”  Oh, please.

I’m going to cut to the quick. (Sometimes I do, often I beat around the bush.)  She didn’t take into account societal prejudice, hatred, bullying, and stigma.  Not one bit.

It very well could be true, that people don’t like you.  Only not for the reasons you think.  It’s not because you’ve got some moral problem or because you are a defective.  YOU DID NOTHING WRONG.  The REAL reason folks don’t like you is because they are jerks.  They gossip.  Let’s face it.  They yap.  Prejudice and stigma.

So look at the schoolyard and tell me what you see.  The fat kid gets teased.  Why?  For no reason.

So society hates poor people, sick people, the veterans our country used and then tried to make excuses to, those it labels “crazy,” anyone with some “other” skin color…oh, anyone different whatsoever.

I remember the peels of laughter and jeering of mean girls in junior high.  Why?  My ankle socks.  Wrong color, wrong length.  The schoolyard is a microcosm of society and it wasn’t my fault that I was too young to shop for my own clothes.  It took months of PR with my mom and countless elastic bands around my shins before finally I found a pair of the “right” socks that didn’t make me the laughing stock of seventh grade.  I wasn’t even fat!  Can you imagine the nightmare the “fat kid” went through?

Don’t tell me to be “politically correct” and not talk about it, cuz we all know there was one “fat kid” in the class that got it bad.  I was a kid that got teased for other reasons.  So I cried for the “retarded kids,” the kids with various injuries, the kids who had some facial scars, the very tall kids, the kids who walked funny and everyone laughed.  I cried for the kids that had trouble in gym class cuz they got laughed at and I wanted to say, STOP!

That’s our society now, and we’re grownups now.  Do people grow up on the inside?  Naw, folks gossip. That’s the adult way that they tease, the grownup version of teasing the kids that are different.

Gossip takes on different forms and it’s often disguised.  Your medical record, of course, contains gossip, stuff that isn’t scientific, but opinion based on no scientific measurement or data.  This stuff gets spread around like wildfire.

Then there are the patronizing folks that claim they love you, but they don’t.  They tell you, “We care so we spoke of you….” and you notice they yapped some untrue statement about you all over your school or your town or social media or wherever you hang out.  How lovely.  You feel like everyone hates you.

No, I refuse to leave off here and say life totally sucks and the human race sucks so bad that we lonely folks might as well give up.  I’ll tell you why.

It’s not true, first of all, that everyone goes though extreme bad shit.  Most people in our society have never been through extreme social isolation.

Okay, so imagine the writer at the writer’s retreat.  Alone in a cabin for a month with no one around.  He knows he has loving family waiting for him when he’s done writing that novel.  Friends, family, a spouse, kids, his teaching job.  Solitude is awesome for writers.

Now imagine having no idea how you ended up in that cabin.  No loving family waiting.  No publisher.  No teaching job.  No way home or out of there.  No end in sight.

I’m here to tell you that you didn’t cause the “cabin in the woods” problem (it’s a metaphor I’m using).  Societal hatred and of course, bad luck caused it.  It’s not because of your “character” or “bad personality.”

Be patient and persistent.  Don’t give up.  I didn’t.  I’m not lonely like I used to be.  To end the extreme loneliness and social isolation, I didn’t have to fake it and pretend to be someone I wasn’t.  I didn’t have to put on a mask.  I didn’t have to be anyone’s slave or take bad happy pills or join a support group or “comply” or pretend or kiss anyone’s ass.  I didn’t have to admit I was “wrong” and fake some confession.  Because I wasn’t wrong!  I was right all along.  And slowly, folks are waking up to that fact.  I do have friends now and I am cherished and loved.  I feel proud of who I am.

Be yourself.  You are wonderful just the way you are.

Things that suck and things that don’t suck

Okay, I’m gonna start off by listing what sucks and then I’m gonna list what doesn’t suck.  I’m doing this so when I’m all done writing this, I can end and feel reasonably decent that there are a few things that don’t suck in the world.

Okay, what sucks….

I am going to stir up the pity pot real good and think up some doozies for ya’ll and make a brilliant list.  Here’s my list:

I guess it sucks when you walk into a store and make a joke with another customer (cuz it’s a little on the hot side, you are waiting in line, so, hey, time to lighten up, right?) and the other customer looks at you like you are from Outer Space.

Now, granted, it’s possible that you’ve cracked this joke in Language X, and this other customer doesn’t speak Language X.  What if the other customer is Language Y-speaking, and you didn’t even know it?

Well, fucker, crack your joke in Language Y instead and that will get you a laugh.

Language barrier aside, people looking at you like you are CRAZY completely sucks, right?

Oh, okay, the other customer was busy with their ipod and had earphones in.  So you go look.  You really look hard. No, no earphones.  Yep, you’ve been profiled.

Why?  Um, because of the little shuffle you have that shows the world you take meds, or because you dare to wear that Suicide Prevention t-shirt, or because you have some very old scars on your arms (it’s summer, remember?) or because you are stupid enough to bring along some STAFF member with you who is “supervising” you and telling you, “No, it’s not appropriate to buy that,” while you are in the store.  Don’t do that. Shopping with staff is a dead giveaway. Don’t go around in a van, either.  You don’t need supervision, baby, if you are an adult.  Or do you just look a little strange like me?

So, okay, getting profiled sucks.  Getting judged before you even get a chance sucks.  Being turned down from the job based on what you look like instead of what your skills are sucks.

Okay, so people look at me and say, “Ugh” and just don’t want to deal with me.  I’m told people pretty much stay away because no one wants to have anything to do with a person with “problems.”  Fine.

To change the subject.

Was it today that Zimmerman got off?  I think it completely sucks anytime anyone gets shot.

Okay, onto what doesn’t suck.

I like that I write.  I love that I write.  I love that I still have this ability.  I love that it makes me NOT INVISIBLE ANYMORE.  DO YOU HEAR ME LOUD AND CLEAR?  I think you did this time.