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So Robert McNamara's dead at ninety fucking three, while some of the best of my generation died at his behest at 19, 20, 21. Others were shuffled off to Canada as "criminals." Others took drugs to escape. Others spent years underground.
You know, fuck Robert McNamara.
My wish for him is that he get exactly what he's got coming to him, karmawise.
Fuck you , Robert McNamara. Don't let me find out where you're buried. I have a few things left to express physically.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."