Mr. Fantasy-aka Field McConnel

Two years ago a twerp on Twitter (he went my the name Morpheus) told me to check out Field McConnel, or Abel Danger’s videos.  He went on to say that Field had military intel that could be found on no other channel.   While I can’t say I enjoyed watching his ridiculous rantings, I did believe that John F. Kennedy, Jr. was calling into the livestream, under the name Juan O’Savin no less.  That is exactly what Mr. McConnel wanted us to believe, that Junior was alive and well, and that he alone would save the day-with a little help from POTUS and the military.

He went on and on about the “Veteran’s Ranch,” which he claimed he had paid for out of the money people were donating to his channel.  Soon the Veteran’s Ranch would become the “Children’s Crusade,” and his sidekick, Dr. Goodvibes was ready and willing to back up anything Field said.  Because of my horrific experience with the New Age and the occult (Reiki treatments, Wayne Dyer, Doreen Virtue) detailed in a previous blog I was leery when the good doctor (chiropractor) brought up the subject of Grounding.  A New Age practice, and one I had been quite familiar with.

Why would a physician use New Age poppycock to help others feel better?  Oh, and there was a special prayer for healing as well.  I have news-we don’t pray to angels and we don’t need a specific prayer to ask Jesus for healing.

Then there was the Zim bond scam.  Field announced almost daily that he would have the 800 number soon, so people could call for an appointment to cash in their worthless Zimbabwe currency-I knew for a fact the RV was a scam, and Field had no problem instructing others on how much to buy, etc.  This resulted in more than a few veterans losing what little they had on purchasing Zim bonds.  You could buy a trillion dollar note! for as little as $200, and he instructed his viewers to take advantage of this fabulous deal-because Mr. Fantasy had a voice in the patriot community, that is exactly what they did.

When I came out on Twitter and claimed people get wise to NESARA/GESARA, I was bullied relentlessly.  As a matter of fact, if you didn’t buy into the Zim or the notion that JFK, Jr. was alive?  You were raked across the coals, lied about and ostracized.  Which brings me to my next point.

Who in the world is Juan O’Savin?  I mean, he sounds like he could be John, but…

That’s correct:  Juan O’Savin is Wayne Wilcott, or Agent W, if you will.  He is back because this particular radio personality has finally realized the Abel Danger aka Field McConnel is nothing if not a sinking ship.






What She Said…

Have you every dry cried?  It is a phenomena I had never experienced until this day.  Apparently, I’ve no tears left to weep-and that is why God led me to Thessalonians.  Paul speaks passionately about the truth and how raw the need for transparency in a fallen world.

I admire the heck out of Roseanne.  She has been through the ringer, and then some.  I think she exudes God’s wisdom and grace.  She means so much to me because she is gutsy, and that is so very rare in today’s pansy ass environment.  How can people not see this?  How could you allow your child to be taught to bow to Allah?  Or learn about the eleventy hundred ways to identify:  God bless them they must be so confused.

Roseanne is right on the money.

This is about the children.

I am joining this community of women, as we are growing in numbers and strength.  In the days and months ahead, may we comfort the mothers who blindly followed the vogue, the trends, the Joneses.

I would much prefer a bitch slap, but hey-you can’t have everything.

And So It Is


This very song had me meditating so deeply, I didn’t hear my poor husband-stranded on the roof-screaming at the top of his lungs and/or banging the hell out of our tin roof to get my attention.  I had a bad feeling when he went up to clean the chimney; I prayed and gave it to the Prince of Peace.  I was so trusting that I didn’t hear the commotion outside or upstairs.  LOL  My poor husband.

I don’t know what broke the trance, but I do know that suddenly I heard this bizarre, antagonizing and hopeless cry out into the wild.  It took me minutes to realize that it was the sound of my husband, screaming like a banshee, from the roof-directly above me.  It seems he had lost hope of survival, as he was stranded on the roof-the ladder his father had just made him did not look like a good way to get back on the ground.  His hair straight up on end (I kid you not) he hoarsely asks for the metal ladder in the garage.  As I run at warp speed to his assistance, he loudly whispers:


Mildly alarmed, I stop in mid-run like a cartoon character and scream:

WHAT DO YOU NEED ME TO DO?????????????

I feel the nudge of hysteria in my very being.  I am close to tears, no, I am crying.  I have a cold, it’s freezing outside, and my husband has become something neither he or I recognize-his head looks freakishly large as he screams back:

Hold the m***f*** ladder my dad made!!!!”

And phew!  He is down, and life returns to normal

The funniest part of this is that I am on top of everything around here.  Like my Irish mother, God bless her soul, I am prone to making a bit of a big deal about the little stuff.  You know, you’re in a mood and the frig door won’t shut, the jeans won’t zip, the scales of justice can be maddening.  But in the event of a real Kleinfeltersville 911?  I am always the last person to be upset, and always the last to know there is an emergency.

While I’m in Twitter jail, I may as well make fun of Acosta in my blog.


You guys are not going to believe this, buttttttt, I had to stop writing two hours ago, as I was interrupted by my golden retriever: he was flailing around to get my attention, and I, as ever, in my own Private Idaho, failed to notice that the house was full, and I mean FULL of smoke.  I ran into the kitchen, howled like a wolf, and ran aimlessly from room to room-forgetting to open windows, unable to find my phone.  I run to the front porch: my husband and son are just over the hill, in a goose blind-they will hear me scream.  If they don’t, surely my in-laws will hear!  This goes absolutely nowhere, and I am unable to be in the house-my throat is raspy, my eyes tearing at whim.  

I find my phone, pray he has it.  He answers.

“The house is full of smoke, get home,” I say, firmly.

“Seriously?,” he is folksy in the moment, “I could have sworn….”

I cut him off.

get home! 

I use my Coxswain voice, he ends the phone call.

And so it was that he got home just in the nick of time.  I looked up and thanked my Lord and Savior, checked on the felines, gave myself a talking to.

There is a lesson here for me, and perhaps for you; the very reason I wrote this blog.  We truly cannot take our eyes off of Jesus-not for even a moment too long.  When we do, heartaches  we had long ago given to God?  They have a way of creeping back up on you at the most inappropriate of times.  You begin to realize you are feeling pain and grief-the loss of a sister, the yearn for your kin, the love we never had a snowball’s chance in hell of giving.

Pain is God’s way of molding us, growing us into better followers of Christ-but we were never meant to carry the burdens alone.  Fix your eyes on Jesus, and keep the dark shadows at bay~