Now let me paint y’all a picture: Emmie’s long-lost brother hightails it back to the Amish life and Amish clothes after ten years, struttin’ around these streets with delusions of grandeur and untreated psychosis, among other things and smellin’ more like bad karma and day-old sin. Baby, he didn’t just burn bridges, he torched ‘em with napalm, danced on the ashes, and then asked for a ride back across.

When I say this man was not right, I don’t mean he was a little sideways, I mean the gears in his head were clickin’, but nothin’ was catchin’, like an old, hexed windmill. You know the type: smile like a saint, but behind them eyes is a backwoods demon with a crooked grin and a borrowed conscience. He was a soul shed, just a meat skin with dead eyes. I told Emmie, “Boyeee, your brother ain’t worth a busted nickel with his dead eye lookin’ ass, and that’s on Jesus and junebugs.” But, in his defense, I think he experiened some Amish trauma that he never disclosed and just internalized that shit, which made him weirder and more unhinged as time went on. Emmie, being the good person that he is, had to find out the hard way.

Now what does this boy do? He slithers back to the Amish, actin’ like repentance comes with a fucked-up story about a self-driving Duramax and a very bad addiction, claiming the truck drove itself back to his parent’s house. But let me be clear, that ain’t salvation, baby. That’s hide-and-seek, and as many times as he wrecked that summabitch, that truck was barely drivin’ a straight line on a good day. And the Amish? They’ll tuck a sinner under their sweaty tit faster than a tweaker stealin’ your catalytic converter, especially when they’re comin’ back Amish and have one of those miracle stories to pass around. We’ll call it, “Here’s your sign soup.”

And listen, I ain’t one to go throwin’ glitta’ where it don’t shine, but that boy had more sugar in his step than a spellbound squirrel in a pecan tree. We all saw it, even if he didn’t say it. But instead of facing his truth like a grown man with dignity, he went runnin’ to a world where showers are seasonal and emotions get stirred like fuckin’ soup of the week, and Lord knows the Amish be lovin’ some soup! Coffee soup, bean soup, pea soup, cracker soup, chili soup, and the list go on. Personally, I think they just like the word soup, because you can just call it chili like the rest of the free world, but God forbid. They aim to be humble and outstanding at the same fuckin’ grip. You outside, you ain’t outstanding.

Now don’t get me wrong, being gay ain’t no curse. But denyin’ yourself, livin’ a lie, and hurtin’ folks along the way? That’s the real hex. And that’s what he brought with him, a dark cloud and a trail of unpaid bills, broken trust, and possibly the law hot on his rump. Not to mention a heart filled with a smoldering love for one of his own, truly one of his own, a flamboyant Amish, or ex-Amish, depending on the day of the week. Charismatic in his own right, gracing one of those Amish/Ex-Amish shows, tellin’ raw stories and being tricked into signing a contract for gay porn, cause muthafuckas’ don’t be readin’ the fine print. That’s where those sneaky penis in the butt clauses be hidin’, and the Amish (not all, but most), are so green to the worldly ways when they hit these streets, that they are easily duped into contracts where they feel forced to snort booger sugar off the dirty cracks of some out of work carpenter in Florida, a story as old as time. I went to school with a dude who fell into that trap. Granted, he wasn’t Amish, just touched in the head and would do anything for a dolla’, even lickin’ up vomit from the cafeteria lunch table after some unfortunate thousand island on salad bar day event, so maybe it ain’t the same, but still, he was in those low-budget wonders gettin’ ram-rodded by Joe, the hairy back dentist in a poorly orchestrated sex scene with him, some ugly woman and the background music of Milli Vanilli. It’s rough out here for those who don’t read the fine print. Due diligence people!

Now Emmie’s brother, he was a special breed of stupefied, and the king of get rich quick schemes, gettin’ conned out of so much money for inventions he imagined he created, which had been around since the Jetson’s, like the jetpack. Dude thought he created it, so he paid somebody $20,000 to print off some legal lookin’ paperwork and told him (allegedly), that soon he’ll be sittin’ pretty in not one, but TWO, mansions, with pools and he’ll be able to sleep until 10am and just BE. That’s all he aspired to, being rich and famous, without doing any actual work to get him there. He was a boss, and was teaching his son to have that mentality. When I was watching him one day, I told him to do something and he said he was a boss, so he was the one who gave orders and not took them. So, I said, I’m a degenerate, I’m the one who puts foots in ass and not receive them, so he got up and put his shoes on. That’s called *gentle parenting. *😁

Honey, let me paint you a picture, or put ya’ on game about him, the Amish and the whole mentality of this cult beast. Since 2018, we’ve did a lot of shit for him, with truckin’ our asses to Pennsylvania every time he called with a sob story and somebody done did him wrong, and he’s broke. It was exhausting and I told Emmie, look, he is a grown man, and I realize helpin’ family out is what we’re told we should do, but at some point, family be damned, he shouldn’t be havin’ that many problems and if he does, why is he always the victim? The Amish don’t have the mentality of everybody winning. They must think there is not enough success, money, and clout to go around and if somebody around them is doing better, they try every way in the world to shut it down. This is so cringe. They don’t mind takin’ somebody’s money, but they don’t want somebody to have more than them, and Emmie is a prime example. He was doin’ well, and everybody had their hand out, skimming his bank accounts, beggin’ for money they never paid back, tools they never returned, and never helped him when he needed it, but they still did everything they could to make his life harder, and it’s not isolated, they be doin’ the most.

Now this man, his brother, lawd have mercy, he wasn’t just kissed by the lightning, he got slapped, body-slammed, and yeeted clean off a two-story roof like the devil himself said, “Not today, fool.” Landed head first, like a dropped watermelon at a county fair, right on his already empty noggin’, and somehow crawled out of that mess with two fewer toes and the same busted logic he went in with, maybe worse. I started callin’ him Ocho, seemed fittin’.

Now you’d think a man who lived through a literal lightning bolt and a neck-breaking fall would wake up grateful, changed, humble, reborn, maybe! Shoot, I know people who found Jesus after stubbin’ their toe on a coffee table, but not this walkin’ warning label. No sir, this man got meaner. Nastier. Dumber. Like all the common sense got evicted right outta’ his skull, not to mention how his sense of entitlement got even worse. Like, I’m hurt, so now let me scheme on as many people as I can to get as much out of this situation as I possibly can. Don’t even get me started on how he berated the nurses and doctors at the hospital, they were ready and willin’ to boot his ass from that hospital and KDBar them doors! Take ya’ gangrene havin’ ass on outta’ here and don’t come back! I think that was on the discharge papers. 🔥

All he could talk about was that shiny ol’ lawsuit. That million-dollar mirage he thought was gonna’ fix all his problems, I guess he didn’t think about the facts, like, if you’re high as a kite, maybe you shouldn’t be on somebody’s roof with metal objects near power lines. Baby, he talked about that settlement like it was the second comin’ of Christ, and he even promised me a new Lexus, but I’m still waitin’ on that. He did get me a goldendoodle from a puppy mill in Maryland, cause’ I was mad he was a lazy, triflin’ fuck and told him don’t come back without a dog! Problem is, even if he did get the money, he’d burn through that check faster than a Pentecostal preacher in a liquor store.

When somebody is already a selfish prick and does more takin’ than giving, money will never change anybody for the better, and as far as money goes, he only spent on himself, with everybody else, he was tighter than a tick on a hound’s dick. Hell, he got scammed out of more money than a lot of people make in a year, he always justified it as an investment in himself. Maybe he was plannin’ to use some of that money to fund his own adaptation of a sausage party, because with enough money, you can live how you want and do what you want, a sentiment that he expressed many a time, but comin’ from somebody that only had a girlfriend briefly, got a son like Mary got Jesus, because I don’t see how, well, none of my business, and she was on Rumspringa, and quickly went back to live the Amish way after knowin’ her now “baby daddy.” All I know is, no matter how much scrilla’ you have burnin’ a hole in your tight pants pocket, if your secret thoughts are about your charismatic cousin who had a mass TikTok following, gave kissin’ cousin vibes, and my gaydar was going off like the police on a donut run. No matter how much money you have, fantasizing about passionate love with your family member for a pork fest is not sexy, it’s Deliverance meets Amish vibes. I can smell that movie from here, and it’s burnt!

Let me tell you, after all we did for him, all the kindness, all the patience, all the damn sandwiches… I think that man returned the favor maybe three times, and always with a side of manipulation and bucket barrel of delusion. He was as generous as a broke raccoon guarding trash, at least with us, but these schemin’ strangers like those in Amway, or random invention people, honey, he’d write a check for them like the crack of his ass was the ready-teller swiper. There’s also him receiving letters and havin’ correspondence with Emmie’s baby mama, as he watched him suffer with the news that his daughters were molested. Betrayal to these people is a no-brainer, and he never mentioned it. Not to mention the fact that she was actin’ thirsty as hell, and actin’ thirsty in Amish clothes is so horny peasant.

So now? Where’s he at? Back with the demons who raised him. Back with the same cold-hearted clan who wouldn’t piss on him if his guts were on fire. The same ones who probably prayed he wouldn’t make it off that roof, but when they heard about a possible settlement, they were callin’ the hospital beggin’ him to come to their house. And what did he do? He went runnin’ back like a stray mutt with no collar and a bad attitude, minus the settlement. Broke, busted, strung out like the Meth head my daughter said he was and even I was like, No Way! He just has bad skin and ignorant ways, that does not a Meth head make, but um, actually it does. He was a pain in our ass for a few years, and the source of much dissention, but Emmie felt obligated to help the only brother he had out here in the world. Little did he know, this brother was stabbing him in the back every chance he got, and I told him long ago to cut the fiend loose and let him fend for himself. We all learn things in our own time. His brother didn’t like me, nor me him, and I for one couldn’t be happier with his sad, dusty ass sittin’ back with his wack ass parents and weird sisters like the true chump that he is.

Darlin’, this ain’t just family drama, this is just a regular fucking Tuesday in Amish land, and around here, that means logics on vacation, humility’s extinct, and narcissists like him get a second act like it’s a stage play written in hell.
When he went back, he claimed his Duramax drove him there as he slumbered in a meth induced coma, only to wake up at his parent’s house. Sounds about right, but it also sounds like some low-budget TUBI movie, or as I call it, Amish HBO, because they salivate over a good “miracle” story, leavin’ more room for mystical speculation in this culture. How can so many people be so gullible. I guess that isolation from the outside world and not growing up with possessing critical thinking skills and very few alternative thinking points just allows them to be sucked in by the bullshit, so they treat these delusions like a divine revelation, and not the subjective emotions of a drug addict, hence, makin’ them marks of society. They should have bumper stickers on their buggies that say, “We believe all dreams, they’re a message from God, but only if they involve coming back to the Amish.” So, how can one claim to live by faith and all things God, but regurgitate stories about hexes, signs, and premonitions? Why didn’t they think the devil was driving that truck? They just be trippin’ over tall tales and callin’ them it the will of God.

So, as much as Emmie’s brother wanted to be a ninja and spend 6 months in China for some Ninja associates’ program, he was soft as butta’ and as grimy as an old flea market ratchet set. So, I hope as he sets his 8-toed crusty soul-less ass on his 100-threadcount sheets in his mama’s house wonderin’ where the hell his life took a wrong turn, I hope he thinks about how many people he wronged, how livin’ in his truth is better than schemin’ and pretendin’ and while sittin’ his ass around with a bunch of fakeass Christians who wished him dead or in prison, talkin’ mad shit about the witches and warlocks who fed him, and it’s a shame to waste that life-changing high-voltage ass whoopin’ the universe sent him as a message to change his ways, when instead he chose to be an even bigger dick, kick it with child molesters, and run from his problems, because they will catch up to him. The Amish can’t hide ya’ from every damn thing, including brujeria! Some people just gonna be a spell-bound, soap-dodgin’ demon seed, and most of those at the 661 are just that. Maybe he can utilize that hole his brother made in the shower to watch his mom take a shower like his funky younger pedophile brother did, cause’ in their way of thinkin’, don’t let a good hole go to waste. Or, then again, maybe he is home. Snuggled under his mama’s hot tit, bein’ as triflin’ as the rest of the bunch who claim to drink the holy water, but spit in your face then cry victim, but those life manners cast spells upon themselves, and that is what they’ve done (for the most part), and no amount of their Mexican ketamine will cure it, or reverse it. So, maybe that little brew he drank at our house was the cause’ of his fits. That Louisiana swamp water had him crawlin’ back to the Amish like a cursed possum seekin’ shelter in the snake pit of devils he calls family, now, but when he was out here, he stated he didn’t know who his daddy was. Or mama, one of em’. So, the hexa is real, and they believe in it. I’m convinced the only reason they took him back is ’cause even demons need entertainment.

Since dealin’ with all this Amish mess, which is still crazy to say sometimes, like, who has beef with the Amish. 😂Me, that’s who. But You ever seen someone so spiritually lost that not even a séance would help ’em find their way? That’s them. If there’s a spell to banish willful ignorance, baby, I’m gonna need a double dose and a full moon. Shoot, I might have to ask my missionaries BrunHattie and Shalizar to whip up something extra spicy, you know, just to keep him from stealin’ joy like it’s on clearance. Somethin’ to rid them of the spiritual hypocrisy that could curdle cream. I worked in the prison system for years, and honey, I’ve met demons in there with better manners, and at least they own who they are, unlike these fools. They ride that cloak of holy and righteous mess like a damn buggy with no brakes. Wide open and unapologetic in their fuckery.

And me? I’ll be right here with my red lipstick, my protective charms, and my candle lit. Because some folks wear their demons, and some of us dance with ours under the stars, with boundaries and a plan. So, if you see me butt ass nekked’ howling at the moon with a jar of hogshit, mind ya’ bidness, I’m doin’ important work around here.

There’s a clan of Masts from Pennsylvania and New York that give no shits about makin’ dem babies with the hex of incest, as a matter of fact, it’s a game to see which offspring from the first cousin dingaling’ can have the most inbred clique in the family, and the bishop daddy has no problem whatsoever attempting to pimp his own daughters out. As a matter of fact, one tried to get Emmie under the sheets with his rogue Sally back in the day, but he was already being fucked up by his mother-in-law, ol’ Sarah, the boy-snatcher. Emmie had a friend that was a Mast. There ain’t a lot of different surnames to speak of, so I’m not sure this one was related as closely. Could be. Could be not. Either way, when Emmie left the cult, his best friend turned on him faster than an FBI informant, callin’ him to say he needed to leave his kids alone. He was a piece of shit for leavin’ and he wasn’t their daddy no more. Well, the universe (God if you will), works in mysterious ways, as they say. Same thing make ya’ laugh, make ya’ cry type shit, or as they say, do unto others, blah blah blah, but nothin’ they actually adhere to, because they’re Amish and feel a sense of entitlement, so after he called and said all this, Emmie was feelin’ some type of way, because this had been his best friend, frick’ n frack’ type shit, but very soon afterwards, this man would lose a child in a barn accident when he fell through a hole or somethin’. It’s tragic and sucks for the child, but the Amish are too comfortable interfering with parental alienation and helpin’ to keep a man’s kids from him, which he was reminded of after this happened. Maybe, mind your own business, don’t get caught up in hexes that could have been prevented, and quit enabling these bitchass baby mama’s who are Amish and mad that the dad don’t want them anymore. These women and communities feed nothin’ but hate, lies, and venom into the children, and you’d be surprised how many regular folks who drive for them and act like the Amish are their friends, will help in these felonies. If law enforcement did their job, they’d all be underneath the jail, and rightfully so.

As far as homosexuality goes, the Amish do not condone it (supposedly). Now, they do gay shit, all the time. Molesting a little boy isn’t gay, it’s a 2-week ban, and all’s forgiven in the world, but to have an open and consensual gay relationship, nah, we ain’t doin’ that, and we sure as hell ain’t wavin’ the rainbow flag, that’ll send you straight to the pits of hell, says the bishop.

Trust me though, there are plenty of gay Amish with wives and a plethora of children, who are using secret phones to have secret meetups for a little back door bang-bang, or women who are lookin’ to munch a little carpet on the DL with a baby on the tit. Some people refuse to live who they were born to be, and it’s even worse when they’re in a cult who have normalized sexual abuse but shame you for wanting to just “love” someone that would, *aghast*, make them happy, cause happiness has no place in their misery soup.

There was an Amish man by the name of Eli Stutzman, a gay Amish serial killer, and the father of the boy in the blue pajamas, Danny Stutzman. Eli struggled with his sexuality and secretly indulged in porn, plenty of drugs and his favorite, sadomasochism, which is S & M for those in the back, where, two “consenting” adults beat the shit out of each other, whips, chains, and maybe the occasional electrified feather they use in sexual acts. Somethin’ like that. Not my thing, although I like a good leather suit and a baseball bat, but Emmie ain’t on board, so, there’s that.

Now, Eli Stutzman wasn’t just anybody, he was born in 1950 into a strict Amish community in Ohio, the son of an Amish bishop, no less. So, from the jump, he was expected to be plain, pious, and peaceful, ya’ know, wear the suspenders and following the Ordnung like a good little lamb. But baby, behind those suspenders was a man with demons, and not the kind you pray away.

By the time Eli was a grown man, he’d left the Amish in body but not in baggage. His soul was tangled, and his trail was littered with death, lies, and betrayal, like the devil had hitched a ride in his buggy of evil.

In 1977, Eli’s pregnant wife, Ida, died in a mysterious barn fire. The authorities ruled in accidental, but folks close to this woman said, hell to the nah, and that ruling wasn’t sittin’ with them at all. The fire was suspicious. Eli was evasive, and the details weren’t adding up, or as we say, the math wasn’t mathin’! Now, Gregg Olsen wrote a really great book about it, called The Amish Wife. This fire and his poor wife weren’t the beginning of his massacres, just the beginning where people started to take notice, and it was the beginning of his trail of bodies. Source: Gregg Olsen, The Amish Wife., Abandoned Prayers.

Now, let me spill a lil’ more tea for ya’, it was rumored that ol’ Eli was havin’ one of those, what do you call it, clandestine affairs, with the actual fucking person who made the accidental ruling, Sheriff Frost! This entanglement if you will, raised some eyebrows, especially after his half-ass investigation into this poor woman’s death. As you can see from other cases, there is a pattern in the Amish. These men are dirty, evil bastards, and for some reason, instead of just leaving and divorcing, decide to go full ham and commit murder! Also, there is one thing that Amish are especially cunning at, and that is manipulation. All of em’ are especially good at this. However, the sheriff didn’t want his secrets out on front street, so of course he was gonna’ shut this case down with a quickness. I’m not sure what all went down with the sheriff, so we’ll say allegedly, but Eli didn’t mind scuffin’ up his knees for a quick death certificate and gettin’ him off the hook for killin’ this poor, innocent, and pregnant woman.

Now, after Ida’s death, Eil packed up and left the Amish world behind, takin’ their young son, Danny, with him. Poor baby. But his fucked-up dad wasn’t lookin’ for salvation, he was lookin’ for trouble, and he always found it as he wandered from state to state, livin’ a secret life as a gay man while hidin’ behind his straight, fatherly facade, as many Amish men do. Being gay as I said ain’t the problem, normal people don’t give a flyin’ frog hair about someone’s love interest in that way, but being gay wasn’t Eli’s problem, it was what he did. He was evil and was out on these streets killin’ for sport.

In 1985, a child’s body was found in a Nebraska cornfield on Christmas Eve, wearin’ blue pajamas, no name, not a parent in sight, so the media dubbed him Little Boy Blue, but eventually, he was identified as Danny Stutzman, Eli’s son, who left his baby in a field like roadkill, and he never even reported Danny missing! Just went on about his business like the evil summabitch’ that he was. The townsfolk of Chester rallied together and gave this baby, who was only nine years old, a proper funeral, giving him the name Matthew, meaning “gift of God”. (A&E True Crime Coverage on Eli Stutzman) (Murderpedia)

It wasn’t until two years later when someone who had babysat Danny, happened to read a Reader’s Digest article, who then called authorities and this tip led them to Eli, who was livin’ his sorry ass in Texas at the time. Through dental records, fingerprints and whatever else they used, little Danny was identified. Eli would claim that this baby died of natural causes when they were on a trip from Wyoming to Ohio, and because he was so grief stricken, he left the body in a field for “God to take care of him.” Using that God card as a convenient method of pity. Since three pathologists could never determine what his exact cause of death was, it remained undetermined. So, since they couldn’t decide how he died, Ol’ serial killer Eli, was never charged with murder, but instead, rolled out of court pleading guilty to two misdemeanor charges of abandoning a dead body and concealing a death. Misdemeanors, really? I got more hell than that for a $20 bad check back in the day. He was sentenced to 18-months in prison. To this day, it looks like Danny is still buried in Chester.

Eli didn’t stop with Ida or Danny. In Texas, he had a roommate named Glen Pritchett, a kind man who tried to help him. But Glen turned up dead too, shot execution-style. And who do you think the main suspect was? You guessed it, Eli Stutzman, the evil, HIV carrying, Amish serial killer with no soul. Luckily, for this murder, he was convicted and spent 15 years of the 40-year sentence on locked down. Why let him out after that, who the hell knows, but he was paroled in 2005, which was a damn shame, but like I mentioned earlier about that pesky karma, it catches up to you, and in 2007, Eli was found dead by suicide in his tiny apartment, alone, broken, and haunted. He never confessed to Ida’s death, or his son’s, and he never owned who he was. Like many Amish, including Emmie’s brother, he ran from the truth, and from himself, He used religion as a mask, lies as his tools to feed his devilish manipulation, and love as bait, which is how he lured so many men into his dungeon of hell. Just another product of a world that demands silence over truth, shame over self-acceptance, and control over healing.

Now, I’m not sayin’ all Amish people are monsters, or hidin’ em, but I am sayin’ that when you build a culture around secrecy, shame, and silence, evil knows how to hide. Eli’s parents, Amos and Lizzie, never spoke out that I’ve seen, but it was told that they speculated he had something to do with the deaths of Ida and Danny. I’d say no shit Sherlock, but to me, silence is indifference, and they were only silent because they didn’t want everybody to know they had a gay, murderous son, especially with his dad being a top-dog bishop, and the Amish want things like this to remain a secret.

Eli killed his wife, and no proper investigation was done, and truth be told, even if he didn’t have a relationship with the sheriff, the outcome probably would have been the same, because they don’t treat incidents with the Amish the same as they do regular people. If Eli Stutzman wasn’t Amish, his ass would have been in jail for murder most likely, because none of it made sense and Eli was a known liar, but the Amish always know more than they let on and it was said that his wife had plans to speak with the bishop about something she’d seen or heard about her husband, who may have caught him in the act with the sheriff and it was all a conspiracy, but there are many cases of unsolved and uninvestigated injustice in this cult, many concerning children, but it’s ignored.

Eli grew up Amish, where emotions are buried, they ain’t got time for all that, it’s time to make money. You can’t be gay, hell, they don’t even allow you to do your own five knuckle shuffle, or else you’ll be confessin’ that to the church too. Perverts. Individual identity is a sin, so being a homosexual would surely not be allowed. So many of these folks are born into religion, not righteousness. Eli was a wolf raised among sheep and other wolves, and up until the end, he never embraced who he truly was, hell, maybe he never accepted it as true and carrying that weight of shame and guilt on his shoulders that he took out on innocent people. He was Kafkaesque, or, better yet, his entire culture was, but he internalized their bullshit to the point of madness, and this can turn a quiet voice into a raging lunatic, because not every quiet voice is peaceful. It’s a somber reminder of the shadows that can lurk even in the most devout communities, and in the Amish, it can get darker than their house at nighttime without a coal oil lamp. Scary.

Now, Emmie’s brother? That walking fog of bad energy? Baby, he was a little scared of me and with good reason. Was it ‘cause I called him out when he was being a top-shelf douchebag? Maybe. Or maybe it’s because I keep a few well-loved voodoo dolls tucked away like heirloom pearls, and when life throws me a pile of shady folks and spiritual potholes, I consult my two ride-or-die priestesses: Shalizar and BrunHattie, but at the end of the day, he seemed to be internalizing the same kind of bad spirit demons that Stutzman was dealin’ with, and it’s unsettling. There was no truth to be had from either of them, both rebelled throughout their Amish tenure, and although he was said to have had a nervous breakdown after the death of his wife, he immediately wired his house for electric, stopped farming and shaved his beard, which were all against the Amish rules. He had a string of affairs with gay men, was the suspect or person of interest in other unsolved cases, including David Tyler and Dennis Sleater. Eli was an opportunist, with the eyes of an inbred, the soul of a demon, and the agenda of a psychotic nympho, with his only thing to do was find guys to suck off, lie to, look for a place to crash and get a meal. His last meal was cocaine and a sharp forced injury to the left arm. Odd way to go, and how that would kill a person, I’m not sure, but he was dead, nonetheless.

I’d like to say something about narcissism since I’ve used it, and the word is thrown around quite often and I’ve learned alot in the realm of religious narcissism that has taken me down deep rabbit holes. A narcissist is someone with an inflated sense of self-importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, and a lack of empathy for others. These people usually have low self-esteem and easily bruised. Not every self-centered person is a narcissist, but when someone consistently gaslights, and drains others while playing the victim, well, you are probably dealin’ with a true narcissist.

What I have noticed about the Amish, and many times ex-Amish who haven’t shed that part of their upbringing is, they were raised to be well-versed in manipulation, so they are extremely good at semantic abuse. Now, the Amish are experts at religious narcissism, and when you are attempting to have a conversation with them, they twist words, as a matter of fact, that is their go to for everything, because they’re always going to make it look like they are right and everyone else is wrong. They must always have control, and it’s exhausting. I can see why so many leave the culture and move the fuck away, leavin’ their house, and everything behind, because they’re fuckin’ exhausting to deal with, because they will try and gaslight the shit outta’ you. Not me specifically, but I’ve witnessed it and had my share of court days with his ex, so I’m well versed in her bullshit. Such as when she accused me of showing the kids a sword while they were on a visit. Um, I can’t show them a sword, because I don’t own a sword, to which she replied, well, maybe you sold it. Well, dumbass, that would imply that I owned one in the first place. It goes on and on, and makes you feel like you’re on a roller coaster with a 6-year-old, or better yet, PeeWee Herman. “I know you are but what am I.” type shit. Semantic abuse is common in toxic environments, cults and other rough situations with difficult people. In testimony, she had said “If he had just listened to the Amish everything would be okay.” Control, manipulation, religious manipulation. She was unable to see anything she or the Amish had done wrong, because all she knew was that he left the Amish and if he had just stayed and let them control his life, everything would be okay. Of course, I guess she forgot that the Amish say, wives must submit to their husbands, but I guess that is only if you’re Amish. They use semantic abuse each time they tell a victim that they’re going to hell if they don’t forget their abuser. This is wrong on so many levels, but they have created this environment of controlled isolation and have made the people doubt themselves, not understand right from wrong, or given them a voice. They are controlled, manipulated, isolated, and so many other things until they experience psychosomatic issues due to the mental illness created by the forced interaction with abusers, but men tend to feel that women are inferior to them, even when they leave, and when a woman is not havin’ that life, because it’s 2025 and ain’t nobody got time for that, they tend to act irrational, subdued and immature in how they handle situations. A person shouldn’t feel guilty for setting boundaries, but a person subjecting someone to semantic abuse will do just that, then pout if they don’t get their way. This will weigh on a person after a while, and it’s especially difficult in these cult-like situations where they are made to believe that they are spiritually and morally obligated. It doesn’t help that the Amish are image obsessed. They give 100% fucks about what the neighbor is gonna’ say, what the bishop is gonna’ say, and that is bullshit. When you are in a situation where a person expects blind obedience, tries to make you feel like you’re crazy for having a different opinion, micromanages your life, and demands loyalty when they are manipulating and controlling you, then it’s time to get the hell out! The bishops, and the parents in these hellholes will bring up the scripture about honoring your mother and father, well, that is horseshit. Fresh dumped horseshit for that matter. Why would a person honor a mother and father who hid the sexual abuse of his daughters? Why would a son obey his mother when she said he’d be better off dead if her weren’t Amish. Why should a husband want to take his wife around the men who abused her as a child? They’ll weaponize religion to demand control and suppress rebellion, all while acting like spiritual leaders or martyrs. Also, they’ll label girls as young as 22 as “Old Maids,” because they’ve either decided to not marry, or haven’t found the person they want to have 20 kids with. It’s abuse, pure and simple.

I am not playin’ the semantics game, but then again, if you are in a semantics war with someone and you choose to be silent, they’ll say you’re being difficult. Just do what is right for you, and if the other person don’t like it, I say tough shit.

AMISH WITCHCRAFT….

Brauche or Pow-wow, ever heard of it? That’s what they call their “healing prayers,” herbal potions, and secret incantations. Passed down in hushed tones, often from grandmothers with sharp eyes and even sharper tongues. Scholars like David Kriebel have documented it in books like “Powwowing Among the Pennsylvania Dutch,” and he talks about their blending of Christian prayer with folk magic. Amish magic. They tie things to strings and figure out the sex of the baby. Magic is magic. It’s spellwork in suspenders, but to them, it’s “tradition.”

And don’t let them fool you, they believe in curses, demons, and possession. They think I’m a witch. What, you carry around voodoo dolls and cast spells and that makes you Marie Laveau’s apprentice? I’ll wear that title proudly. However, they’ll bury a lock of your hair in a jar, mutter something in Deitsch, and swear it’s for healin’, but baby, that’s old-world folk magic with a sanctified ribbon tied around it. And yes, sometimes they’ll pray for someone’s destruction under the guise of righteousness. That ain’t tough love. That’s spiritual manipulation wearin’ a straw hat. I have returned the favor, and certain ones within’ the Amish should know, that the things they’ve done have cornered them with a steel fence around them, shunned from the afterworld and forever lockin’ them into a purgatory with the demons, scorned with the Mark of the Beast. I went so far as to put a spell on them that everything they wished on us for evil, would return to them. I was forced to give my father-in-law a hug just to get a beard hair for this, because they were sayin’ my name too much and filing too many false reports with the police. One even stated I was holding my husband hostage. I guess even the police didn’t take them seriously, since we never saw them roll up in the driveway to question me about it.

Ahhh, you might think I shouldn’t say such things, but I believe it to be true and as loud as they are with the shunning, I’m loud with my convictions to say, no, you’re goin’ to hell, so eat shit and die. The ones I speak on, those Amish who talk out the side of their neck knowin’ it’s not true, and continue to live in a way that their only protection is in numbers, surrounded by other dirty Amish just like themselves, such as those in Keytesville, Missouri, New Wilmington, Pa, Flemingsburg, Ky, Troupsburg, Ny, Jasper, Ny and the Provo of destruction, Sugar Grove, Pa. There are some true demons walkin’ in these communities, many are women, parading themselves around like wounded victims when all the while, they are the devil incarnate. Especially the Blessedatrix!

Don’t let that Blessedatrix fool you with her fresh-baked bread and humble shawl, she’d hex your harvest and blame the devil without chippin’ a nail. What is a Blessedatrix you ask? Well, it’s someone who is fake and barbaric, but wears the cover of the Lord, a woman scorned, forced to live out her days alone because her Amish husband flew the coop, leaving the control behind, sayin’ to himself, why the hell should I be takin’ orders from some other grown man, when my balls have dropped just like his, so I’ll make my own damn decisions and spend every other Sunday gettin’ church from YouTube in my damn underwear and eatin’ somethin’ better than raggedy bean soup that everybody dips their dirty dickbeaters in, spreadin’ Covid cheese to old people and children alike. Nah, fam, not this Sunday. I’d rather slide down a bucket of razor blades and land in a puddle of battery acid than deal with that torture. German gibberish, when they speak Pennsylvania Dutch, which is really just English with a German pig Latin twist. So, yeah, these Hymn Humpers might be a little salty seein’ their ex livin’ their best lives, wonderin’ why they left pedophile island for more worldly things, it’s a mystery Mary. I wonder why. Maybe it’s the false allegations and your lack of shavin’ the beaver that was the ratchet straw that broke the camel’s back, but I can’t be for sure. Maybe it’s the weight of the world that Amish men must carry, as they are forced to work like a beast of burden until their kids are old enough to pay the bills, meanwhile, sex isn’t for pleasure, it’s a numbers game. Gotta’ keep those kids poppin’ out like jiffy, because the bishop has your cycle written on the wall in the phone shack and knows when you’re ovulating, or maybe he comes with you to the doctor to count the rings around your Gina, which tells him how many kids you are capable of spittin’ out. Never know in some of these communities, because they do the most. I’m thinkin’ they should use some of that Magic Shave and burn some of those burdocks off the twat pad because the bishop forbade you to shave or wax and your husband couldn’t find that slopbucket, and who has the time after manual labor and chores to go scavenger huntin’? Come on now, Ida Graber, I don’t think God is gonna’ keep you from the streets of gold if your landing pad is smooth, instead of resembling Congo.

So what does this all mean? It means that no matter how starched your bonnet or how pious your posture, human nature still craves power, protection, and purpose. Some find that in scripture. Some in shadows. Me? I found it in both. I ride the line, part moonlight, part miracle. I don’t chase people’s approval anymore. This is the let them phase of my life.

Let them think what they want. Let them choke on their judgment while I sip my blessed tea. Because I’ve got boundaries now, baby, and magic. And they’re lined in salt, sage, and six feet of “not today, Satan.” So, the Amish can call me a witch, but they need to remember the scripture, and decide which testament, if any, they are livin’ by. Before Jesus, or after.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live” comes straight out of the King James Bible, Exodus 22:18, and honey, that verse has stirred more pots and lit more torches than a bonfire at a county fair, but what does this actually mean?

The phrase “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live” means “You shall not allow a witch to live.” In other words, it’s a death sentence, God’s law, according to the Old Testament, demanded that witches be executed. So, I ask myself, if God made all people in his image, why would he want the witches to be executed? It’s a deep and fair question, and one that theologians have chewed on for centuries. Well, according to many biblical scholars, the key lies in free will.

God made all people with the freedom to choose, to follow Him or not, to use their gifts for good or evil. Just like He made musicians, builders, leaders, and yes… folks who might lean into spiritual or mystical abilities. Some people believe that “witches” (as condemned in the Bible) weren’t born that way but rather chose to seek power or knowledge apart from God, through spells, divination, or speaking with spirits. In that worldview, the problem isn’t the person, but the practice they chose.

So, when God said, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” it wasn’t about their existence, but their rebellion, an active rejection of God’s authority in favor of demonic or occult power. Harsh? Absolutely. But that’s Old Testament law, baby, grace didn’t show up until Jesus walked onto the scene. But wait, what about GRACE? In the New Testament, Jesus didn’t go around killing witches or anyone else, no matter how sinful they were. In fact, He hung out with prostitutes, tax collectors, and people possessed by demons, and healed them, not condemned them. So, let’s get real for a second.

If God wanted every “witch” dead, a whole lot of grandmas who swear by moon cycles, herbs, and intuition would be goners. So maybe-just maybe-God sees the heart, not the label. Some folks who get called witches are just misunderstood, spiritually sensitive, or operatin’ in a way that scares others. All that is Old Testament jazz during a time when spiritual purity was a matter of life and death. But modern scholars often argue that this was cultural and contextual to ancient Israel, where keeping the community spiritually “pure” meant wipin’ out anything that smacked of idol worship or demonic influence. It’s part of the Mosaic Law, not the New Testament teachings of grace and forgiveness that Jesus later emphasized. This takes me to the GRACE portion, and I wonder about the Amish, where is their grace? If they are livin’ holier than thou and pretendin’ to be a light to the world, how can they justify shunning and everything else that they do, which contradicts the bible and all its teachings. What they practice is often Old Testament punishment dressed in New Testament language. It’s grace in name, but not in action. That’s not grace. That’s control.

Shunning, AKA, Meidung, means that someone who has broken the Ordnung (the unwritten community rules) is cut off socially, even from family. You can’t sit with them, eat with them, do business with them, or even offer them a warm “howdy.” You can live next door, but act like they’re invisible. That’s intentional isolation, baby. That ain’t grace, it’s bullying.

They claim this comes from scripture, particularly:

• 1 Corinthians 5:11 – “With such a man do not even eat.”
• Matthew 18:17 – “If he refuses to listen… treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector.”

God’s grace is about forgiveness, mercy, and redemption. You mess up, repent, and he wraps you in love like your grandma’s quilt. The New Testament, where grace became the cornerstone, shows Jesus eating with sinners, touching lepers, and embracing outcasts. So where does that fit with an Amish mother shunning those who have chosen to use the brain God gave them? Or a community exiling someone for marrying an outsider, using a cellphone, or asking too many questions? Bottom line, it don’t, and no matter what spin they put on it, social isolation is what they want to claim is effective, or “tradition” if you will, but it’s just control, wrapped in piety. They want anyone who leaves the culture to fail miserably. They’d rather see them dead or in prison than out in the world, and for some reason the Amish think that all “English” people do is party and screw. That’s all we are doin’ out here in the world. I guess they fail to realize that they are doin’ business out here in the world, so when we take the time to write them a check for services, we’ve interrupted our regularly scheduled program of fuckin’ and partying. Sounds legit. They have sex on the brain. So, let’s call shunning what it is, Spiritual Abuse.

Prayin’ for someone’s destruction is not Godly, it’s spiritual abuse. Plain and simple. Some Amish will say they’re “prayin” for justice” or “God’s will,” but underneath, there’s often bitterness, fear, or pride, and when they pray for someone to “fall apart” or “come crawling back,” they aren’t practicing grace, they’re playing God, and from what I do know about religion and Christianity honey, the Lord does not take kindly to people weaponizing his name to feel superior.

It’s not loving correction, it is emotional manipulation used to maintain order, obedience, and silence. And don’t let the bonnet fool you, it breaks hearts, splits families, and causes deep, lifelong trauma. God’s grace brings people in; shunning pushes them out. Jesus said: “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” (John 8:7) And yet, some Amish throw stones made of silence, shame, and judgment. Meanwhile, Jesus welcomed the woman caught in adultery, called Zacchaeus down from his tree, and told the thief on the cross “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

That’s grace, baby. That’s love. That’s God. The Amish have isolated themselves and have, along the way, developed this selfish, self-centered mindset that they are only responsible for themselves. Yes, the Amish do help each other. In fact, their internal support systems, barn raisings, medical bill sharing, food provisions for community members, are impressive and even beautiful in theory.

But the truth is:

If you’re not Amish, you are not their problem. They rarely help outsiders. They do not regularly contribute to broader charities, and don’t get it twisted, they don’t always help their own. My husband was Amish his entire life until 2018, when he was thrown out for possessing a cellphone. Let me rephrase that, a cellphone they weren’t AWARE that he possessed, because they knew he had one that he owned and used for work, but this one was just one step away from takin’ off the mask and gettin’ WOKE, and this was a no-no. Emmie, or Emanuel (his government name) was an earner. He worked hard from the time he was able to pick up a hammer, until the day he left in August of 2018. He paid into Amish Aid, the so-called insurance the Amish pay into and are supposedly reliant on if something happens to themselves or their property, but this is a lie as well, because it’s not your typical insurance plan that you call on if you actually need and deserve help, oh no honey, it’s a pick and choose situation, and the bishops control this shit too. THEY decide if they want to make the call to get you some help, and the ONE time he called on them, after paying in thousands upon thousands of dollars over his payin’ years, the bishops said, Nah, you make enough money, we ain’t helpin’ you. Keep in mind, he was askin’ for help on a $25,000 medical bill for the birth and almost death of his son and ex-wife, because the Amish sent an unlicensed midwife to assist in the birth and she didn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground, and after the mother of his child had lost a significant amount of blood and they were on the cusp of losing the baby, they sent him to a hospital locally who were “familiar” with the Amish bullshit and didn’t ask any questions, when he had begged to go to the University of Kentucky Medical Center for proper care. So, he was stuck with this enormous bill that they refused to help with. However, later, they would graciously pay off his lazy brother’s property when the hospital put a lien on it for non-payment, because he flat-out refused to even make arrangements for payment when he had a child born (and died) with severe complications. (Due to having genetic markers that both he and his wife possess). This would be the same brother that Emmie carried, took care of, employed and was stabbed in the back once they decided to “shun” him for having a cellphone. Then it was perfectly fine for him to steal from Emmie, take monies he didn’t earn, and treat him the exact opposite of the Jesus they claim to worship. When they shun, then they have fun. As if they weren’t robbin’ him blind anyway behind his back, they use shunning as a means to do it boldly and with no regard. So, the Amish pick and choose who they feel is deservin’, and since Emmie held his own, never asked too many for anything, they basically told him on multiple occasions to go fuck himself. They were so mad that he left because he was their “meal ticket.” Much like welfare, the Amish will rally more for those unwilling to help themselves, throwin’ fraudulent auctions to help some woman who thinks the world owes her somethin’, while takin’ from those who have worked hard to earn theirs. Sounds a little backward, and maybe they should start teachin’ what their preachin’, hardwork and bootstrap for Jesus for all, includin’ the women.

Some might justify this by saying they “stay separate from the world” (based on Romans 12:2 or 2 Corinthians 6:17), but that’s not a full or fair reading of Jesus’ teachings. Christ didn’t say “love only your group.” He said love your neighbor as yourself, and didn’t define that neighbor by dress code, religion, or last name. They will move into communities and ask their neighbor to put a phone in their name, but for the use of the AMISH. Yes, many if not most of these “phone shacks” are in the name of the neighbors, because they have this distorted view that they can have a phone as long as it is somebody’s elses’ name. Much like ridin’ in cars. You ain’t worldly in the passenger seat, it’s only if you’re drivin’ the car. Psycho. I think if cars were around in Jesus’s day, he woulda’ been happy in a dune buggy and not an Amish buggy, crossin’ those sand-dunes like a carpenter boss, gettin’ to the next blind healin’ and construction site. Beats the hell outta’ of thin sandals on hot sand. Work smarter, not harder.

• That many are trapped in legalism over love.
• That some are more loyal to tradition than truth.
• That they’ve built a system so focused on control, they’ve forgotten compassion.

Everything about the Amish is about control, not grace, not biblical, and not love. Many Amish families expect their children to turn over their wages, especially in more conservative orders. Can you imagine graduating 8th grade, then headin’ straight to a grown person’s job, but for free. At the end of the week thinkin’ you can pay a little bill, buy a little somethin’ somethin’, you instead never see a nickel of that money, because it goes to your momma and daddy, so they can ball out. Um, no. Hell, in my experience, my kid got mine and hers, as is the case for most parents. We’re payin’ the bills, buyin’ the shit and savin’ for rainy days, while they have a little job and have fun. I know I should have been more diligent about teachin’ responsiblity with money and savin’, but I gave too much and expected too little in return, then you get kids who have very little respect and expect you to continuously give, but it is what it is and at the end of the day, the one thing I hope I instilled was a work ethic, but the Amish aren’t teachin’ a work ethic, they are benefiting off slave labor. That’s financial abuse, plain and simple. Not “training.” Not “discipline.” Not “community values.”
It’s economic control that traps children and makes escape nearly impossible.

So, if the Amish claim to love, honor and trust in the Lord, why do they fear the devil so much? Why do they speak on hell and the devil more than they speak on God? They walk in fear, not just of sin, but of invisible forces they can’t name but clearly believe in.
That’s not peace. That’s spiritual anxiety wrapped in tradition. When someone leaves the Amish, they are immediately told they have a different belief, and most assuredly, they are goin’ to hell. They say that shit with straight conviction, as if they have spoken to the Lord, got the contract and have every right to tell somebody if they have a reserved spot in the Trailer Park of Heaven. They are operating in energy transference, not grace. They practice communion and wine drinkin’, which could be considered a “blessing spell”, they practice rituals, chants, symbolism, alters, so to say they don’t believe in the craft is laughable. Many Amish use herbs for healing, garlic, plantain, mullein, comfrey, etc. That in itself isn’t witchcraft. God did put healin’ in nature.

But when herbs are used with chants, rituals, or secrecy, it edges into powwow or braucherei, folk magic passed down through Germanic-Christian mystical traditions. Some of these: Whisper prayers over wounds or burns. Bury animal bones to “draw out sickness.” Speak “secret words” over infants with colic. They’ll say it’s all “in the name of Jesus” but… it’s not biblical Christianity. It is just folk magic cloaked in faith.
And if they believe God is all-powerful, why turn to whispered charms? True Christianity isn’t fear-based. It’s not “If you leave the church, you’re doomed,” or “If you sin, God’s gonna’ hex you back.”

So, how do the Amish justify it? Short answer, they don’t talk about it. It’s hidden under layer of tradition, fear, and silence.

• They live by fear of being cursed…
• While also practicing small, inherited forms of ritual healing…
• All while claiming to trust God alone.

That’s a contradiction.
And God isn’t a God of confusion; He’s a God of clarity and peace.

So, while the Amish continue to show contradiction in everything they do and force their followers to believe in, they are ridin’ a slippery slope of humanity, showin’ often that they are void of what makes us human, such as humility, empathy, love, compassion, and accountability. They claim to have no room for witchcraft, spells, hexa, or rituals in their lives, when their entire existence is operating on them using rituals, fear, hell, and everything demonic to run their organization. They fear hell more than anything, instead of walkin’ the “brand” they’ve morphed the Amish name into. The bishops have placed themselves in the Lord’s seat, givin’ themselves this arbitrary power of who is worthy of gettin’ to the pearly gates. Alright honey, pull up a chair, ‘cause we’re about to lay this truth down like biscuits on a Sunday mornin’. Let’s normalize stop confessin’ sins to some rogue, entitled fools in some feigned sense of power, like bishops. Who Do You Confess Your Sins To? Straight up? You take it to God first.
Not Brother Jebidiah with his fake holiness and crooked smile, not some bishop sittin’ in a high-back chair pretending he’s holier than the Bible itself. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9 That means your sins don’t need no church stamp of approval to be forgiven. God don’t need no secretary. We aren’t required to confess shit to a room full of bearded judgmental sonsofbitches who think they own the rights to spots in the afterworld, get the fuck outta’ here with all that! Plus, the sins the Amish usually have to confess involve forcin’ themselves on to another person in violent measures that might not be appropriate for them to even ask the victim forgiveness for, and some of the victims involve barnyard animals, so how is the animal forgivin’ them? So, maybe all sins can’t be forgivin’, and since I’m not down with that type of mentality, I’m just bringin’ up the God side because that is how the Amish pretend to roll. Now keep in mind, when I speak, it’s not on all Amish who do these despicable acts. There are nutjobs in every corner and cult hole in the universe, why, I don’t know, but there are. I am more like the Amish in the way that I’d just as soon handle people like that myself, but in a bigger and better, or “more effective” kind of way, and it won’t be some backseat timeout so they can twiddle their dicks and lurk out their next victim, since that is not a fittin’ punishment for rape. That is what you give a child who writes on walls with permanent marker, not sexual violations! Yet, the Amish think that LEAVING is the worst sin of all. Know why? Because they don’t want them kinfolk tellin’ all their family secrets. They don’t want the world to know about them Bennie Yoder’s and YellaHeads of the world who commit vile acts and play big dawg in their every other Sunday service of rituals but confessin’ your sins don’t involve anyone but them and their conscience. That don’t mean dragging yourself in front of a judgmental church circle, and it damn sure don’t mean confessin’ to a bishop who covers up worse sins behind closed doors.

Let’s also set the record straight on confessin’… ‘Cause it sure as hell don’t mean that just because they say God has forgiven you, doesn’t mean you scathe by with no consequences. You murder someone? God might forgive you, but baby, you’re still going to prison. You molest a child? Don’t you dare hide behind a pulpit; justice will find you. You cheat, lie, or destroy trust? God may have mercy, but the people you hurt might not. And that’s fair. Forgiveness ain’t a get-outta-jail-free card; it’s a second chance to get your soul right and start doing better.

Too many churches, especially closed-off ones like the Amish, will:

• Demand you confess to their leaders…
• But tell you not to go to the law if there’s abuse.
• Blame the victims and protect the predators.

That ain’t holy, baby. That’s hellish.
God don’t play favorites, and He don’t play dumb.

So, when the Good Book says we were made in His image honey pie, it don’t mean the Almighty’s struttin’ around heaven in cowboy boots or a bonnet. No ma’am. It means we carry a spark of the divine deep down in our bones, a little slice of heaven stitched into our soul.

We’ve got His creativity when we paint or build or turn a mess into a masterpiece. We’ve got His heart when we choose love over bitterness, grace over gossip, and truth over convenience. We’ve got His fire when we stand up, speak out, and walk through hell with our heads held high, scars and all.

Being made in His image means we were never meant to be basic. We were born with purpose, with power, and with the potential to light this world up like a front porch in July.

So, fix your crown, pour your coffee, and go remind the world who dafuq you are, ’cause Cher, you were made in the image of glory, grit, and grace.

And that’s the tea, blessed and highly favored.