Seizing our new-born infants,
Blighting their lives with pain;
Filling their veins with poison,
Tainting each tender brain

The Anti-Compulsory Vaccination Hymn

Of all the nutty ideas that Nicole and Joe embrace (and they never met much “woo” that they don’t like), their anti-vaccination stance may be the worst.

I am well aware that there is an anti-vax movement in America today. There has been an anti-vax segment of the population pretty much as long as there have been vaccines available, so it’s nothing new. (Read about it at the link to the “hymn” that I quoted.)

click image to link

Nicole wrote a nice little article about her reasons for being anti-vax. The image above links there, so you can go read it if you wish. I’m going to quote from it a bit.

My family sees a Naturopathic Doctor, (Dr, Shelley Bluett), who has the same amount of yrs of education as a MD.

Well, I know a woman who has a doctorate in Rhetoric, which means she has the same amount of years of education as an MD.  That doesn’t make her a medical doctor.

A naturopath is not a medical doctor. She can put “Dr.” in front of her name, but she’s not a medical doctor.

Therefore she received the typical round of antibiotics used to treat her supposed Pneumonia (which was not even cultured or confirmed).

They do not have culture pneumonia to know it’s pneumonia. It has a distinctive sound, something Nicole would know if she bothered to ask or had ever listened to a patient’s chest who had it.

Even when my daughter had chicken pox…she recovered quickly with only about 20 pox total and felt absolutely fine…as if she wasn’t sick at all

How nice for her.  I wonder how many people caught it from the daughter and weren’t so lucky.

complications chicken pox

Both my children are on preventive supplements for when I take out into the public. . .

There is no such thing as a “preventative supplement.”

Being a pro-life Christian I cannot in good conscience inject Human Diploid cells from aborted fetus cells into my children.

You’re lucky, since vaccines do not contain any such thing.

human diploid cells
click image to link

From Steven Novella (a really good guy to follow if you’re interested in science and medicine), we have the above explanation in fairly simply language.

And Nicole goes on and on with this sort of thing, listing all her fears.  Most of them are groundless.  In addition, almost the entirety of her “article” is made up of cut-and-paste stuff, gleaned from anti-vax websites.

Rather than bore you all silly with a step-by-step refutation of her claims, here’s a good article written by a real doctor going through the mythology, point-by-point, complete with lovely linkies.

One of the most important points the man makes in that article is likely to be overlooked by most people, and that’s #16, “I use PubMed to do my vaccine research.” Nicole doesn’t cite PubMed, but she does cite more than a few abstracts.  The problem with abstracts (short summaries of the research) is that they aren’t the whole thing.  They’re intended to help professionals find articles that they wish to peruse, not to provide the average person with definitive research results.

But here’s why Nicole’s position on this subject is both dangerous and irresponsible.

head wound
from Blessed Little Homestead – click image to link

I will write later about the whole idea of treating that wound at home, but the subject here is immunization, not laceration.

Specifically, tetanus.

Nicole’s children have not been vaccinated for anything.  That means they have never had tetanus shots, nor did this child get a booster after this injury.

I’m quite sure Nicole has never seen a case of tetanus.  Most people haven’t. Frankly, most medical professionals haven’t.  I, however, have.

Most of the time, patients came and went and I barely remember their having been there two weeks after the fact, but sometimes a patient was simply memorable.  This lady was one of those.

She was a young woman who walked out her back door one summer day while barefoot. The screen door hit her leg/ankle and cut it.  It wasn’t a scratch.  It was a relatively deep cut.  Not as severe as the child’s head pictured above, but still, a good cut.

She cleaned the wound, bandaged it, and a few days later came to us.

She had tetanus.

clostridium tetani
Clostridium tetani – courtesy CDC

She and I were about the same age.  She was healthy.  She’d had no medical history to speak of, no serious illnesses.  She was simply a healthy young woman who was negligent about preventative medicine—she had never had a tetanus shot—and unlucky when that screen door hit her ankle.

I am now an old woman and I have never forgotten my week with her. She never got to become an old woman, because she died after a week of agony.

I remember that the whole thing so unnerved me that I got some tetanus antitoxin and brought it home and gave Dave the whole series.  Everyone that worked in our ICU unit got booster shots just because we were so freaked out.  The room had to be kept very dark and very quiet. We tiptoed in and out. The least sound or light would cause her to go into seizures.

tetanus patient
Opisthotonos (a type of seizure) seen in a patient with tetanus – photo courtesy CDC

Not everyone dies of tetanus. The majority survive, although the experience is not a pleasant one, and recovery can take a very long time.

However, those who die are chiefly those who were never vaccinated, and most people survive the disease today because most people have had at least the childhood series of shots and have some immunity (hence they don’t get as severe a case as my patient had).

It’s not about a “strong immune system.”  It’s not about a “healthy diet.”  My patient was young, and strong and basically  healthy.  It’s about an anaerobic bacteria, Clostridium tetani, that is present in soil, in dust, and in farm yard manure (like goat and chicken manure).  That bacteria gets into a wound like the head wound pictured above, and burrows down where there is no oxygen and thrives there.  No amount of “strong immune system” or “healthy diet” will do anything to stop it.  And there is no such thing as a “preventative supplement.”  You stop Clostridium tetani by getting a series of vaccinations in your youth and by having booster shots as needed.

I believe strongly that parents who refuse to vaccinate their children should be cited for not doing so.  I also believe that any parent whose un-vaccinated child contracts a preventable disease and dies from it should be charged with manslaughter.

The anti-vax movement has taken on a quasi-religious tone.  It’s rooted in a broader anti-science mentality, and once people embrace that, it’s difficult to dislodge. Evidence doesn’t seem to help particularly because the true believers are only looking to validate their own ideas.


My patient who died was an adult. She was responsible for her own health.  The Naugler children are helpless victims of their own parents’ lunacy, negligence and irresponsibility.


Are You Really There?

Are you really there?
Are you just a dream?
I thought you were in there somewhere, hiding from me,
Hiding from the world.

Nathan Davis, Untitled #2

keyboard warriors

‘Cause talking shit in person is too dangerous.

What follows here are excerpts from a conversation Joe Naugler had with Al Wilson. It’s a very long convo which took place over several weeks. I’ve tried to include the pertinent parts but not the whole thing because of the sheer length.

beginning 1

It began here when Joe sent Al a friend request.  Joe is a peacemaker.  He desires greatly to get to know Al better.

beginning 2

As you can see by the dates, there’s a gap. There is bunch of stuff, back and forth, that I omitted for brevity’s sake, but things began to heat up a bit when Joe made the now-infamous trip to Al’s farm and stopped to take a gander at Al’s daughter.

Please note that Joe says they stopped. This confirms Al’s daughter’s account, but Joe has often contradicted himself, asserting that they only slowed down.

Al 2

Al 3

So Al, in the interest of being up front about the whole thing, and obviously not afraid of meeting Joe in person, suggests that they do just that.  He makes it clear in what he says that Joe cannot bully him.  Joe can’t pull the shit he pulled on the other neighbor over the water because Al is not going to tolerate it.

And Joe insists that he’s a “super friendly guy” but “indifferent.”

We should totally make Joe Naugler Secretary of State.  He’s just got the touch for dealing with a hostile situation.  First, make all sorts of accusations, and then agree to have a meal and discuss stuff.  Super.

First though, he probably needs a good English course since he cannot spell and has trouble with coherent sentences. What in the world is “my god willing way of life”?

But anyway, Joe wants to meet for a meal, on Wednesday.  He’s available then. He’s not available any other time because he’s so busy with his job.

Wait.  No.  Anyway.

Al 1

So, it’s on.  Al suggested it. Joe agreed ’cause he’s a super friendly guy. Detente shall surely follow.

Joe 2

More from Joe, including a valiant attempt to placate Al with an assertion that Joe is only having the conversation out of curiosity.  That’s going to make for solid ground to form an understanding when they meet, I’m sure.

The highlighted part illustrates part of why my husband was concerned about me doing this blog.  Joe thinks this is really nothing, not even worth mentioning (only he mentions it).  But you know what?  If you do a search for my criminal record, or my husband’s criminal record, you know what you will find?


And then comes the little sermonette. Screw your religion, Joe.  The church you claim to believe in doesn’t even want you.

Joe 3

. . . yes, I did call them cunts. . .

And then he has the temerity to say that’s why she became so “vile.”

No wonder he took a plea.

All of which are saved.

Right.  Something like the video of the vehicular assault, showing the neighbor’s daughter clearly admitting that she rammed the Naugler van on purpose for Reasons.

. . . we went to work.

Oddly, we cannot tell.  Why can’t we tell? They’ve been there two years and we can’t tell.

. . . testified to the awesomeness I profess to be.

The poor judge had a headache, I’m sure, confronted with that awesomeness.

Joe 4

So going by somebody’s house, and slowing down (and in Joe’s case, stopping) and having a bit of a look is not a crime.  Glad to know that.  Then quit bitching about people going by the Blessed Little Dump.

I am looking forward a finding common grounds of understanding.

That’s JoeSpeak, of course, but it means he’s going to be there Wednesday for breakfast.


And when Al arrived at the appointed time and at the appointed place, here is what he found.

empty seat

Sometime later, Joe came over to my wall because he found my photo of an injured chicken to be threatening and starting yammering about lawsuits.  During that conversation, all of which is posted here, he made this comment when asked about his no-show.


No. Al didn’t not ask Joe to meet after school at 3 o’clock. He asked him to have breakfast with him on Wednesday at 7:30, the day Joe said he was free to meet with Al.

Al was there.

Joe was not.

I guess it was just too “dangerous” to “talk shit in person,” and Joe finds being a keyboard warrior more to his liking.



During my younger years, when Nathan was busy being born and being a young child, we were very religious.  We attended a church I refer to now as the “Fundy Church From Hell.”  It was one of those fairly common, typical fundamentalist Christian churches, complete with a Christian school where Nathan was educated.


When he was a teenager, we had a bit of an epiphany and left the church.

Just prior to that time, and for a while afterwards, we got some anonymous letters.  There was no internet in those days, so these came via the US mail. Some were postcards.  Some were in envelopes.  The two different types made it fairly obvious that they came from two different people.

We later identified one of them as Dave’s boss (elder of the church) by tracing the typewriter he used to write them to his office. Those just poked general jabs at us. He didn’t like it that Dave grew a beard, for example. His wife totally misinterpreted a remark made by toddler Nathan at a baby shower and told her husband who wrote to us about it.  Dumb stuff. And he later on did it to other people, including other employees, and ultimately lost his job as a result.

The second person was taunting us just prior to us leaving the church and in the immediate aftermath.  You have to understand that leaving the Fundy Church From Hell was just not done.  It was tantamount to spitting in the face of Jesus.  They did not take it well.

We didn’t make a big scene when we left. We just walked out the door one Sunday and never went back, but it was still seen as a threat of some sort, so somebody retaliated with nasty letters.

I didn’t even see most of those, because Dave intercepted them at the mailbox and destroyed them.


We never knew who sent them.

It has been more than 20 years and we still wonder sometimes.  We speculate about it, idly.  There is a list of suspects and I think our letter writer is on The List, but we’ll never know for sure.  However, occasionally, we wonder. And on that list of suspects are some perfectly innocent people.  We just don’t know which ones they are.

That is the nature of anonymity.

It casts suspicion all over the place. You make these mental lists of possible suspects. It affects your relationship with each of those folks. Even when/if you find out who the real culprit is, you’ve already gone through the mental gymnastics of analyzing the character of all the other people on your list and determined that they might have done it, hence their inclusion, and from that point forward, your relationship is tainted.

We didn’t get these for very long. Somebody else left the church and they went after those people instead of us.  And there were only a few of them. But that was enough to come up with The List.

I hate anonymity.

That experience is the reason that I have no fake Facebook profiles. I’ve never made a sock puppet. I’ve gone into the very valid reasons why my husband was a little concerned when this blog went up.

Nicole dismisses that with this.

better be glad

I haven’t ever accused him of any such thing. What I said was that my husband was concerned because it’s a fact that Joe Naugler has a criminal record and served jail time for what Kentucky calls “menacing.”  Nicole might think that means nothing, but to my husband, it means plenty.

Oddly she goes on to post this about three hours later.

tread lightly

I don’t “really get into TV shows” either, and have never watched Breaking Bad.  I didn’t even bother watching this until somebody told me I probably should. So I did, and I got the message, Nicole.

My husband was right, of course, to be at least mildly concerned.

So that’s why I made a half-hearted stab at anonymity. I knew it wouldn’t last and in fact, wanted to end it long before I did, but continued only because I was getting the love letters pretty regularly and didn’t want to stop them. It was a nice collection.

But what happens with anonymity is that because you don’t know who sent the letter, you come up with your own List.  You’re basically blaming everyone on The List for writing the letter.

It’s not fair, of course. Nor is it reasonable. But it’s what happens.

This is the reason that Nicole has a habit of calling anyone who criticizes her a “troll.” There have been so many fake identities and sock puppets that it just turns into a Big List and they are all a collective they. So one fake person says X, and another fake person says Y, and in her mind, every person who is opposed to her in the slightest way is guilty of X and Y.

And of course, she lumps me in as well.  I made The List early on, under my real name (which is the only name they’ve ever had for me because it’s the only name I use).  There were 55 of us on The List.  The Naugler Enemy List.

And she’s been lashing out wildly, flailing around fruitlessly,  trying to take out the people on The List.

And on the other side there is the whole list of Naugler fakes. “Jack Schitt,” for example.

It’s a mess. It drives me crazy. I wish it didn’t exist. I understand why people do it. I know that being taunted because your child died isn’t fun and doesn’t feel good, and I totally get the desire to lash back, and if it takes using a sock puppet to do the lashing, well. . .

I also know that there are very real concerns that equal or exceed my husband’s concern about Joe Naugler’s criminal record. People have families that are vulnerable. They are employed and don’t want trouble at their workplace. The Nauglers have participated or encouraged or condoned that sort of thing right from the start.

It’s an interesting thing to me that Nicole raises holy hell about fake identities on her pages and bans them immediately.

fake trolls


It’s her page, of course, and her right to do so, but what I find sort of fascinating is this fake profile.


I’ll have much more to say about “Charles Smyth” later on, but he’s very much a fake and very much tolerated on Nicole’s pages.

He’s also very much her little sycophant.


Nicole has little conversations with “Charles.”  Nicole is very comfortable with “Charles.”  Too comfortable.

“Charles” functions a bit like a bouncer. “He” rushes to Nicole’s side whenever “he” thinks she is being threatened in some way by somebody who is disagreeing with her and he often does the “TROLL ALERT” thing like he’s this brilliant detective or maybe a Geiger counter.

So some fakes are fine. Others are not fine and are banned.

I strongly suspect the fakes that are fine are the ones that Nicole knows because she knows who the real person is behind them.  That or she is the real person behind them.

And that brings us back full circle.  When you use fakes, you create uncertainty not just about who around you might be guilty of doing a specific deed, but about yourself.  It works both ways.

And that’s why I don’t use fakes.

Nicole dead junkie

I included a copy of Nicole’s one comment (under her real name) here.

Jacob’s comment was denied, after I gave it a little thought, because he is underage.

And no, I don’t have balls, something you’ll just have to take my word about.  Nicole doesn’t either, something the whole world knows because she posts photos of her genitalia during childbirth.

Jacob’s comment put me between a rock and a hard place. If I had approved it, she would have howled and screamed that the resultant conversation was “attacking her underage children.” I knew that if I didn’t approve it, she would also howl. You know, it’s something like President Obama and the Republicans in Congress. I couldn’t do anything “right.”

Suppose there was a town with an average number of banks (dozens, I would presume), and let’s suppose that one of those banks got robbed on a day in July.


And the police came and interviewed the tellers and customers who were in the bank during the robbery and they all said that the guy (it was a man) wore a multi-colored crocheted face mask and was tall and thin.

In August, the same bank got robbed again by a tall, thin robber wearing a multi-colored crocheted face mask.

In September, ditto. And October.

By November, the bank manager and the police (who are admittedly a little slow here) start to see a pattern, so they lay a trap, and lo and behold, a tall, thin guy wearing a multi-colored crocheted face mask comes into the bank in November and tries to rob it.  But our clever cops and bank manager are prepared and catch him.

When they get him to the police station and take his statement, he admits to the attempted robbery, but insists that he didn’t have anything to do with the robberies in the previous four months.  Nothing. He is just plain innocent of them.  It was a different tall, thin man wearing a multi-colored crocheted face mask.

And anyone who suggests that he might be the culprit in all the robberies is “lying.”

You know how Nicole could exonerate herself from all the other “robberies”?  She could tell us who wrote them. She knows, of course.  Tell us the identity of the other tall, thin man wearing a multi-colored badly-crocheted face mask.


nicole confession

So now we know for sure.  Right from the writer’s own keypad.

Nicole Naugler is the author of the love letters.

Just as a reminder, here’s a sample.


Nathan suicide

Nicole Naugler is admitting that she wrote these.

She has never written but one comment on this blog under her own name.  Here it is.

nicole only comment

That comment is not by any stretch “far worse” than what Naomi Thompson has been saying most of today.  Not even close to being “far worse.”

In fact, the only things written to me here that could conceivably be construed as “far worse” than Naomi’s insane ranting are the love letters.  There simply is nothing else, under any name, anywhere.

I probably owe Joe Naugler an apology, because I really thought it was him doing it. Or maybe he and Jacob together.  When all the time it was Nicole, the sweet loving mother of eleven, who lives this back-to-nature come-to-Jesus lifestyle in the “wilderness” of Breckinridge County, Kentucky.

Nah, I don’t think I’ll apologize to Joe. But I do thank you, Nicole, for coming clean on this.  I’m sure your supporters will applaud.

By the way, my skin is fine, but I appreciate the concern.

Musically Inclined


I am not going to link to this, because it involves the children. If you want to find it, you can go to Nicole’s Blessed Little Homestead page and find it.

It’s a video of one of the boys, holding the baby (because we all hold babies while trying to play a musical instrument), and plunking about on their badly, badly out-of-tune piano.

The boy is not “practicing.”  He is plunking about.


I have a whole lot to say about this.

First, the child is not “talented.”  Nobody could possibly tell by that little bit of messing about whether he is musically inclined or not.

Second, he is not an autodidact.  He knows nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And that last paragraph just made me want to beat my head against the wall until it bleeds.

Wanna hear a piano?  Just listen.  In this recording, Nathan is not only playing the piano and doing the vocals. He is also playing the guitar, both lead and bass, and doing all the background vocals. The only tracks on that recording that are not Nathan are the drum tracks (he was a terrible drummer and knew it, so he didn’t even try).

He was not born knowing how to do any of that.

When he was about six years old, his father asked a music professor at our local community college for some advice about music lessons for Nate. The prof told him to wait until Nate was around eight, until we were sure that he not only could count well, but had some sense of basic rhythm, and had some basic math skills down (music is mathematical).  And then to start him with piano lessons.

So we bought a piano. At the time, it was a huge expense for us and something we shopped for diligently.  It was not new, but in good shape. And we had it properly tuned.

nate at piano

There is Nathan with his piano.

He never asked for lessons.  We had no idea whether he had any talent or not. We just provided him with the opportunity to learn.

Our reasoning was that even if he didn’t have any inclination at all, just the rigor required to learn the basics would be good for him. He would have to learn a skill that is quite difficult, involving a lot of fine motor movement, and he would have to practice daily, regularly, to see any progress.

At the same time, he decided that he wanted to play Little League ball. So, we signed him up and I carted him to practice once a week as well.

nate ball

So, he did one hard thing that he asked to do, play ball.  He did another hard thing that he did not ask to do, play piano.

And he’s sitting there, looking cute enough to eat, holding that trophy with the dirty smudge on his ball pants, obviously a champion ball player.  Right?


The trophy is real, but here’s the back story.

Nathan was the worst ball player in the history of the game.  The worst.  Terrible.  He couldn’t run. He never could run.  Even grown, we all laughed at Nathan running. He simply was not coordinated.

One of his friends once said that when Nate was conceived, all the coordination in his body went straight into his hands, with nothing left.

Anyway, he happened to have the world’s finest Little League coach.  The man was simply phenomenal.  He understood little boys.  And he knew Nathan was terrible, but he tolerated him and didn’t laugh at him too much and made the experience pleasant.

One problem was that Nate didn’t understand the game at all. And he didn’t really care. So if you put this kid who didn’t care in the outfield (which is what you do with the really bad players), he would just stare at the sky or examine the grass and daydream the whole game away.

And he couldn’t hit the ball with the bat to save his life. It was painful to watch.

But, remember, all this time, while he was struggling with ball playing, he was also practicing piano.  And there he was excelling.  He took to it like he was born to it.  I had to nag and fuss and remind him to practice at first, because it was hard and it didn’t sound great, but he gradually started to enjoy it because he slowly began to make sounds that were actually good.

He transferred the lessons he was learning about perseverance from piano to softball. He began to go outside with a ball and his mitt and throw the ball against the foundation of the basement (in the back of the house, it was a whole story), catch it when it bounced off, or chase it when he didn’t catch it, and do it again. I can still hear that ball hitting the house over and over again. Every day, for a hour or so.

He got his dad to help him with his batting.  Again and again.

And now you want to read about how he improved his game dramatically and it was all because of the piano lessons.

Only he didn’t.

He was still pretty terrible.  Not quite as bad as in the beginning, but basically awful.  And we all knew it. Everyone on the team knew it.

The day came for the championship game of the season.  [This sounds like some made-for-TV movie, but it’s true.] His team was up against some other team for the championship, and that was not thanks to Nathan at all.  He had just sort of tagged along for the ride.

And it was down to the wire. The bottom of the ninth inning, the score tied with three boys on base, and two outs, and Nathan came up to bat.

I wanted to die right there in the stands.  His dad wasn’t there that day (something that still brings him to tears if we talk about it) because he had to work and Nathan was so terrible at ball that it didn’t matter.

But I could hear the groans from the parents all around me. “Oh, no,” one father said. “There’s the game and the trophy, gone,” said another parent. My heart sank to my toes.

Nathan got up to bat.

To my complete shock, that kid hit a home run.

It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw, I think. The parents all around me went bananas. I had already gone into hysterics. And the coach, a great big bear of a man, ran out onto the field and picked Nate up and hugged him and then the team put him on their shoulders and carried him off the field.

It was the only game where Nathan knew who won when we got in the car.

To be very fair, his home run was due in large part to complete incompetency on the part of the outfielders on the other team (they had their own players of Nathan’s caliber), but nobody cared about that.

So what does this have to do with anything?

In neither case was Nathan an autodidact.  Nicole loves that word, but it’s bullshit. In both ball playing and music, he had teachers.  Like gardening, there is no reason to begin with nothing and have to build a foundation all over again.  It’s quite possible to get instruction and skip the mistakes of others.

Back then, we had no idea that our son would become a career musician. Not a single clue.  We knew for certain in a very short time that he was not going to be a professional ball player, though.

However, we gave him the opportunity to try things.  Those are just two of the things. How in the world are you supposed to know what you’re good at if you never have the chance to even try stuff?  How can you figure out that you are really good with the guitar if you only have a cheap piece of shit guitar from someplace like Walmart that won’t stay in tune no matter what you do and that is very hard to play (good musical instruments are far easier to play than cheap ones).

Yes, you will find the occasional story of the child prodigy who climbed onto Grandma’s piano stool and began composing sonatas, but that’s not the typical story. The more common story is one like Nate’s.

If we had waited for him to ask for music lessons, he’d have been sunk before he started.  Skill at the piano involves fine muscles in the hands. You have to develop muscle memory.  It doesn’t happen fast, and the learning time lengthens the older you get.  Start piano lessons after you’re about 20 and you’re never going to progress like you will if you start when you’re young.

It was obvious, as I’ve said, that Nathan was not an athlete.  He learned to swim (his dad taught him when he was very young) and he could stay afloat and get out of deep water and he had fun swimming, but he just wasn’t going to excel at it.  He was never interested in basketball or track (I laugh thinking of Nathan even attempting to run track).

So he played ball for a couple of years and quit.  The championship game that day was the high point of his short athletic career.

And if he’d been terrible at music, that’s what would have happened there as well.  We wouldn’t have forced him to take lessons for a very long time if he’d showed no ability at all.

But of course, that’s not what happened.

The Naugler children are never going to even know if they have any ability at much of anything. Their art supplies are cheap pottery crap that you paint practically by number. Their piano might not even be salvageable, it’s so far out of key. I suspect any other musical instruments they have been exposed to are cheap.  And they cannot get lessons at anything without asking specifically. And they don’t ask because they know perfectly well Nicole and Joe can’t afford lessons of any sort.

But you know what?  They’d get that sort of exposure if they went to public school, at little to no cost to Joe and Nicole.


Are the Naugler children also looking for a promised land that they will never, ever find?goodNo. Just no.


Originally, I put my comments about the love letter I got after posting this article in the comment section, but I’m going to move it up here. Lots of people don’t read comments, and I want to be sure this is seen.

You can see the original comment, which I approved, in the comment section below.

At first, I assumed that like the name and email address which are clearly fake, the IP address was probably a proxy, so I didn’t even bother to look it up.  But when I did, I found this:


The IP address is Naugler-related, either Nicole, or Joe, or their eldest son, Jacob (whose name I am using because he inserted himself into all this with his parents’ blessing).

It really doesn’t matter which of the three it is.

If it’s one of the parents, well, fuck you back.

If it’s Jacob or one of the older children, here’s an example of “unschooling” at its best.

In addition, Nicole posted this a few hours later.

bitter old woman

First, thank you, Nicole. The child was in fact “tinkering” on the piano. He was not playing it. 

Second, I had and still do not have any idea that the kid is autistic. For one thing, you don’t vaccinate your kids, so how in the world could they be autistic? [Don’t go ballistic. That was a joke, and borrowed for all that.]  Furthermore, how would you know such a thing?  You don’t take them to doctors, they don’t go to school.  Did the state come up with that when they were in foster care?  If so, isn’t the state evil?  How can you trust what they say?

Third, I have not ever and do not ever report you, Nicole, on Facebook for anything at all.  I don’t interact with you ever.  The only comments I have ever made (unless I am missing something) were directly to Joe in conversations where he was actively participating. I have posted a sample of that sort of thing from my own Facebook wall where he sought me out to start a fight.

So I didn’t report your Facebook page for anything.  However, by posting about it and including me in your comments, you are, of course, implying that I did it.

Fourth, I was not “poking fun” at your child. I went to a bunch of trouble to shield your child. I did not link to the video. I blacked out all children’s names. I was criticizing  you.  You are the one who posts videos of your children on a Facebook page that has 45000 potential viewers (and puts them on YouTube at the same time). I’m not pimping out your children. You are. The only thing missing from all this is your kids sitting on the street corner holding tin cups.

Fuck you, Nicole.  With all due respect.

Gardening 101

cole crops

What do you do when you see somebody just totally fucking up? I asked my dairy-farm-manager friend once why he let me keep Frances in a stall at night for a year or longer without telling me that it was the dumbest idea ever.  (Unless the weather is simply brutal, cattle prefer to bed down out in the field. Even in the worst weather, they prefer a run-in shed where they can seek shelter on their own.)  His reply was that some things are better learned on your own. And then he smiled broadly.

So perhaps the Nauglers will one day learn how to garden.

Perhaps they won’t.

But it actually makes me despair to see those kids work hard (and they are the only ones who do around that place) creating the Blessed Little Garden, and know that they are doing it pretty much for naught.

First, my credentials: I have gardened, successfully and not-so-successfully, in four states:  North and South Carolina, Alaska, and Kentucky.

sweet potatoes
Sweet potatoes newly dug and cleaned from our garden in Kentucky.
canned stuff
When we grow more than we can eat fresh, I really do preserve the excess. This is just one set of shelves in the basement. There is another identical to it.

Those four states have widely diverse climates, and climate changes everything.


For example, this is the back of our house in Alaska. The dining room is the one with all the windows, and jutting out onto the deck is the greenhouse. Greenhouses are used oddly in Alaska.  I used to open up ours around tax day (April 15), as soon as the temperature in the greenhouse would reliably stay close to freezing or above. Then I could start seeds in there on heat mats and under some supplemental light.

But I used the greenhouse all summer long. Where we lived, tomatoes and cucumbers simply could not be grown outside. They didn’t die.  They would actually grow, some.  But they refused to set fruit. It was not warm enough at night. So I grew them in the greenhouse. The place looked like a jungle by August.

The garden there was located where the photographer is standing, off the deck in the side yard.  It was all  waist-high raised beds. There had been an in-ground garden in the back yard the previous owners had built, but I had little luck with it, due to the growth of the trees in the yard and the resultant shade.  Rather than cutting down trees, we just opted to move it.

And even with those high raised beds (to warm the soil earlier in the spring), even with clear plastic covers (again, to warm the soil), I still had to grow things like green beans and squash under clear plastic hoops. It was just not warm enough if I didn’t.

What I did not have to do was cover the cole crops.

cole crops definition

Ever see those gigantic vegetables being shown at the Alaska State Fair?  Like this?

alaska cabbage

Ever wonder how in the world they do that?

First, they use hybrid varieties. Second, they start the seed indoors well before breakup.  Third, there is almost 24-hour-per-day sunlight in Alaska during the summer. The giant veggies are almost all cole crops.  Coles just get bigger and bigger with increased daylight. Fourth, it is relatively cool in Alaska in the summertime.  No July and August steamy hot days.

And that’s the deal here. Alaska has cool summers (relatively speaking). Cole crops like it cool.

I didn’t have to grow mine (which did not get that big but were more than healthy) under tunnels because they like it cool.

In the Lower 48, the opposite problem occurs.  The soil and the air get too warm for the coles.  This can happen rapidly in the spring/summer, or we can have a longer, cooler spring and it happens slowly. In the first situation, all the cool weather crops bolt and go all to hell. In the second, they do great but the beans and tomatoes limp along.

This is the reason that a whole lot of people (including me) grow cole crops in the fall, not the spring.

Here are my cabbages (on the left, turnip greens on the right) from a couple of years ago here in Kentucky.


That was taken probably in September. I started the cabbage plants from seed in August indoors where I could monitor the babies and keep them cooler, then set them out when the evenings weren’t so hot. The hoop material is bridal veil tulle.  It’s cheap, very wide and keeps insects off, but allows rain and sunshine in.

We harvested all the greens it was possible to consume (and they were clean with leaves intact and no bugs) and about twenty cabbages, from which I made a mountain of kraut.

The nice thing about this is that as the plants mature, the days get cooler and cooler. They also get shorter, but not enough to significantly affect growth.

Most people I know around here grow coles and greens in the fall.

Gardening Rule #1:  When setting out to learn to garden, look around you.  Find a neighbor who actually has a garden in your area and ask them some questions. (Do not come back later when they aren’t home, take their water, and leave the hose running.  It’s bad form.)  Plant what they plant.  They’ve already made mistakes, and you can avoid those.

It is not necessary to experiment alone and have to make every single mistake every gardener on earth has made to learn to garden. Even you hate everyone around you, and none of your neighbors will speak to you because you call their family members names and accuse them falsely of assault, you can still find this stuff out by following blogs or videos of people who actually know what in the hell they are doing.

Here is what is most likely going to happen.

Nicole’s lettuce will probably come up. They might actually harvest a little of it provided it doesn’t get too warm quickly. If it warms up a lot, the lettuce will be there but it’ll be bitter.

Spinach might do okay, but that little raised bed will grow enough for a garnish.


If she did (or the children did, since they do all the work) what I think, and planted seeds for cabbage and broccoli in the ground directly (I see no plants), they are more than likely doomed.  There is a reason that garden centers sell those flats of started plants.  It’s to get a jump on the season so the plants can grow while it’s still cool.

If I’m completely wrong and a miracle occurs and everything in that wee little plot grows gangbusters, there will be enough for one meal.  Maybe.

There is nothing wrong with being a rank amateur.  I was born to city parents. I never grew anything in my life until after I was married.  I planted my first garden in 1971, and have had one for many of the years following, except for the few years we spent in an RV.  I’ve made every mistake imaginable.

But what is deplorable is to make no progress whatever toward learning anything, year after year, while simultaneously setting yourself up as some sort of guru or expert.

blog to teach
click image to link

And it’s even more deplorable to extract so much labor from children who never see anything positive in return for doing that.  What those “unschooled” children are learning is “don’t bother with a garden, nothing ever grows.”

It would be one thing if Nicole ever followed up on anything, so we could all learn from her mistakes.  But she doesn’t.  There are photos of outhouse/shower combos being started, but then we never see that again unless later on we get some off-hand comment that the project was abandoned.

There are photos of rabbits (poor, poor rabbits) who are never seen again.

There are photos of about a dozen roosters, fate unknown.

There are gardens with no produce.

And there are detailed photos of shit-containing buckets but not one of any compost bin(s).

They are about as “self-sustaining” as my little dog.


als garden
Al Wilson built this raised bed garden for his wife. It holds moisture better than most raised beds because of the size and mass of the concrete infrastructure. Photo used with permission.
als garden
Same garden. Photo taken January 4, 2016. The covers fold down to protect the greens from the cold. And I ate a delicious salad made from those greens. Photo used with permission.

Fat Ass

I hate fat shaming.  I really hate it.

But I hate racism worse.

I have watched the Trump campaign with growing horror and I’ve come to the conclusion that being silent in the face of overt racism is a very bad thing to do.  I will not be silent.

Keep that in mind.

Three percent meme

I guess she just doesn’t see it.  Here are the problems with this.

First, the man on the left is not “poor and oppressed.”  The man on the left is starving to death. We can have a conversation about why he’s starving to death if you like, but that’s what is happening to him.

Being poor does not equate with being skinny.  Lots of very poor people are very heavy and lots of very wealthy people are painfully thin.

Second, the photo on the right is of women marching in protest in Baltimore.  Who says they are poor?  For all we know, they are college students, or lawyers, or community organizers getting geared up to run for the Presidency.

So, this is an offensive meme. It’s racist, it’s nasty, and it’s inaccurate in the extreme.

It’s also ironic.

It was posted by a woman who lived here (and isn’t doing much better now).


She says, of course, that they lived like this on purpose.  But her own commentary puts the lie to that.  This is sort of thing Nicole dreams about.

island seating

She will never be able to afford anything even approaching that in her lifetime, of course.  Hell, I can’t afford that.  It’s probably a $50,000 kitchen.

So, the Nauglers are poor. Not just a little bit poor. Really, really poor. As in counting pennies poor.  Can’t pay the bills poor. Except the phone bill. They seem to manage that one okay.

So why does Joe look like this?

on phone

NOTE:  My question above is rhetorical.  I do not want to see a bunch of comments about Joe’s weight, or anyone else’s weight.  Please.

Blessed Little Assault

This all seems to have started, or at least been resurrected, with a couple of photos somebody took of the Blessed Little Garden Shed and the Blessed Little White Bucket House. I won’t go back over all that. You can click on the link and read all about it if you haven’t already.

But Nicole kind of went apeshit about this.  No matter that she and her buddies have been posting photos of people’s houses, sending love letters, calling employers, and posting and mocking people’s children now for months.  This was done to her and she threw a little tantrum.

agreement broken

I admit that I was completely mystified by this. Several questions came to mind immediately.  First, that photo wasn’t taken recently.  It was actually taken last fall, as I found out later.

Second, what does the “my” mean (highlighted in yellow)? Is she saying “my video of the accident” or “the video of my accident”?  Who had the accident?

And exactly what is she talking about with “an agreement”?


After what seemed like ages, trying to piece this together, what has emerged is that last fall, some woman rear-ended the Naugler van, and Nicole insists that it was intentional.  She is accusing the woman of vehicular assault.

She says she has “video” of the incident (I cannot call it an accident, because Nicole is insisting that it was not, in fact, accidental, but intentional). I’m not exactly sure how one would go about videotaping somebody ramming your van from the rear when you didn’t know it was going to happen, but I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that in typical Naugler fashion, since they always have a phone handy, she videotaped the conversation after the incident, not during it.

no report

And she says that a law enforcement officer was present at the scene. It’s in her video.  But who knows about a police report.

not nice person

Notice this. Not only is she bad-mouthing the woman who hit them, but she’s also insinuating that the woman took the photographs of the shed. There is really no other conclusion to draw from all this. The rear-ending incident happened, as we have subsequently found out, in November 2015. The photos of the shed, clearly taken quite recently, were made public in the last two weeks.

But it’s the same woman, Nicole implies. And because she thinks it’s the same woman, she’s going to “make it public.”

Okay. Let’s make it public, Nicole.


The next door neighbor’s daughter is the person who isn’t “nice” and who intentionally committed vehicular assault.  And Nicole is “nice” and “respectful” and “let them handle it privately.”  Whatever the hell that means.

What you have to convince me of involves three things.

First, Nicole is having hysterical hissy fits because some unknown person took some photos of their horrible little shed. She is literally going apeshit over it.  However, some “not nice” person intentionally rammed their van last fall and she never said a single word.  Not a word that I know anything about.  Convince me that is not sheer malarkey.

Second, I see no damage to that vehicle in the photo. This wasn’t a still from a video shot before the ramming incident, because how would Nicole have known ahead of time that the evil woman was going to ram her?  Furthermore, the officer is in her video, so it was taken after the fact.  When you hit somebody intentionally in the rear, you do it with the front of your car.  Anyone see any damage there?

crazy bitch

Third, I’m trying to imagine a state trooper coming to the scene of a wreck and the woman who rear-ended the other vehicle admits to him that she just did it on purpose because, well, whatever.  She just admits that she used a weapon weighing about three thousand pounds and tried to injure/kill another person/family.  And Nicole says, “Oh, gee, I don’t want to get your father upset because he lives right next door to me, and he gave us summer sausage and we liked it, so let’s just settle up privately and forget it.”  And then the officer, who has an admission from this woman that she tried to injure/kill another person, just says, “Well, if it’s okay with you, that’s fine.” Because you know, who cares?

But notice some stuff here. It’s really not nice to call your neighbor a crazy bitch on public social media.  Probably no summer sausage in the Naugler future.  In addition, according to this account, they weren’t rear-ended at all, but instead the “crazy bitch” tried to run them off the road.  Those are two very different things. I’ve got a feeling the “crazy bitch’s” car never even touched the Naugler van.

road photo

Here’s a photo of the next-door neighbor’s house and garage. the red arrow points to the roof of the Blessed Little Garden Shed. These buildings are relatively close together, much closer than I realized.

I don’t know if the Blessed Little Assault took place on the very private nobody-can-drive-on-it gravel road pictured here, or on up the road.  I suspect it was on up the road some, because in the photograph of the Assault Vehicle, the road appears to be paved.

But anyway, these two families are pretty close together by country standards. They don’t seem to have had such problems getting along when the Nauglers were in the Blessed Little Shitshack, which was located way far back on the Blessed Little Property, down near the Blessed Little Cesspool Pond. They wouldn’t have been within eyesight of the neighbor’s house, I don’t imagine.

We have lots of animals here.  They do not “free-range” because we don’t want them wandering all over hell and half of Georgia.  The only exceptions are our two cats, who are here for rodent control and who need to wander around.

I assure you that the chickens, the dogs, and most definitely the goats visit the neighbors frequently.  Often.  Especially this time of year.  The spring shoots are coming up and goats are browsers.  The neighbor has shrubbery, because the neighbor has a normal (and nice) house and has foundation plantings. Goats love that stuff.  A little nibble here and a big bite there.

The Nauglers have 8 goats. They have advertised seven of them for sale and say they are keeping one.

But here’s what is sort of odd.

goat gash

What does that mark on the goat’s neck look like to you?

It, of course, looks like a gash in the goat’s neck.

It is not.

goat collar

Nicole went to the trouble to take a little video of the goat’s neck to show that there is no gash.  What there is, though, is a collar, along with some pink ribbon that is sort of wadded/hanging/wrapped around the collar. That’s what looks like a gash.

So why does a “free range” goat have on a collar?

In the first place, anyone who puts a collar that is not a breakaway on a goat is just asking for a dead goat.  I know, because we did it once, as rank newbies.  Once, about thirty years ago. And we buried a goat. And I cried for days. I felt so badly about it. Goats do not do well tied up like that. They are browsers, as I’ve mentioned, not grazers like the calf pictured below. They try to eat from trees and shrubs and it’s very easy for them to get a collar caught in a branch.  And if that happens, they don’t just stand there until you come rescue them (which is more than likely what a cow would do). They fight and wiggle and hang themselves.



This is a Jersey bull calf, not a goat, but he is wearing a goat “collar.”  It’s a plastic chain with one link that is breakaway.  I bought them at a goat supply site. They are handy for a couple of reasons: we can differentiate between the calves by color, and they serve as a handle if you don’t tug really hard.  If you try to actually catch a calf (or goat) by grabbing the chain, you’ll be left with it in your hand.

Don’t stake goats.  Fence them.  Of course, the fence has to be better than Naugler fencing, or it won’t keep them in.

If you don’t fence them, they will go over to the neighbor’s house and eat the shrubbery. You’ll have to try to tie them up using a makeshift collar to keep them home.  And then you’ll have to sell your goats. And then you’ll have to go on social media and accuse the neighbor’s daughter of trying to kill you with her car so you can have some revenge.

All this makes me wonder who is the crazy bitch in this whole situation.



Well,  golly gee, we have retreat.  There is “no evidence” that the not-nice person, you know, that “crazy bitch,” who supposedly rear-ended the Naugler van on purpose is involved in “the troll pages.”

Or maybe there is evidence that accusing somebody falsely of vehicular assault on social media, complete with a photo of her car showing no damage whatever, is . . . libel.