The Macrobiotic Stoner

For those wondering… yes I’m still around and still working on blog posts. Just been busy adjusting to life/work/parenting post-pandemic and post-conviction. All is good but hectic, and there hasn’t been as much time as I want for waxing philosophical. Soon, soon. All my love✌️ -MS

Well, here we are, finally. On Friday 7/10/2020 I was sentenced to 2 yrs probation, 10K in fines, 61K forfeiture. My lawyers are happy, and I’m relieved it’s over. Life has been a little too exciting for my taste these last few years and I’m looking forward to hanging out and enjoying the plebeian. There will be more political rants, but not today. Today I’m going to the park.

A few have asked if I have a kickstarter or gofundme campaign they can donate to. What you can do instead is make a donation to if/when/how, part of my phenomenal legal team: Lawyering for Reproductive Justice

If you’re here for the first time and looking for some background information, the links below will provide some detail:

My Interview with Mother Jones: She Started Selling Abortion Pills Online.
Then the Feds Showed Up.
Chelsea Conaboy, February 2019 (March/April issue)

Notable mention in the NY Review of Books: Criminalizing a Constitutional Right
Madeleine Schwartz, December 3, 2020

Apparently, Ted Cruz knows me by name: Pro-Life Mifeprex Letter to FDA
September 1, 2020

My Blog Post about the raid: What It’s Like When Armed FDA Agents Raid Your Place While You’re Getting the Kids Ready For School
February 11th, 2019

And the original post about my own experience in 2012, that led to all of it: RU486 (Mifeprex/Mifepristone): Buy the abortion pill from an offshore online pharmacy now, save yourself $500 later
November 9th, 2012

What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song
And I’ll try not to sing out of key

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

What do I do when my love is away?
Does it worry you to be alone?
How do I feel by the end of the day?
Are you sad because you’re on your own?

No, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, get high with a little help from my friends
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

Do you need anybody?
I need somebody to love
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love

Would you believe in a love at first sight?
Yes, I’m certain that it happens all the time
What do you see when you turn out the light?
I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, get high with a little help from my friends
Oh, I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends

Do you need anybody?
I just need someone to love
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends
Oh, I get high with a little help from my friends
Yes, I get by with a little help from my friends
With a little help from my friends

— The Beatles, 1967

Lyrics by Billy Shears

I think there were 8 or 10 of them. Most of them wore beige, bulletproof vests. Some vests said FDA. They had guns, but left them in the holsters. I hadn’t actually noticed until my roommate said her son later told her they had guns.

My roommate had answered the door. I was downstairs with my daughter, helping her select a different dress when I heard a man’s voice. I got up and walked through the kids’ room to see a beige and black clad man with a crewcut coming down the stairs. He asked for me by name. He asked if anyone else was down there besides us, emphatically and repeatedly. I said no. I followed him upstairs.

In the kitchen he informed me that they had a Search and Seizure Warrant related to the distribution of pharmaceuticals without a prescription over the internet. I don’t remember if I nodded or perhaps I said “ok.” In the movies, people scream at the monsters, but in real life, we get quiet in the face of terror.

My daughter was still in her underwear. One of the men asked if we could put some clothes on her. The the beige and black agent – let’s call him Agent P, was the apparent mouthpiece for the group of men milling about my apartment. He explained that they would conduct a search of the entire premises. Wait — they weren’t all men. In the stream of puffy crewcut, midwestern faces, there was a black woman, S. She had an interesting name and demeanor that I liked.

I don’t remember the next 40 minutes clearly. In my head it plays out like a jumble of disconnected vignettes. Agent P asking my roommate, if she could get the two kids to school so I could stay. Another agent asking if that was what I was wearing to work, adding that if I needed to change, then Agent S (the token female) would accompany me to my room — and if I needed to use the bathroom she would accompany me there too. They wanted to ask me some things, someplace private. I remember explaining to them that I had work meetings I had to get to in the morning but otherwise could take the rest of the day off. Agent P told my roommate that she had signed for some of the packages. She nodded with a confused frown. I felt terrible. I interrupted to tell him she didn’t know about any of this stuff. They found both my phones, personal and work, and asked if there were any more in the apartment. I said no. A notification came up on my personal phone. The agent holding it showed it to Agent P without a word and they exchanged looks. Later on, Agent P would explain the evidence-gathering and forensics that they would perform on my computer and hard drives for evidence like the message that came up on the phone. Another agent asked me about my storage space. He wanted to know where it was, and if I could take them there. I showed them on google maps. They moved back and forth through the building hallway, holding the apartment and building doors open to create a passage between the innards of my apartment and their cars parked at the curb. I lamented outloud about what my neighbors would think. They said that they had told them they were there to investigate a rat infestation. Right. Armed FDA agents investigating a rat infestation. The next day a friend in Boston called me to tell me that a friend of his from the neighborhood called him to exclaim I’d been arrested by the Feds.

(more…)

It was during one of my freelance lulls one summer when I was 26, that a Craig’s list ad seeking erotic masseuses caught my eye. $80 an hour was a lot more than I was making doing design work, and the tone of the job description suggested an unassuming bashfulness that inspired me to respond.

I arrived a few minutes late at the address in Hell’s Kitchen. It was hot out and I was sweating. The lobby was modern and spacious, and without a doorman, so I was buzzed in. I pressed PH in the elevator. Penthouse.

The elevator let me out into a long corridor in blue and grey tones under fluorescents. It was bland but well-kept. I found the door and rang the buzzer. Soft steps padded up to the door. I always look away when I know I’m being observed through a peephole or camera, as if it’s impolite, or perhaps suspicious to admit you know you’re being observed. The door opened partially and a curly redhead peered around it’s edge. She looked both ways down the hallway before inviting me in, which I found curious.

It was a comfortable suite inside, carpeted and furnished with a large red brocade sofa in front of big windows looking out onto the city. The redhead, let’s call her A, asked me if I wanted any water and offered me a seat on the sofa before she sat down at the adjacent computer. She said J would be there shortly to conduct the interview but she was happy to answer any questions I had.

I wanted to know if she did massage. She did. I wanted to know if she’d ever had an unpleasant customer, and if so, how did they handle these things. She motioned to a spreadsheet on the computer screen and explained that sometimes people get blacklisted, but for the most part clients were respectful of boundaries.

Another girl, black and lanky, arrived. She’d also responded to the ad. She sat on the sofa next to me. We chatted with A, the redhead. I asked if she’d ever done anything like this before. She said no, and we giggled.

(more…)

If, like me, you’re uninsured, your physician should already have one of these coupons for you. If NOT, download it, print it up DOUBLE-SIDED and in COLOR, and then send it in with your bill and reduced payment. FYI, this is not an official distribution of the coupon, and I’d probably get in trouble for posting it online (or at least told to take it down), so follow instructions. I’m posting it because the last time I needed to get my annual just-to-be-safe slew of STD tests, my midwife didn’t have the coupon, and it was a royal pain in the neck to get the bill reduced.
Download the PDF with front and back
If you prefer the raw images, these are 600 dpi PNG format. You will need an image-editing program such as Adobe Photoshop to print the correct size (4.2″ x 5.4″, or 10.75cm x 13.77cm) Download Enzo_FRONT.png
Download Enzo_BACK.png