© 2019 by Ernest Kinnie






A.  Mary---a tale of the Wild West of long ago---

BMy name is NUTMEG she screamed

CBooks and plays

D.  Alice Shannon---a poor, poor little orphan girl



This handwritten story was in an old chest I bought at an auction. There are many corrections and many notes and pictures stuck between the pages, and the ink and pencil are faded and often difficult to read. I have had to guess a few times and hope I haven’t done too much harm to Mary's intent.



Mary Faraday Huntington

I’ve led a wild life and had a hell of a good time.  I still have my nose, all my fingers and my scalp thanks to my high intelligence, strength, quickness, excellent judgment, and a little help from all my many, many friends.  I promise not to lie too bad.  If you are a prissy little thing, best to pass on by.  If you are a sensitive, refined gentleman, best to pass on by.



“You can't race.  You’re just a girrrrrrl!”


I bounced him a good one and he shrieked and jumped up and down with blood spurting out of his big, ugly nose.  Oh my, how he did carry on.


I got on my pony and went to the line.  The flag dropped and off we went.  No problem, I promised Charlie a feedbag of corn when we win.  He got his corn and I got a shiny silver dollar and a tin full of chewing tobacco.  I traded the can for a bunch of fancy ribbons at old man Bailey’s haberdashery.


My name is Mary Faraday Huntington and I was born in 1832 at Independence, Missouri.  My mother died when I was 9 months old and an Indian woman working at a whorehouse was the only one Christian enough to take me in.


Don’t know who my father was but he must have been big, strong, and sharp as a whip.  Probably an army man having a little fun.


Sure they call me a bastard but they learned quick enough not to do that to my face.


Jennie is a Blackfoot Spirit Woman and a real good mother who cooks and cleans at Polly’s Paradise.  We have a little room in the basement.  Her real name is Aokii’aki, Water Woman.


She taught me sign and Blackfoot, how to live off the land, and how to fight with my hands and feet and knife.  And she is teaching me the ways of a Spirit Woman.


I only saw Aokii'aki real sad once.  When I asked why there were tears in her eyes, she said she was remembering a night long ago.  Her father, a Blackfoot medicine man, came over, looked into her eyes and then turned to the others gathered around the fire.

A little while and I will be gone from among you, whither I cannot tell.

From nowhere we come, into nowhere we go.

What is life?

It is a flash of firefly in the night.

It is a breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.

It is as the little shadow that runs across the grass

and loses itself in the sunset.

Jennie and Polly didn’t want me to go but it’s time.  A bastard living in a whorehouse don’t break much bread with those gentlefolk on the other side of town, and I’d be upstairs in my own little room soon enough if I stayed.


A wagon train was assembling south of town and Polly found a nice Christian couple who agreed to take me on to help with the two kids, cooking and washing.  Polly told them my mother died and there was nobody to look after me.


She gave me a pretty little gold crucifix to hang around my neck and I put on my best prim and proper when Mr. and Mrs. O’Sullivan looked me over.


I left town just before the sun went down, in the late Spring of 1847. I was real excited and happy, but then I passed children running and laughing, white picket fences, and clothes hanging on the line, and suddenly felt empty and a little sad and scared.


Come get Mary'S Story and ride with her into the Wild West of long ago.



What a story.  Told by Miss Jacqui, who lived it.

There was once, really and truly there was, a wonderful place called Children’s Garden, in Marin County, California. Broken children came to be mended. This is the story of Nutmeg.


Nutmeg Arrives

She was, according to the records we had received, just seven years old, reportedly a very bright child. When she was but three months old, the courts removed custody from her schizophrenic mother and made her a ward of the state of California.

Since then she had “failed” six foster homes and an adoption placement in the Bay area. Now she stood here defiant, stating that she had indeed just fried the goldfish on the radiator, and she was proud that she had.


“So what you gonna do ‘bout it?”


“Not much at the moment,” I replied. “What’s your name?’


“I am Nutmeg.”


“Hmmm, it says here your name is Katy.”


“My name is NUTMEG!” She screamed. I wasn’t at all sure the sounds coming from this cute little girl in front of me were human, but they were intelligible and very, very loud.


Go get Nutmeg and come along with her to Children's Garden and Miss Jacqui.



All available from Amazon as eBooks and paperbacks.

To learn more Click the name in blue.



Jacqueline Kelley, MS MA

School Psychologist


My name is NUTMEG she screamed. 

Yes, there really and truly was a wonderful place called Children’s Garden, in Marin County, California---a special place where broken children were mended.


This is the story of Nutmeg.  Taken from her schizophrenic mother.  Failed many foster homes.


Janis Hoffman

I hold a modestly high level position in government and wish to remain anonymous.  I am grateful to Dr. Kinnie for supporting and publishing my books about the unusual lives of Mary and Alice.


Mary  She was raised in a whorehouse by a Blackfoot Spirit Woman.  A true tale of the Wild West of long ago. The way it really was among the miners and soiled doves---not the sugar coated stories of books and movies. “I’ve led a wild life and had a hell of a good time, and I promise not to lie too bad.”



Alice Shannon  I’m a poor little orphan girl---all alone. You’re so big and strong and handsome.  Give me a little money and I’ll give you a nice big kiss.

 Alice Shannon II  The Nature of Reality.  Welcome to my second book.  We'll have such fun freaking out people and visiting Paris and Montmartre. Not for snowflakes or Mrs. Grundy.

Alice Shannon III  The Creation of Reality. Welcome to my third book. You’re as weird as I am. Come along and explore the Catacombs of Paris and let's dance with Reality some more.


Come join the Creative---the Adventurous---the Free

Ernest Kinnie, PhD

Clinical Psychologist

Over the years, students, patients and I worked hard finding useful psychological concepts and strategies.  My books and website give you the most powerful.  You don’t just read about them---you experience them.  Easily gain what we labored hard for.


I've lived a long, full life and had a hell of a good time.  Been a professor, psychotherapist, National Park Ranger, soldier, garbage collector, and antique dealer.  My proudest accomplishment---at least the most fun---was writing the first fishing guide to Glacier National Park.


Einstein insists that science and religion are branches of the same tree. Fundamentalists insist they’re incompatible.

Which is it?


In the spirit of John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty, this book considers the strengths and weaknesses of the two great interpreters of reality in our culture, science and religion.  An honest dialogue is often made toxic by atheists and fundamentalist Christians---who cherry picking history, straw man the other side, and indulge sad, mean-spirited ad-hominem attacks.  And there’s more.


The ideologues on both sides trivialize and demonize, and easily knock down the abominable straw men they create.  What fun stomping the stuffing into the mud.  There is some truth in how each views the other---but the selectivity and exaggerations are a little less than honest.  Hopefully this presentation will be a bit more even-handed.


Perverse  Incentives

Too much scientific research is junk.  Cannot be replicated.  Self-interest and many other factors get in the way---wittingly and unwittingly.


Science is the most valid source of information about humans and planet earth.  It has provided wonderful gifts such as longer, healthier lives, and machines that keep us creative and amused.  But best be aware of the influences on scientists that affect the validity of their work---especially in areas that have political, economic and ideological implications.


Ride the Tigers.  Especially Tiger 3---the nature of human Reality.



Yes, you’re all grown up now and have to act like an adult.  You’re reading this book so you’ve done a pretty damn good job of it---maybe too good.  Maybe lost the joy of being a kid.


Margaret Mead found a way around that horror.

I was wise enough to never grow up

while fooling most people into believing I had.


Bring back that wonderful world, full of challenges and excitement---full of adventures and fun.


Words, words, words! They shut one off from the universe. Three quarters of the time one's never in contact with things, only with the beastly words that stand for them.

Aldous Huxley


Nothing wrong being in your head---words are essential for survival.  But if you spend too much time away from the direct experience of Reality you’re dead.  You have lost the richness and vitality of life.


Let Fritz and the 3 Tigers bring you back to Reality--- come join the Creative, the Adventurous, the Free.


Best to pass on by the 2nd and 3rd chapters if you’re a snowflake or Mrs. Grundy.  But come along if you haven’t had your free spirit squeezed or beaten out of you.


Brainwashing the masses

Stop being a useful idiot.  Politicians and advertisers work hard washing and stuffing your brain---make them work harder.


They have shoved thousands and thousands of commands into your mind---to control what you think, feel and do.  Use Skinner, Pavlov and the 3 Tigers to shove them right back.  Come join the Creative, the Adventurous, the Free.

WOOO-HOOOOO--what a trip


Ballet dancers flex and free their muscles

to warm-up for the dance.


Flex and free your Mind and Spirit

to warm-up for life.


Start with a Mind or Spirit Adventure.  Gather wisdom and folly.  Or run with the Tigers.


Home of the wizards

Dance with the wizards. Explore what you are and what you can become. Slip and slide among the Realities.


Become one of the creators of your generation.  Able to bring new thoughts, emotions and actions into your life and into the world of humankind.


In the last chapter fly with the free.  They will increase your flow of freedom, and add to your creativity and joy.


Five short plays

Five life changing moments


A sad, blind man and an old, sick woman meet in the park.  Life has not been good for David and he’s planning to take the helium trip.  A caregiver has taken away most of Polly’s freedom.  This is their last chance.


Susan and Sammy fall in love at the New Horizon Home for the Elderly.  The puritanical director won’t let them be together except in the day room.  Susan has severe asthma, serious brain damage, and frequently flips into a sad, little girl who wants to go home.  Sammy finds a way.


Silvana and Paul, two shy teens, meet in the park.  Scary and exciting.


Two old actors, Jim and Robbie, try to keep in practice by faking heart attacks in the park.  It doesn’t work out so good.  The sweet old lady steals Jim’s wallet, and the tough guy thinks Robbie is having a bad trip and shoves a white pill down his throat.


Marilyn, Serena, George and Fredric want to join a playwriting group.  They are more for fun than serious playwriting but think they can learn something.  They write a funny skit, but decide that won’t impress them, so they turn it into a deep and serious play.  Not easy.



Five short plays

Not for snowflakes or finger waggers.


Karol and Barry have fun sharpening their acting skills playing Rapo with a cop in the park.  An old guy tries to warn him but he doesn’t listen.


June and Jimmie are street people and police informants.  They want out.  When a nice lady who helps the homeless comes to visit, they have fun pretending Jimmie is a retarded pervert.  She doesn’t have the fun, but helps them out anyway.


Jake meets a cougar in the park.  She saves him from a cop and invites him home for lunch to show him the three warm ovens in her wonderful kitchen.


The power of cyberbrains, forbidden love, and a return to Shakespeare’s “Lord, what fools these mortals be!”  Not for humans prone to nightmares, but a wonderful gift for pedophiliacs.


What do you do when you’re too old to fly?  The circus is all Fred and Marilyn know.  Maybe best to end it all.  Who wants to flip burgers, or play sweet, perky little waitress, getting pinched on the tush for lousy tips.



A 2-act play

A shaman has a little fun.

He lures the clueless, uptight professors into his world.