Michael Hyde 🥵

“Lollipop man” Michael Hyde, has been convicted of filming himself sexually abusing children as young as 22 months old !

22 months old is a baby ! A defenceless, innocent baby and this monster filmed himself sexually abusing that poor toddler !

Of course in stereotypical child abuser form he has denied his crimes all the way to sentencing, despite there being video evidence of his heinous crimes. He said he was wiping potato chip crumbs and sand off the children ….. the worst part is he truly believes we should accept his lies as fact. Like most child predators he believes he has done nothing wrong, and this is why they can NEVER be rehabilitated.

Michael Cyril Hyde, 60, stood trial and was convicted in the District Court of WA of eight counts of child sexual abuse committed between 2011 and 2016, including persistently engaging in sexual conduct with a child under 16 and producing child exploitation material.

Hyde’s recordings of the abuse were found, along with tens of thousands of child exploitation videos and images he had downloaded from the internet, when police raided his home. Two of the victims were sisters aged between 6 and 10, while the unrelated infant was aged 22 months. He also produced child exploitation material of another girl when she was aged 11 or 12.

What an absolute monster, filming the abuse he perpetrates upon these innocent children.

We know online predators groups insist upon members supplying videos and pictures of children being abused in order to become, and remain, a member. These heinous groups allow child predators to participate in swapping and sharing the mulitude of child abuse images they make, with other like minded predators around the world.

Every single child featured in these child abuse images is a REAL child, their emotions are REAL, their torment is REAL, and the horror and pain on their little faces is also REAL !

None of the children testified during the trial, so the case hinged on several hours of these videos, which were shown to the jury in a closed court. The court heard Hyde made obscene comments in the videos including asking one girl “how much she would cost and how long he could have her for.” Remember this was an innocent child that he was speaking to as if she were a sex worker.

Hyde admitted making the recordings, but denied his conduct was sexual, claiming he was brushing potato chip crumbs and sand off the children.

“You were unable to appreciate what was plain to everyone during your trial,” Judge Felicity Davis said on Friday, adding the proceedings had been confronting for all concerned.

She said there was a “high degree of perversion” and persistence involved with Hyde’s indecent dealing offences. “All the children were very young and they could not have been more vulnerable,” she said.

The crimes were also brazen given others were nearby on some occasions, including the mother of a victim. A detective described the child exploitation material as some of the most graphic he had seen “in a long, long time.”

More than 2500 of the images were in the two most severe categories and some showed the children in visible distress.

Hyde has already been in custody for more than three years and will be eligible for parole after serving 10 years and six months behind bars.

As far as we at FACAA are concerned, Hyde deserves to be locked up for the rest of his natural life and should never again be let out.

However compared to some sentences, sadly 12 years is a decent start. We can only hope other judges use this sentence as a guide and continue to give decade long sentences and more, for child abuse.

No one can be trusted with your children !
Not even the lollipop man who we trust to guide our children across the road safely.

Sadly, having a position of trust is not the same as being trustworthy. Just as being a ‘nice’ person, is not the same as being a ‘good’ person, differences we need to teach our children.

FACAA #ProudFACAA #GuardiansOfTheInnocent #ChildAbusersCanNotBeRehabilitated #MichaelCyrilHyde #Perth #WA #WAPOL #WAPolice #ChildExploitationMaterial #ChildAbuser #22monthsOld #Baby #ChildAbuse #VoiceForTheVoiceless #HopeForTheHopeless #ChildrensChampions #EndingChildAbuse #RaisingAwareness #ChangingLives #HealingSurvivors #ChangingLaws #Legal #Law #LegalReform #JuliasJustice #PhoenixProgram #WeWillFight #StandUp #FromHellWeRise #JamiesGuardians #NeverGonnaStop


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Top secret neighbors come to town©️

“TOP SECRET!” a poem, a.k.a.: “Numinous Neighbors!” Sunday (August 4, 2019)

Hush!-Hush!-We’ve-done-some-“research!” ’bout-our-new-neighbors-‘cross-the-alleEy!

And-we-can-only-say: “It’s-prob’ly-‘Agent-J!’ ” &-his-wife, code-name: “Mata Hari!” *

There’s a son over there: “code-name”-a: “C!” **

An’-a–dog-‘n’-a-nother-boy! Don’t look-at-me!’

The whole thing looks suspicious (pause) for “J” hails from Mon-tana!

But-they-look-all-together-TEXAN! and-I-ain’t-seen-no-bandana!

Plus, there’s-a-Scottish-name! “Beam us up there, Scot-TEE!”

And they’re cleanin’ their-goat-head-ridden lawn, better-‘n’-you-‘n’-me!

With so many cars, we figured right away:

“It’s M. I. – 6 or F. B. I. or-the-bloody C. I. A.!

We may have to shut down [our]-“ops:” “Alien Encounters, Inc.,”

Because-they-might-notice alien body parts, which-seldom-but-sometimes stink!

They could be “double agents,” for-when-I-suggested-(we-do)-some-kar-a-o-kAYe,

“J” just smiled and-indicated: “Merle-Haggard’s-mA-MAIN-STAY!”

So, I test him-out and-said: “OK! A-duet-o’ Country Gold!”

But HE-HESITATED – and I-cogitated: “There’s-something-we’re-not-bein’-told!”

They could-be: “MEN IN BLACK,” going-undercover-DEEP,

In-this-place-of-Close-Encounters! The-night-skies-can-make-you-weep,

Because it gets so dark here! and-we’re way out in the BOONIES,***

So aliens come to visit-us-often; we’re-a-S. E. T. I. **** bunch-of-loonies!

fin ©️

** – We have received “intel” that “C” is planning to enroll at the local college and play football. IF he can run REALLY fast, faster than the other boys, he is likely to be an alien, since he’s got white skin! It would be like Superman of Krypton, and that’s just so unfair to the other boys AND not very “American,” if you ask us!

*** – a thinly settled, rural area! short for BOONDOCKS!

**** – Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence:


So, we’ll hold-our-judgment for-NOW, but we’ve leaked them a-copy of-this-poem,

And we’ll just wait – and SEE – IF they’re-settlin’-here, plannin’-t’-make a-happy-home,

Or IF they’re super secret government agents – or just plain alien spies,

Come-t’-check out “operations,” hidin’-the-fact [that]-they’ve-got 3-EYES!!!

Scarborough Fair~

“SCARBOROUGH FAIR!” * a poem, a.k.a.: “A Diversified Portfolio!” 4 Aug 2019 (Sunday)

“Stay loose and limp! Breathe long and sigh!

Do not believe – all-the[se]-things-‘catchin’-your-eye!’

Diversify your-‘portfolio’ with 20% to-The-“Arts,”

20% to the government! and 20% to smelling f – – ts!

20% might-go to-your Cabin in-The-Wood,

Where you-can-grow-some-lettuce, just-like-our-forefathers-could,

And raise a chicken – or maybe a cow or two,

And, when you cry, hopefully-it’ll-be-a-happy milieu?”

This LIFE? It seems – like-such-a-corn-u -co-pia;

Perhaps dystopia! or, maybe, utopia!

Who-knows? Tell me to love you – or tell me to die;

Laugh if you will! or we-can both cry!

Who knows what tomorrow – brings-for-us, My Dear!

Shall we be hopeful? or shed a big tear?

You can imagine a God, who’s nice and kind,

Or a big, devil guy – who is stuck in your mind!

Both-though will-expect-you – to-worship THEIR THEME!

Or-you’ll-maybe-worship: Big Pharma? or-a-“meme?”**

fin ♥

[And]-the-other-20%? Why-not-keep-it-for-YOU,

To-invest-with (in) or “blow,” as you-see-fit to!?

  • – Life is a FAIR! and! also an-af-fair,

And-sometimes-it-seems LIFE-ISN’T-FAIR!

Do-you carry SCARs? picked-up-along-The-Way?

Probably so, probably so – but here’s what I say:

“Just-a-keep going, with a good, steady pace,

And-don’t-talk-to ‘haters!’ They’re-all-over-the-place!”

** – an element of culture, passed from generation to generation by IMITATION,

OR – is it SIMPLY a cute image or video, passed rapidly by Internet users? You decide!

The Mystical Poet Laureate ~ our Professor

“PLEASE DON’T READ THIS!!”* a poem, a.k.a.: “Life is A Lecture!” for Sunday, August 4, 2019

There’s a BARDO!** and – a Brando!***

A panda – and – a Landau!****

With my “X” (wife) asking “[wh]Y,

[did] Bob up-and-die?” I just sigh!

When St. Paul said: “Death’s a GAIN,”*

I interrupt: “Yeah!! But-life,” I explain,

“Is-both profound AND profane!”

And, when with you’ve I’ve lain,


MUCH ‘BOUT-NOTHING,” as we doze,

And suppose (pause) that death “sends,”

“Dead ones” to-special-“ends!”


About-there-being-a- “final curtain!”

I’m not too sure, That-we’ll-ever-con-cur,

And BEST LAID PLANS, “Humanity” – fans!

We FAN the embers of sweet folk-lore,

Because NO ONE – wants-to open “a door,”

LEADING TO NOTHING, for-it pains “them” so,

To say: “WE’RE NOTHING!” and “We DON’T know,

NOTHING!” So, we keep “yapping” with conjecture,


fin ©️

  • – UNLESS you WANT to!!!

** – where “good” AND “bad” Buddhists go?

*** – Marlon, a movie actor

**** – Martin, another “dead?” movie actor

* – Phillipians 1:21

100 Ways I Figured That You Can Kill Yourself

{dedicated to my hero, Alan Watts}

Hi, I am J Samuel Davis. Why my father Samuel gave me that name, I guess I will never know; he said that he was inspired to do it because he knew some lawyers that just had an initial as their first name. Of course, the lawyers he knew probably had a “regular” name like John or Richard or Simon, and, thus, they ended up with corresponding names like: J. Lawrence Tyler, R. Clarence McKenna and S. Porter Stanley, respectively. My given name, on the other hand, has no real name that the “J” represents! Why? I have no idea, and, as has been suggested to me, the question “Why” is ridiculous because, in this realm of existence, no one really knows the answer of why anything happens of why it exists. All we APPEAR able to do is to speculate . . . endlessly, from the beginning of our apparent existence until, apparently, that existence is terminate. There is just what happens, apparently, and it is all apparently beyond or control. Of course, we appear to be able to believe our speculations about aspects of our existence, even to the point that those speculations provide us with a “peace of mind” that seems to be able to justify our existences and what we do to prolong them. I live in far West Texas . . . a place called Alpine, Texas, in an unusual, barbarous, cocky country called the United State of America. This country, and the people inhabiting it, is known for the persecution of a culture called the American Indian, until guilt overcame the populous and the Indians were allowed to reassert their cultural values, imported people from Africa to work as slaves, until guilt overcame the slave holders, or their neighbors, and those slaves were “freed” and provided with the means to “take over” the country, via political control, physical superiority and other means, “scientific” and medical “innovations,” designed to “improve” the condition of the humans and their environment, ultimately leading to probable destruction of everything, and a host of other anomalies, including something called “fast food,” which is a man-made substance, incorporating chemical substances that render these materials largely toxic and ultimately destructive and mutative of everything they encounter and has, ultimately, tainted all that used to be “natural” food.

Imagine being all alone, for over 3 years, with suicidal ideations hundreds of times each day. No medication. Just sitting with it! Well, that is what this delightful story is about. If you ever need ideas on how to “off” yourself, this book is for you! I should have, perhaps, named the book “LOL.” Plus, I still get to fall into that state on fairly numerous occasions at this time. Maybe not as much, but, still, possibly more than you, Gentle Reader, will ever know! Or, I could have entitled this book, “Shalom.” Perhaps you will understand, if you ever decide to read the “blessed/accursed” thing!

Please realize that this writing is simply a therapeutic attempt to “bring the inside to the outside,” as some have said. I hesitate to allow any of you that are “faint of heart” to indulge in these fantastic horrors. However, all I can do is suggest that you use your own, best judgment; And I wish you the best . . . all of you, really. I hope no one ever has to be in “the place” that promotes this sort of mental imagery UNLESS you have the mechanisms to deal with it without apparently self-destructing. I view myself, by the way, as, possessing “faintness of heart,” and not just a little . . . but one Helluva lot. No one knows what the future holds! (. . . or do they?) Shalom, which means “peace!”


I can only write this down and describe what IS happening RIGHT NOW. I am at the low point. I do not believe I am at a low or “the” low point; I know. It is the lowest point I BELIEVE I have ever been at . . . yet, I feel certain that I will be invited to even lower points, as I have been in the past . . . lower and lower points, and I somehow imagine that, at some point, doesn’t a really destitute person have to reach the breaking point . . . and then that is where they kill themselves. Isn’t that the “way of the psychotic world?” It is not sadness; that would seem to be acceptable because, perhaps then, I could cry. But there are no tears. There IS only hopelessness, helplessness and fear greater than anything I could have ever imagined when I was young. I know there is no future, no stability and I am completely manipulated and controlled by something that feels completely beyond me. I do not believe any of this; I know it. What I believe is that, within 24 hours, I will achieve a state of consciousness where I KNOW that everything will be all right. It will then be no believing, but a knowing of that; however, what I have just described, is what I believe RIGHT NOW. In this state, not even, really, believing in God, I still cry out to some God for help. I imagine I am experiencing exactly the description of how Jesus felt on the cross, declaring, “My father, my father, why have you forsaken me?” It is absolute; I am lost and alone and I have no hope. Period. I will continue to try to eat, think and complete the day, hoping for the most rapid ending, BELIEVING that tomorrow will bring a reversal. I believe, as has been the case, that, within 24 hours, I will be so certain that everything will be fine, that I will KNOW that, without doubt, and I will even act confident and cocky, believing that I really can be stable and hopeful and that life truly has meaning. Yet I will also reflect, in that moment, that the hopelessness that I feel now has returned over and over, with certainty and power, as it impacts me right now. Somehow, in that confident state, I will just know that it can not happen again.

My life NOW has no meaning, I wish to be dead only and I am sorry that I was ever born, ever brought into this existence. I will try to eat something and come back to this writing, approximately 24 hours from now; now is 3:55 P.M., with ABSOLUTE HOPELESSNESS, ABSOLUTE ABANDONMENT, Saturday, June 6, 2015.

It is 7:56 A.M., Sunday, June 7, 2015, and I am compelled to write this. It makes no difference. I can not answer the “Why” of why I am writing this. Two things occur to me: a song lyric from the rock group Queen: “Nothing really matters . . . at all,” and the quote from the Christian Bible: “All is vanity.”

Let’s see. I was able to sleep, at least to close my eyes and descend into what was seemingly unconsciousness. I now feel enough energy to get up and move around in somewhat of an easy fashion. I really do not want to write this exactly, yet I do. I really do not know what to do with the time that is given me. I really do not WANT to eat or get on Facebook or do artwork or write or be in existence. I would prefer to be dead because I have no hope for any the value of any future. I do not know why the world is the way it is. I do not know why people are “out there,” doing what they are doing, thinking what they are thinking, except they are all conditioned to be doing what they are doing, as I am. They perceive relative value in their lives, based on their conditioning and they derive satisfaction from continuing on and they are not prepared or willing to “die, either because they fear what that state represents or they fear the pain of it or they are conditioned to avoid it . . . I do not know. I am not sure I care, or that I even want to ask these questions of “Why,” because I feel certain there are no real answers . . . just speculations, as I have written.

In this state, I guess, I feel the need to just keep doing something, to continue to go along with what I consider “the whims” of the people around me because, I guess, they are so certain of the certainty and value of their existences that they would impose them on me. I THINK my preference, which I feel certain I do not have, is that I might ask them to offer me what they call here “euthanasia,” but that option does not appear available right now. Perhaps I would not opt for it in this state I am in right now; perhaps that is because of my conditioning, being taught about the “sanctity” of life or the value of life, which I have so often vainly clung to. However, in the state I was in yesterday afternoon, given the severity of the mental anguish, death then, as I recall, was a compelling desire, to end the suffering, which I am told is my own doing, and, therefore, I should be able to overcome that condition. This, of course, I think, and I am REALLY not sure, is the speculation of those who are conditioned to BELIEVE what they do about suffering and, I think, have found what they BELIEVE is real value and enough “peace of mind,” or contentment, in their lives, which justifies continuation, not just for them, but for everyone and everything in their lives that they believe holds the fabric of their existence together. Well, the fabric of my existence, to me, seems to be irreparably torn (perhaps it always was torn, but I was conditioned to look away by burying the obvious vileness of my existence in some unconscious pockets in my “psyche,” wherever or whatever that is).

I anticipate that the day will progress, and I will continue to live “under protest.” I BELIEVE that I will begin to “feel better,” yet I BELIEVE that is just feeling different, a different mood, more accepting of what is happening around me, etc. At some point, I imagine I will begin to BELIEVE that I have a future in art or writing or beginning legal work again, but I think I can say here that I KNOW that whatever thoughts or speculations occur to me, however my mood might change to support those speculations, that it will all come crashing down like the proverbial “house of cards,” because I think I KNOW or REALLY BELIEVE that is all this existence represents. It is all, as Buddhists are said to say, impermanent . . . illusory . . . it is, as in the Pinocchio story, a carnival, where all “innocents” are ushered into a ride infested environment, replete with candied apples and cotton candy, and the apparently once untainted organisms are converted into what the carnival barker is . . . jackasses, ready then to be introduced into the world as “functional” automatons, prepared to do the bidding of whatever cultural their significant others are already immersed in. And, if the immersion does not take place with sufficient completeness to assure relative “peace of mind,” the hapless victim(s) must then be further conditioned, either by, in this Brave New World, mind-altering drugs, more powerful methods of indoctrination, called cults or psychological counseling or any kind of intense, indoctrinating counseling or imprisonment, especially in the United State of America, because any deviation from very narrow parameters must be swiftly dealt with. These consequences, I BELIEVE, are what I have been trying to hide from these last several years, because I seem to KNOW that I have no place in this existence, in this arrangement, especially given the mood swings I encounter, which, to others, certainly appears to just be a mental aberration or a game that I am playing. And, perhaps, I have no idea . . . really . . . perhaps it is just a game I am playing. Perhaps it is such a good game, that the game is now playing me. I certainly look back on my life and believe that, as in my youth, where I thought “things were OK,” it was just because I had been so conditioned or had so conditioned myself or both that things were OK, that I absolutely believed it and was perfectly willing to just go along with everything and everybody BELIEVING that things were kind of sort of all right in the world and there was a benevolent God in “the heavens,” and the government was on the up-and-up, or, at least, the party of my choice or, at the very least, the justice system, that would prevent “bad” elements from invading the sanctity of my existence and that of my family, who all loved me very much and wanted only “the best” for me . . . which, of course, amounted to something called “family values,” the things that gave me such comfort when I was growing up, having Sunday dinners with my grandparents and playing in the backyard with family and friends.

Kokernot Stadium ~ Alpine ~ Texus America

“FIELD OF DREAMS!” a.k.a.: “Welcome To Kokernot Stadium, The Biggest Little Baseball Field In Texas (Alpine)!” December 7, 2018 {SUN-day!} a painting, acrylic & dried watercolor, by the same name: artist J Samuel Davis.

The KIND of game we choose, makes clear,

{Some have hot dogs & a beer!}

Dispositions’re on your sleeve!

Without much thought: WHAT YOU BELIEVE!

SOME games stress what’s not so nice,


“Safe!” and


On “Koker- (not) Field,” balls will fly,

Women cheer and men can cry!

Which, maybe, warrants ridicule,

Remember: Jesus {cried and} rode a mule!

Even here, SOME folks shout “mean!”

For-our-family gatherings,


So, gimme bat

And gimme ball,


fin. <3