Mary Mallon; Ian Baptiste & Deon Baptiste
From ~~~~ mediawikimedia wikimediawiki
califerne DonFphrnqTaub Persina administrator ® © ™ ℠ altacalifernia altacalifernian altacalifernean altacaliferni altacalifernea altacaliferne altacalifern altacalifer hopiakuta 21:00, 21 November 2011 (UTC)
« Suicide versus homicide: a dilemma in search of a decision. »
marine corpse occupy suicidedoll
« If I have committed suicide in forthcoming years, & been successful @ it, then here are some reasons why,… »
« teeter totgeschwiegen up & teeter totgeschwiegen down by NormaLee Kran Taub Persina ; scene sawed apart » .odt
« »
< http://califerne.com >;
< http://altacalifernian.com >;
< http://altacalifernia.com/mediawiki >.
Dear Mom, &/or anyone who might experience this statement, from my shmushed brain,
Please do not resuscitate; do not revive.
In some senses, I had been dead, doomed, millennia prior to conception; child abuse does not dissipate when the target becomes a senior citizen, Aarp member. However, in other senses, I am not quite dead, not quite yet.
A few days prior to New Year’s Day I would be fifty two years old. If I have not been capable of removing their abuse from my mind & my brain yet, then I never could, never would. Their abuse is always present, always there, @ all times. It has always been a struggle to distract myself from these thoughts, & it all only worsens.
Due to the nature of my dilemma I have mixed third person singular, second person singular, first person singular, various other grammar, spelling & punctuation; I am conflicted as to whether I have addressed it to my mother, or to anyone & everyone. I believe that per extant circumstances I am destined toward a bore & scare prison. I believe that in close in habitation I would be subject to involuntary tobacco, secondhand tobaccowall, & obtrusive noise, no Directtv [ I do need digital video recorder | personal video recorder access, as my brain is so messed, in order to track news. ], no internet, et cetera. I have described the likely result below.
This letter is created in text @ fourteen pica, forty five pages, 16,849 words, 98,146 characters.
Mom, & all: Please do end all totgeschwiegen. I do contend that I have never lived; but, if I no longer exist, if I am dead, please do learn the totgeschwiegen antonym, & demand that it apply to yourself, everyone else, everybody else, for forever. If there is more than one antonym, learn each variation, & apply them to every person. Regarding every two year old, twelve year old, fifty two year old, & one hundred twenty two year old. Please do ensure that the only totgeschwiegen is on enforced totgeschwiegen, permanently.
Ensure that every person has an absolute liberty to speak about everything; however, that does does not preclude a person asking another person to keep a secret, as that is not necessarily forced, enforced. It is an absolute truth that we must quit being a punitive species; less punitive, less punishment, more pun initiative. If that seems to contradict anything else that I say, then I am a faulty editor, mushed brain.
Occupy Dataran Merdeka, Wilayah Persekutuan Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia Federation, began in July, 2011. Occupy Zuccotti began September, 2011; ended Tu. 15Th, November. According to various news agencies, Occupy Wall Street is more popular than is Congress; according to Colorado Senator Michael Bennet, communist or communism is more popular than is Congress, as had been Dick Nixon during the Watergate break in scandal, than is 2011 Congress.
« More Popular Than Congress: Congressional Approval Rating: Percentage of Americans Who Approve of Congress »
Below, I describe how wikimedia has chosen to slander, libel, two disabled twin Afrocaribbean men as communist, which could have resulted in torture & assassination.
Mom, I know that you oppose Occupy Wall Street; I do not comprehend your reason sufficiently to describe. Actually, there is a small minority of your & Dad’s actions that I could ever comprehend. Most of what each of you have done seems nonsense; but, I concede that most of what the human being species does seems nonsense.
It is a complex chore to scribe a suicide note, a suicide letter, when ambivalent about that choice; it is moreso when trying to list a purpose which stretches through more than half a century, & which worsens with each of those years. And I have procrastinated about this since 1963, during which time I have attempted virtually every other option. I do believe that I have exhausted my options & myself; although, my parents & others who have abused me have exhausted me.
Due to your abuse, your & Dad’s abuse of me, I had wanted immediate death in 1962, two years old. In 1963, when I think that it had been, I had learned of suicide via television. Amongst the toys & other items that I had learned of via television, I did want that. I vaguely knew that I had been seeing the word spelt onscreen; but, I could neither write nor read.
I, certainly, could come to neither you, nor Dad, nor anyone, for assistance regarding this word, so, I had thought « Suicide, suicide, suicide, suicide,…. »; but, a few minutes later I realized that I had forgotten it. Whether it had been weeks or years later, not certain; but, I did see it again, via television, memorizing its pronunciation for forty eight years, nearly half a century. &, yes, I can, now, also spell it, possibly commit it, as well as commit it to memory.
A few years later I had put the timelimit @ sixteen, which would be approximately 1975 or 1976; I, then chose eighteen. I, then moved it to twenty one, where it remains, 1980, 1981. I have never, since, chosen a specific year. I have, however, chronically, thought « tomorrow », or a week hence, or a month. I have missed every deadline; yes, literally, deadline. I do procrastinate excessively.
As for twenty one, in 1982, the year following 1981, therefore more than a year late, I do recall mixing cockroach poison w/ orange juice, which I had been incapable of swallowing; w/in twenty four hours I had signed myself into Oliveview San Fernando Psychiatric Hospital, which amounts to my very first such experience.
You, Mom, you & Dad, but, mostly you, individually, beat me to death. I would have preferred that you had not beaten me; but, since you had, I do wish that you had beaten me beyond death, so that I would be completely dead, rather than in this condition where I feel perpetually neither live nor dead.
As things are in twenty eleven, I am neither quite dead, nor quite alive. I am not entirely certain that I have truly had a childhood; nor am I entirely certain that I have had an adulthood. However, you do know that I have spent nearly my entire adulthood, my chronological adulthood, on Social Security Disability; although much of my disability may be genetic, therefore nature, much of it is certainly nurture, abuse, torture: physical disability; cognitive disability; & emotional disability or psychological disability. You & Dad did that; but, mostly you, individually.
If I commit suicide successfully, you are the reason, purpose. But, each of you, you & Dad, are both nature & nurture, dysfunctional & malfunctional nurture & nature.
Ed Brian Persina died in January, 2011; Dad died less than two & a half months later in March, 2011.
Conrad Robert Murray is not available.
Jacob Kevorkian is not available; but, I do find these references intriguing:
« God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian, a book by Kurt Vonnegut »
« “Dr Kevorkian & the Suicide Machine”, the moniker of writer Jordan Reyne »
« Kevorkian Death Cycle is an electro-industrial band from Riverside, » same county as Desert Hot.
I am not convinced that I have had an actual relationship with any human being, except in the most nominalist, rudimentary, minimalist manifestation. I doubt that I have ever communicated anything substantive. Or that anyone has ever had true communication with me.
If I ever had experienced true communication, then I should have, by now, accomplished something worth having been accomplished; substantial sustained financial employment, never having consistent employment last a year: fifty two years of utter waste; I am such a failure that it might mean improvement just to reach mere malfunctional & dysfunctional.
You & Dad, as well as thousands of other persons, mostly other children in various schools on Long Island & in Maricopa County, had been extremely, physically, violent toward me throughout my childhood, somewhat into adulthood; you & Dad had each occasionally drawn blood. You have repetitively denied that any of this had occurred; but, it had. You had been the most consistently violent; Dad had been consistently physically violent toward you, & he had left it to you to generously pass it along to me: he gave it to you to give it to me in his behalf.
Dad did not have much time to be violent toward me as he had always needed the time to assault another beverage alcohol bottle in whichever town or whichever city.
One of the most violent acts that you & he had ever committed had been in 1965; on this specific day, this specific night, it had not been very much in the sense of physical violence. However, it did set the premise for sixteen years of physical violence, & half a century of domination, slavery, enslavement, emotional violence, psychological violence, my perpetual failure to ever accomplish anything, achieve anything, be anything, qualify as a human being, to live, to become live, to experience life, to be alive.
I am not certain whether it had been early 1965, spring, whether it had been summer, or whether it had been autumn. Whichever day or month, I had been five years old. You & he had brought me to my first twelve step experience: Alcoholics Anonymous, < http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/user:hopiakuta/_%e2%88%b4 >, < http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/user:hopiakuta/_totgeschwiegen >.
Now, in November, 2011, google, google plus, google minus, knol, has changed my name to « anonymous », < http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/anonymous >, though not < http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/anonymous_(group) >; forced anonymity upon me. But, they do not call me alcoholic[s].
They eventually reactivated my account, while simultaneously making recent news search far more difficult than they, google, had ever previously had it, and they keep trying to push some sort of secure search upon me, which does not seem to improve anything. Beginning in November, 2011, what is in the searchstring url no longer transfers to news search nor to map search.
They do continually revert my preference regarding:
« Do not filter my search results »
« Do not use Google Instant »
I do not like to have google on « https » forced upon me; when I need & want « …an end-to-end encrypted search solution between your computer,… » I do know how to achieve it. However, I do have absolutely no idea how to program « nosslsearch ».
And the individual person should have the liberty to choose whether their websearch is location specific; & no searchengine should insist that « Persina » is the same as « Persian », reference Mahmoud Farshchian, Mahmud Faršciyân, who is relevant to both words, of Isfahan, Persia, Isfahan, Iran, & New Jersey.
They have reinstated my identity, for the moment; but, I repeat that I certainly do not trust their policy: again, I do not trust much of anything, or I would not be writing about comparing google anonymity to Alcoholics Anonymous.
I do advocate occupygoogle, occupyyahoo!, occupygoodsearch; but, one the worst searchengine viruses, possibly the worst searchengine viral infection ever, is the askjeeves toolbar, ask toolbar, which strangles a webbrowser, internetbrowser, & never ever lets loose of it ever again.
Mom, You wonder why having brought me to Alcoholics Anonymous would be violent,… maybe I had been too young: no, that is not it. This had been violent because I had been too old, wonder you; well, it could have, if it had helped, helped more in 1962, 1963, 1964; but, that is not it, either.
Had it been violent because of bringing me into their, – your – , problems, consider you; no, that is not it: if you, they, had treated me more like someone who would help to solve something,…. ah, that would not happen, no one truly respects a child’s opinion.
If anyone were to trust my opinion now, then, likely, I would be hired for some task. So, my opinion is yet ignored.
So, you want to know what had been violent about it. Two characteristics, when you, they, brought Ed & myself to this meeting that are most important. One, an indication that this is something that Dad had located in the past several months, where I had learned in summer, 2011, that they had learned of this shortly after their marriage, your marriage, 1955, which had rarely, if ever been gay, certainly long before I had been björn [ sic: Yes, I did spell it that way. If that is a crime, then, I do, hereby, submit myself, subject myself, to execution &/or assassination. ].
Misdirection on when you had learned of twelve step had been violent, regardless of whether you had planned such deception.
The second violence in this meeting is the claim that it would improve anything, ever. Fifty one years, fifty two years since 1959; forty six years, forty seven years since 1965: zilch. This meeting had been in Huntington Village, Suffolk County; but, it had been the same in Maricopa County, Van Nuys, Hollywood & Los Feliz & Riverside County, as for the fraud or value of any twelve step meeting.
In the 1960’s I had kept wondering why this Alcoholic Anonymous project had not been improving anything; now, I learn in 2011, that you had both been failing @ it for several years.
It had not, after all of this, been Dad’s new discovery in 1965. Whether you had intended that message or not, it is just part of the betrayal. And it had not been until the third millennium for you to admit your alcoholism, several years ago; I had been convinced that for you, it had been other addictions, Alanon. Just one more example of my shmushed brain, drain rummage, uh, brain damage.
Oh, yeah, there had been a third violence @ this meeting: being subjected to tobacco; but, that secondhand tobaccowall I can also get in a grocerystore parkinglot or within two hundred feet of a casino, especially inside the mainhall, including in the restroom, restaurant, & the nonsmoking slotmachine room, where, maybe the slotmachines don’t smoke so much, @ least not tobacco. But, it does waft through. &, guess what I would have to walk through when my parents would lure me & leverage me into these places, the casino in Palm Springs, or the one on the Palm Desert – Rancho Mirage border. Guess what I would have to walk through to get to a restroom or paytelephone.
My parents have repetitively lured me to various casinos in order that I more thoroughly join more of their addictions, as if I am not sufficiently bankrupt.
Virtually everything twelve step has tobacco, the random average nonsmoke meeting has a tobaccowall in the parkinglot, on the sidewalk, @ the restaurant on one side, as well as the grocerystore on the other side. If I were to attempt a county bus, there would be more tobaccowall @ the busstop; additionally, people huff the cigar or cigarette outside the bus, then puff, exhale directly onto several persons’ faces, which is an absolutely fæces action. There is yet more in the crosswalk, or bypassing a vehicle stopped @ a trafficlight, or to stop for address directions, which are likely not correct. Ironically, the only true method to avert tobaccowall is absolute death. Therefore, tobacco is a contributing factor to suicidal tendency.
Further, I am a product of two twelve step parents, as is my immensely dead brother, younger brother, dead, younger brother; that twelve step works just so very well, I just do not know for whom. Go read his Riverside National tombstone in order to see how well serenity praying works; Ed & I have always been doomed as serenity prey, serenity predation, serenity predate, serenity prevaricate, serenity prevarication, since their 1955 wedding, marriage, my 1959 birth, Ed’s 1961 birth, three weeks prior to that of President Barry Obama, Second. Whereas all three are late baby boomers, note that Barry, the first, Barack, the First, had, usually, been too far away for his alcoholism to beat his son into being an irrelevant dustbunny. Ashwhole to ashwhole, dustbunny to dustbunny.
That year, 1955, is when Bill Griffith Wilson created a general service conference; he died in 1971 of pneumonia & emphysema, a tobaccowall twelve step disease. In 1950 Bob Holbrook Smith died of cancer, much like Ed & Dad, 2011, another tobaccowall twelve step disease. Each of them had certainly attended far more meetings than have I. I want mine.
Child abuse, child torture can convert the potential of a Barack Hussein Obama, the Second, into Ed’s tombstone, & whatever it is that I am. Or, Caylee Marie Anthony, Joe Lyle Menendez, Erik Galen Menendez, Ashley Billasano,…..
There are many issues regarding tobacco fire hazard issues, which have little to do with transit or attending an irrelevant meeting, but everything to do with communal housing. There are numerous alternative nicotine addiction supply gadgets, none are nearly as popular as a cigar, or its thinner variant, a cigarette.
I do, hereby, declare that I refuse to be assaulted by your serenity claim, or by a floorboard of any of your ( twelve ) steps, or by your « higher power », which means that your theism, theity, deity, theology, is eternally intoxicated, or your « hire power », which means that I am eternally unemployed, dustbunny.
I do, however, thank you for choosing Unitarian Universalism. Despite that thanks, I do wish that you had helped me to stop being beaten, by other children, who, as children, had been my most numerous abusers @ various schools, as well as @ 0109 Browns Road, Huntington Bay District, Huntington Unitarian Universalist Fellowship.
I do consider myself as an ignostic socialist Jewish Unitarian Universalist. I am agnostic as one who has chosen to doubt the existence as well as the form of any god &/or gods. I am ignostic as I am certain of it. So, agnostic, agnosticism is doubt, ambivalence; ignostic, ignosticism is firm belief in doubt, question, that we are not capable of knowing. &, atheism is nearly as violent & vicious as is theism, as it is yet a claim to know. Any such claim to know seems to be fraud.
I am socialist in that I believe that in every human being habitation there are each of socialism & capitalism, neither operates without the other; but, there tends to be excess capitalism, & meager socialism.
I do require disability access liberty in order to accomplish anything substantial, which is largely why this letter is necessary.
We should abolish the electoral college & corporate personhood, if we are to achieve democracy; I do, hereby, implore you to be an abolitionist. This nation is not democracy; though, I am not certain that any nation is.
On wiktionary & wikipedia, as well as elsewhere, there are various definitions, descriptions, arguments, interpretations, spellings, much like other subjects; but, I have chosen my interpretation. We each define a word, term or phrase, choose a spelling, or a punctuation, as well as pronunciation, grammar, per our experience. Which is how an old language, an old dialect, becomes a new language, dialect: we each advocate for style, as culture evolves.
If anyone advocates that ask & ax or axe are not the same word, so as to avoid performing a hatchet job on a proposed question, tell them that as an axe has recently been a guitar, it had once been an axle, &, in the sixteenth century ax & axe had been ask. So, that mispronunciation is not entirely a mispronunciation.
&, okay, many of the wiki definitions, wikimedia definitions, include terms beyond my comprehension, such as « noncognitivism » versus « cognitivism ». But, then, consider that hundreds, or thousands of persons have slammed my skull into a floor, wall, or other object, causing what I consider to be my shmushed brain.
Sometime in elementary school I had lost count of how many had punched, slapped, kicked me.
Of all of that torture, that I can even spell « suicide » is nearly a surprise, despite it having been one of my favorite words so early in childhood, one of the secret favorite words, in a smushed brain, shmushed brain, mushed brain, squished brain. I have always needed physical disability access, cognitive disability access, & emotional disability access or psychological disability access; I have waited half a century for something that simply is not there.
I am glad that you had chosen to not subject me to huge amounts of theism, such as Christianity, traditional Judaism, et al. It does seem that in 1960’s Huntington Station, Huntington Township, very little, if any, Islam [ Muslim ] had been available, which seems nearly to approximately as bad as Christian. However, you, Dad & Ed have exhibited much more Christianity in the past several years than I would choose; but, I am, again, pleased that imposing such a thing during my childhood is one abuse that you had avoided, one of the few.
< http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/inexorable >, < http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/exorable >: « exorable » is a capability of being moved or persuaded; but, « inexorable » is an inability to be moved or persuaded. However, that does include impossibility to stop, which implies kinetic force, motion, movement, which creates @ least one contradiction, oxymoron, oxymora, which is either autological, or autoillogical. I am an oxy moron, airhead.
There is literally no separation between theism, theology, religion, church, & state, commonwealth, Pennsylvania State University, Pennsylvania Commonwealth University:
« May no act of ours bring shame,« To one heart that loves thy name. « May our lives but swell thy fame,« Dear old State, dear old State. »
& the erotic portion:
« Ring the song with joy elate« Loud and long, loud and long. »
That school & commonwealth are sung like a god.
That is a liturgy; a literal theocracy. Showerroom communion; showerroom baptism: body & blood, don’t whine, cracker.
I do wonder about the nitwit notion to cat call a lyin’ lion pussycat that has pitched a tent in a paternòville happy valley up & down a happy beaver field, happy beaver stadium, a puny penny penis valley dripping into a bawled eagle creek. Many of my most incessant torturers have been athletes, wild sport world, football, baseball, basketball,…. So, I do come down hard on Pennsylvania, that did pull a Clinton. They should pay a huge bill, pop quiz.
State College should be state penitentiary, so long as we, this nation, retain our punitive system; University Park should be universally parked. Penn State should be state pen, commonwealth pen. If Pennsylvania, or any human entity, is to be punitive toward the underclass, then so should it be toward the overclass & powerful. As the bottom one percent, I am tempted to perceive a lot as overclass, especially an overclass school with so little class, & a state church. We should abolish punitive entities, corporate personhood, electoral college. Be an abolitionist.
Pennsylvania has promised to cross the line, or they do want to « hit » it, « strike » a « gait », & « score »:
« Fight on State, Fight on State,« Strike your gait and win. « Victory we predict for thee,« We’re ever true to you, dear old « White and Blue.« Onward, State, Onward, State, « Roar, Lions, Roar!« We’ll hit that line, roll up the score, « Fight on to victory evermore,« Fight on, on on, on, on, « Fight on, Penn State! »
One witness’ name is partially pronounced « queer ».
I do wonder whether the fact that « shoehedgie » Hillary Adams, Rockport, Aransas County, has celebrity & skill would mean that her existence would be a life, and to what extent she would abuse, torture, her children. I do hope that she can avoid the torture entirely.
Hillary Adams’ case may turn out well; but, someone should ask her & her children, as well as her children’s children, half a century from now.
Ashley Billasano successfully committed suicide, November, 2011; we cannot ask her children, as they shall never exist.
There is no way to know how things shall go for the paternòville children; but, some of them may be older than I am, as that case stretches into the 1970’s.
Things have not gone well for Joseph Lyle Menendez & Erik Galen Menendez.
No one can ask my children, as I have never had any; if I had had any, I, likely, would have tortured them, as my parents had, their parents had,…
My story is less like Ashley Billasano’s, & more like Hillary Adams’ story, more violence than sex; however, since everything else about me is a mess, so is my sexuality just as dysfunctional, malfunctional as is everything about me.
Icelandic Phallological Museum does have a pizzle, frozen, Icelandic, froze, Icelandic solid; but, not my Icelandic. An actual Icelandic Museum, literally.
Recently created islands include Surtsey, Iceland; Anak Krakatau, Indonesia; Warming Island, Uunartoq Qeqertoq, Uunartoq Qeqertaq, Greenland; Home Reef, Tonga Kingdom; near El Hierro, Eseró, Heró, Autonomous Community of the Canary Islands, Canary Island region, Islas Canarias, Canarian hotspot.
In some senses Caylee Marie Anthony is lucky, in that she need not learn the word « suicide », nor its concept. I learned the word « suicide » in 1963, & have procrastinated ever since. I do wish that my parents had killed me in 1962, or abortion in 1959. So, yes, there is at least one issue to envy Caylee about, though, certainly not much, regardless of whom or what had killed her. The specific manner in which she had died may have been horrifically excruciating, not to envy; I do not envy the manner in which she died, only the vague possibility that she had never had to want, nor need suicide
I am a fifty one year old, fifty two year old, man, who continues to to suffer the abuse that I had received half a century ago. And, due to the fact that my brother & father died in 2011, I squat in my father’s foreclosed house, a fifty two year old vaguely human dustbunny, ignored, irrelevant, bankrupt, frequently starving, homeless, suicide procrastinator, squatting in my father’s foreclosure. I do squat in this house; though, I have been incapable of squatting since the 1980’s. In the midst of, a few hundred feet from, several multimillion mansions.
If I am forced into a bore & scare prison, board & care torture facility, this nation could, the first time that I am subjected to involuntary tobacco, obtrusive noise, sentence me, my neighbors & roommates, to a death penalty. I need isolated housing, recluse.
I carry my parents’ violence in me @ all times. I am physically disabled, cognitively disabled, & emotionally disabled, psychologically disabled. The abuse can survive in a brain, in a skull, long after the abuser, the torturer, is dead, a corpse, with a tombstone, for forever. But, the abuse recreates itself in each subsequent generation.
I do not want to be forced between a choice of suicide versus homicide. To be more like Ashley may be better than to be more like Joe Lyle & Erik Galen; but, I am not certain what to choose. I do want an improved choice.
I have been trying to decide since 1963 whether to go the Ashley Billasano route. I am a cowardly suicide, much like the cowardly Pennsylvania Lion.
I do think that I might prefer the headline
« Disabled man successfully commits suicide in dead father’s foreclosed home in Coachella Valley, Desert Empire »,
rather than one that currently seems to be somewhat less honorable, such as
« Tobacco vengeance murder of roommate & neighbors in Coachella Valley, Desert Empire ».
Everyday I search desperately for a third alternative, finding none.
« Statement by The Pennsylvania State University Board of Trustees
« Tuesday, November 8, 2011
« The Board of Trustees of The Pennsylvania State University is outraged by the horrifying details contained in the Grand Jury Report. As parents, alumni and members of the Penn State Community, our hearts go out to all of those impacted by these terrible events, especially the tragedies involving children and their families. We cannot begin to express the combination of sorrow and anger that we feel about the allegations surrounding Jerry Sandusky. We hear those of you who feel betrayed and we want to assure all of you that the Board will take swift, decisive action.
« At its regular meeting on Friday, November 11, 2011, the Board will appoint a Special Committee, members of which are currently being identified, to undertake a full and complete investigation of the circumstances that gave rise to the Grand Jury Report. This Special Committee will be commissioned to determine what failures occurred, who is responsible and what measures are necessary to insure that this never happens at our University again and that those responsible are held fully accountable. The Special Committee will have whatever resources are necessary to thoroughly fulfill its charge, including independent counsel and investigative teams, and there will be no restrictions placed on its scope or activities. Upon the completion of this investigation, a complete report will be presented at a future public session of the Board of Trustees.
« Penn State has always strived for honesty, integrity and the highest moral standards in all of its programs. We will not tolerate any violation of these principles. We educate over 95,000 students every year and we take this responsibility very seriously. We are dedicated to protecting those who are placed in our care. We promise you that we are committed to restoring public trust in the University. »
The red ear slider turtle is « HopiaKuta »; the alleypussycat, « Sam », « Samantha », could be variously described as gold tabby, golden tabby, yellow tabby, blonde tabby, orange tabby, striped tabby, et cetera: furry purry.
Sam has, on several occasions, been intrigued by yoghurt residue remaining on a package safety seal. She has, sometimes, inserted her head deep into the yoghurt plastic beaker for more residue. She has, also, liked soup noodle, cracker, bread, raisin.
There is a tiny Pilipino pastry called « hopia », which is approximately the size of a nickel, quarter dollar, or turtle hatchling.
« The name “cooter” may have come from an African word “kuta” which means “turtle” in the Bambara and Malinké languages, brought to America by African slaves. [ wikipedia ] »
« Pseudemys is a genus of large, herbivorous, freshwater turtles of the eastern United States. They are often referred to as cooters, which stems from kuta, the word for turtle in the Bambara and Malinké languages, brought to America by African slaves. [ wikipedia ] »
« Kuta was the site of the October 12, 2002 1st Bali bombing (202 killed) and the October 1, 2005 2nd Bali bombing (26 killed). [ wikipedia ] »: Kuta, Bali, Indonesia.
So, « HopiaKuta » is a red-eared-slider turtle, red-ear-slider turtle, red eared slider turtle, red ear slider turtle; while « hopiakuta » is a screenname, & « kutahopia » is an alternative version.
They each bite & scratch.
< http://tortoise.org >;
< http://tortoise.org/general/4inch.html >.
I do perceive an inexorable kinetic force from my entering my father’s foreclosure house toward a bore & scare prison. I am in that house & predicament due to my parents having forced me into ParkWest trailerhome slumlord complex, where I had slept seven years five feet above a closed sewer cesspool cesstank sinkhole, which the very hour of my father’s death had become an open sewer cesspool cesstank sinkhole. After one night of sleeping in my father’s van, I slept in that open sewer for two weeks until a county inspector had evicted me, after which I had slept in, I am not certain now, either the same van, or a different one, which led my mother to instruct me to go to the foreclosed house. I do expect to be commanded to a bore & scare prison.
I had seen my father’s corpse less that two & a half months after my { [ ( younger ) ] } brother’s corpse: January, 2011 through March, 2011; peruse Riverside National. Ed Brian Persina, Edward Brian Persina & Frank Donald Persina, Francis Donald Persina, Frank Donald Boettjer, Francis Donald Boettjer.
This is the same house that my brother had slept in for the past few years until the day that he had entered Jerry Lyle Pettis Loma Linda Veteran Hospital, where he died one month later; this is, also, the last house that my father had owned that he had slept in when he had left for Palm Springs Desert Hospital, where he died a few weeks later. However, that stay @ Desert Hospital had been interrupted by a few days @ another nearby facility, & the night prior to sleeping in this house he had slept in another house that he had owned as well. He had recently left that other house for that same hospital, as well as various other hospitals, & a variety of clinics.
This is the house that Ed had, mostly, slept in since his stepchildren’s 2007 homicide & firebomb incident @ 66684 east Granada Avenue, which some news agencies reference as 66600 Granada Avenue, & which had sold on my birthdate, 2002.
Many Desert Hot addresses are six six six, triple six, beastmark; there are, as well, more Christian churches than someone could easily shake a Styx @. One church, or a double church, or two churches on Two Bunch Trail was | were built as a bilingual pair; they put a pair on two bunches of palms. I do wish that I could get a pair on two bunches of palms; but, not so much regarding churches. That could cause me to suicidally procrastinate yet further, adding to these fifty one years, fifty two years.
So, @ least two persons have slept in this house immediately prior to death, 66947 east Verbena Drive, one house away from where east Verbena Drive intersects south Verbena Drive, @ a water tower, as some street planner had thought that it is humorous to have a street intersect another street, crossstreet, of the same name.
I have always wondered where the grid street map zero point is. The water tower could be described as 66962 east Verbena Drive or 9704 south Verbena Drive. There is at least one nearby mansion that does seem to resemble a miniature palace. Immediately adjacent to the water tower ( water towers ) & mansions people chronically, continually abandon mattresses & tires. Maybe they are tired of their mattress, or prone to rubber the wrong weigh, a blowout.
A matrass is an alcohol lick flask.
If this kinetic force would force me into a bore & scare prison, then it is further inevitable that I would be subjected to tobacco & obtrusive noise, leading me & them to various actions: my being on either one side or the other of homicide is likely. Despite my desperate desire for an execution, death penalty, this is not a proper route to reach there.
So, Mom, there are numerous issues to describe, such as the various occasions that you chose to exclaim « don’t tell stories out of school », which I had learned since Dad had died had been an admonition metaphor which had been passed along by your parents to you; however, you would, as well, add calling me a Nazi, or brownshirt, claiming that only an Adolf Hitler youth would snitch on their parents.
I am opposed to all & any form of schutzstaffel, sturmabteilung, Hitlerjugend, jugendbund, jungmannschaften; however, I am, also, opposed to your totgeschwiegen attitude regarding your abuse of your son, your choice to equate your son to Adolf Hitler, a son that is a miscegenation, mestizo, mixticius, mixtus, product of Roman Catholic [ Christian ] ancestry & Jewish ancestry.
You had, on some occasions, said this, immediately prior to, or immediately subsequent to, slapping me several times, a slap session; possibly, you had been slap happy, several thousand times through some twenty one years, & wanted to pass the experience along.
Or, Dad, & others, had given you vicious cruelty, & that is what you had sought to pass along. Either way, I have no past to enjoy, nor a future to enjoy. I have no choice in either, neither a worthy past, nor a worthy future. You hold, contain each in your knuckles & palms, via the slaps, your toes, via the kicks. Yes, I can enjoy a taste, a food, a photograph, a newsstory, comedy, drama, as an isolated experience.
But, it is these sorts of isolated experiences that do tantalize me with the possibility to enjoy a larger experience, or, possibly, to truly experience joy. I am convinced that I have never truly experienced true joy, & never can. @ < http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/tantalize >, I’ve learned about « From Tantalus (Τάνταλος) in Greek mythology, who was condemned to Tartarus in the underworld. There, he had to stand for eternity in water that receded from him when he stooped to drink, beneath fruit trees whose branches were always out of reach. »
To never fully experience pleasure.
Your beating on me has created an emotional leash, a financial leash, permanently attached to my neck, where I have always been your & Dad’s slave, your plaything, your toy.
As horrific as these Adolf Hitler « don’t tell stories out of school » comments had been, possibly, if they had not been in the context of more beating, I might have been able to trick myself into believing another interpretation, as words can certainly vary to each of us. I might compare Arthur Bluethenthal & his relationship with a swastika; Solomon Perel; & such locations as Swastika, Ontario; White Settlement, Nova Scotia; White Settlement, Texas, or White Settlement, Tejas; Niggerhead Island, North Queensland, Australia; Fucking, Austria, where a resident’s demonym is Fuckinger, near Wank Mountain, Bavaria, Germany.
You have permanently ensured that I am what Adolf had called, in German, « useless eater », ostensibly « life not worth living »; but, my life never truly had been, as it is existence that I kill.
Mom, you often claim that I had been a perfect child; that seems nonsense to me. @ other times you say that I would dance & sing. Many ways to divert from the important issues; many ways to be dysfunctional, malfunctional: denial deeply. @ other times you claim that parents have the right to do whatever they want to do to their children.
That constitutes child as property, slave, no personhood, while a corporation has much more substantial personhood, & a disabled person has insubstantial, insufficient personhood, less than a corporation or a phœtus, fætus, which does cause me to feel like, & act like fæces. The fact that a disabled person, a « useless eater », votes, does not necessarily mean that she, he nor it has achieved three fifths personhood.
I am attempting to recall the years. 1977 – 1978, eighteen, twelfth; 1967 – 1968, eight, second.
1965 – 1966, it had been, likely, either Broadway Kindergarten, or Broadway Elementary School kindergarten, which, likely, would put it on Broadway; some cities refer to that concept as « Broadway Road ». I do not recall abuse, particularly substantial abuse, from the children there. I do think that the woman teacher got married this year; I do recall something about photographs thereof. Approximately when that first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting had been.
I do want to recall whether George William Kelly, the First’s Hamilton Lithography had been on Broadway; but, I am not certain. I have recently located paper declaring « Established 1954 »; his telephone number had been HAmilton-1-0410. Our telephone number @ one & a half houses to two & a half houses from Lenox Road & Fifth had been HAmilton-3-4046.
< http://knol.google.com/k/anonymous/i-do-hereby-inform-you-that-i-do/2ytmo4zm0vqfd/7# >; < http://knol.google.com/k/donfphrnqtaub-persina-persina/i-do-hereby-inform-you-that-i-do/2ytmo4zm0vqfd/7# >: In 2011, Darryl Powers & George William Kelly, Second, in my opinion, stole several hundred grand, my father’s business, & several motor vehicles, from Ed, my parents, & me. The vehicles that they did not steal, they stole either some or all of the keys.
1967, there had been snow several days ago, so it, likely, had not been summer; so, likely either early 1967, or late 1967. I am trying to recall whether it had been daytime, or nighttime; but, I had been wearing pajamas of whatever sort ( In 2011 I do not wear pajamas. ) My first time for my mother to kick me out, had been only as far as the walled breezeway; the fact that it did have walls, of insufficient insulation, outdoor siding, & thin indoor wood paneling, kitchenette, kitchen, & livingroom or diningroom on the west, garage on the east, did mean that there would be less wind than if no walls @ all. Very cold.
1966 – 1967, first grade. This had been Abe Lincoln Elementary School. Redbrick structure; very tiny playground, mostly asphalt or concrete, very tight chainlink fence. I do not recall substantial abuse there. I do recall running across the asphalt playground, seeing a bee in front of my nose, stopping as suddenly as I could, having been putting so much effort into running. Left ear canal, bee corpse, severe pain, some sort of clinic, ouch.
1967 – 1968, second grade, first of five school years years @ George Washington Elementary School. In each previous year you & Dad had been physically violent; but, this is where extremely severe child violence began, from the other children, other students.
During second grade, during school recess, class recess, I guess soon after lunch, I had found broken glass, likely of a bottle, on the playground; the second grade teacher put much effort into getting yellow construction paper & a safety pin to create a « good citizen award ». Thank You teacher.
During another class recess, also after lunch, same playground, same year as the glass incident, I was thinking about how the children would torture me in the lunchroom, on the playground, class recess, physical education class, @ the busstop @ the school, arriving & departing, on the bus, @ the Fifth & Lenox Road neighborhood busstop, arriving & departing, how you, Dad, & Ed would also abuse me, even though Ed had been younger,……..
I saw a blue cord, or small blue rope, a few feet long; I swung it around my neck, I am not certain with which hand, nor clockwise, nor counterclockwise, but, either way, I did wrap it around myself. Then, I offered each end to two of several boys nearby; to each I suggested « Here, you pull this end, » « And, here, you pull that end, » whereupon the schoolbell rang, they looked astonished, returned to class, & after several seconds, I followed. They all continued to abuse me throughout Washington Elementary, & Finley Junior.
1968 – 1969, George Washington Elementary School.
1969, my parents, Ed & I did go on many vacations, in Vermont, & Florida, throughout the 1960’s & early 1970’s. In 1969 we flew to a Miami, Florida, layover, & then San Juan, Puerto Rico, where we boarded Circle Line Carla C { three seize, not seven sees } for seven days of islands, other than Long Island. I do recall several occasions awakening between midnight & six a. m., 0600, & dragging myself to a kitchen or dining hall, & virtually any food I could think of, w/in five minutes there would be a huge platter of it on the table. Whereas much of the kitchen crew, as well as much of the ship, had been of Italy, I would need to read between the Italian lines in order to communicate. I did like those dining hall haul weighs. Many of my orders would be chicken, lemon meringue, pecan,…
I do recall ninety minutes in Caracas or Santiago de León de Caracas, Venezuela; in 1969 it had likely been Republic of Venezuela, República de Venezuela, not Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela, República Bolivariana de Venezuela.
Caracas had been my only moment beyond North America, other than that when in Hollywood I had several times visited consulates, in order to think of myself in the corresponding locations. I had, especially, done so regarding the Chinese Consulate many times in the 1990’s; often, I would walk past, on Shatto Place, near Westmoreland Avenue, Koreatown – Westlake District, stretch either my left arm &/or my right arm, & consider my hand to be in People’s Republic of China, which does give United States of Communist China America our orders via Kentucky Senator Addison Mitchell McConnell: « Americans don’t think higher premiums, higher taxes, and massive cuts to Medicare is reform. And they certainly don’t think it’s what we need at a time when one out of ten working Americans is looking for a job. And the Chinese are lecturing us about debt. We want to pass this staggering spending program at a time when many would argue our international bankers, the Chinese, are lecturing us about debt. At this time of economic crisis, we need to make things easier for people struggling out there, not harder. »: < http://google.com/search?q=%22chinese+are+lecturing+us+about+debt+we%22+%22%22+%22%22+%22%22 >.
As for Caracas, back on the ship my mother claimed that she had seen a soldier, possibly a police officer, w/ a machinegun, which I do not recall. I am not absolutely certain whether Ed & my father were onboard, or walking through Caracas with us. Likely that Ed had been with us, & that Dad had been emptying several bottles.
The second half of the tour had been in San Juan & Puerto Rico; the hotel had had various layered parking decks below. We had had an orange red Volkswagen, or red orange Volkswagen Beetle Bug Type One, rental car. In the hotel room my father handed me a camera & a key, said to put the first into the car.
I went down to the garage, loaded the camera inside the Adolf Hitler car, & returned to the room. Somewhere in one of the hallways, or in the elevator, I realized that I had not inserted the key into the doorlock; then, I recalled having seen other orange red cars, or red orange cars, for other San Juan tourists,….. Oops. Suddenly both pairs of cheeks clenched. I told my parents about my realization.
I expected to be swatted against the floor &/or wall; but, that did not occur: I had desperately wondered why. It had been the noughties | aughties, in Desert Hot, when this broken brain had finally realized the reason why I did not get punched, slapped or kicked on that day. We were in San Juan, Puerto Rico, I remind myself, as well as any reader. The closer to home, the more abuse; the further, the less. In each specific year the abuse is most likely in the location that is home that year. I do not know why it had taken me so long to recognize that obvious truth. Or, maybe I had known it much earlier; but, had forgotten that I had known it. Play an Adolf Hitler car tune, wondering about animation.
{ nought, noughty, noughties, millennia, millennium, aught, aughty, aughties }
What I now, further, recognize is that I should have, in either Caracas, or San Juan, or wherever, demanded a foster home, or whatever. I could have been Caribbean.
Alternatively, I could have killed one or both during elementary; not having done so, I have become a fifty two year old vaguely human dustbunny, ignored, irrelevant, bankrupt, frequently starving, homeless, suicide procrastinator, squatting in my father’s foreclosure. In the midst of, a few hundred feet from, several multimillion mansions.
I do wonder whether the fact that « shoehedgie » Hillary Adams, Rockport, Aransas County, has celebrity & skill would mean that her existence would be a life, and to what extent she would abuse, torture, her children. I do hope that she can avoid the torture entirely.
I do not want to recreate me in another generation; however, perusing child abuse stories amongst the underclass, middleclass & overclass, as well as news about various poverty, war, terror, torture, the upper one percent, the bottom one percent, the middle ninety eight percent, the fact that theology, theism, Christianity, Islam [ Muslim ] seem to control most government, in every nation, it does seem inevitable that more persons would be vaguely human dustbunny, ignored, irrelevant, bankrupt, frequently starving, homeless, a few hundred feet from several multimillion mansions, & torturing their children.
Or tossed into a bore & scare prison, murder their roommate, or an administrator.
< http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyle_and_Erik_Menendez >: Joseph Lyle Menendez & Erik Galen Menendez had waited ten, or more, years too late.
@ the bottom of this page, see how wikimedia could have gotten two Afrocaribbean disabled men, twin brothers, tortured & assassinated: < http://knol.google.com/k/anonymous/ed-persina-ed-brian-persina-edward/2ytmo4zm0vqfd/32 >, implying that they are a communist vandal communism vandal sockpuppet doppelgänger fraud. In the United States of America, United States of Communist China America, Confederate States of America, an Afrocaribbean disabled niggerhead can be executed rather easily.
These men have never known that wikimedia had targeted them; I have always, since 2006, wanted to tell them. Despite their Christianity, I have desperately wanted to help them.
One copy of this page had been rescued by a xenocidic genocider, who had abandoned me soon thereinafter; peruse the wiki historylog. { There is a good word list @: < http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/thereinafter >. }
The Afrocaribbean disabled twin brothers are Ian Baptiste & Deon Baptiste.
For half a century I have done my utmost to shout my loudest, @ the top of my lungs, to be totgeschwiegen, anonymous. I do wish that I could have been worthy of existence.
1969 – 1970, George Washington Elementary School.
1970 – 1971, George Washington Elementary School.
1971 – 1972, sixth, George Washington Elementary School. I do remember Missus Schwartz as the woman who would go on for a minute or two, several times in the year, saying something about how her lastname would be the longest such name with only one vowel, or some similar such claim, or whatever it had been. She is the one teacher who had punched &/or slapped me; however numerous other teachers knew about the children abusing me, torturing me. I do think that I had vaguely alluded to what my parents were doing to each other, & they, particularly my mother, had been doing to me.
Each of my five years @ Wash. Elementary had been one vicious physical education teacher, who did not specifically physically abuse me; but, he did have various forms of irrelevant collective punishment, such as to sit in a circle for fifty five minutes, in the gymnasium, facing inward. On other days it would be facing outward. He, that physical education instructor, had been severely dysfunctional, malfunctional.
He certainly did know that either in the boys’ lockerroom, or the gym during basketball, I was being beaten; especially, on the playground, football field, baseball field, beyond the sideline, I would be beaten by whichever boy or boys were not in play for that inning or whatever, so as to keep me from getting up to participate in any other manner than to be the one pummelled.
That man had abused me by permitting that abuse to be chronic.
During that five years, I had rarely played any actual basketball, football, baseball, et cetera, on the actual field.
In that era my father had coached & managed Huntington Kiwanis little league baseball, where the regulation had been that each boy would play a minimum of two innings per game; I do think that there had been two games where he had had me play nine innings through I do not know how many several years.
My younger brother, Ed Brian Persina had been the athlete who could play each of these; maybe he had been physical Ed.
My parents have joined Kiwanis, Elks, Moose, Rotary, Alcoholics Anonymous, Unitarian Universalism, Religious Science,…
In junior high school & high school I did do my utmost to opt out of all physical education. I rarely watch more than ninety consecutive seconds of any of anything athletic on television.
Some years earlier my intoxicated father had had a fight with my mother about his being, let’s call it « alcoholic obvious » or « alcoholic oblivious », as there is frequently no anonymity about it, @ our house @ Lenox Road & Fifth Street. He stumbled down the basement steps, & fell asleep on the basement concrete floor. My mother loosened his clothing as much as feasible.
Then she located a gold metallic spray paint can, & pointed @ several strategic, or is it tactical, anatomical locations. Until mere months, even weeks, prior to his death he said that when he awoke to search for a restroom, he had thought that he had become Midas.
Generally, when I have had such a choice, I have usually chosen metallic silver &/or metallic gold; although it did appear to be less metallic in the 1970’s, & moreso several years later.
In either 1971 or 1972 Missus Schwartz had instructed our class to make some art with macaroni noodle, & that we should bring spray paint to school, class, in order to spray paint each project. So, there I sat, front seat center, with my art project sitting on the desk – shelf – table attached to my chair, a chair style used by billions of children through the twentieth century & the third millennium. &, there is my gold metallic spray paint can.
@ the front, behind the teachers’ desk, is a blackboard, possibly a doubled blackboard; @ the rear is a bulletin corkboard. Suddenly Missus Schwartz begins to complain about a loose nail that attaches the bulletin board to the classroom wall. She glances @ my eyes, then my gold metallic spray paint can. Suddenly, I begin to cry, scream, cover my face & ears with my elbows; no, not elbow macaroni: « No, no, please, Missus Schwartz, no, please, stop,…. ». When I finally looked up @ the room back, there was gold exploding on the wall. Somehow, I received some sort of detention for my « just say no, please no » campaign.
Tom Jefferson served macaroni & cheese, which I do not consistently find to be edible; I do not always find that this | these consistently improves my constitution. Possibly, I don’t like it due to Missus Schwartz. However, in order to save money, I have eaten thousands of soup noodle packages; no, not so much the plastic, aluminum, cardboard, & styrofoam, thermocol, extruded polystyrene foam, the content: mostly noodle, chicken & shrimp.
As Missus Schwartz had been sixth grade teacher, I had had the fear that she, my parents, other children, including Ed, could torture me in one day.
We had had some choir event to sing « This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius;… Harmony and understanding; sympathy and trust abounding;…. » One of two fraud songs that we had been told to sing.
That has never occurred; we have harm & a money obsession, rather than harmony.
The other is « Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head. And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed, nothin’ seems to fit. Those raindrops are fallin’ on my head, they keep;… » appalling, they do keep appalling.
In sixth my flat feet had already become twelve or fifteen.
In June, 1972, the woman music teacher had had the gymnasium arranged for a very special purpose. The collapsible semipermanent wall had been pulled to stretch across the gym so as to split it into two gymnasia. The upright piano nearly abutted the flexible wall. Each sixth grade child was called in for an interview.
Eventually, it was my turn. I do paraphrase this quote: « Don’t ever attempt to sing. »
I am a « useless eater ». Sixth grade had been wondrous.
1972 – 1973, seventh, John Taylor Finley Junior High School.
@ some point a boy, a schoolmate, a classmate, testicularly kicked me; someone called my parents: my father arrived, decided that these circumstances warrant a clinic, much like the Scottsdale Hospital incident a few years later.
Somehow these incidents are different than what other students had done to me, or what my parents had done to me.
A doctor whispered something to my father, they refused to tell me what. I had always wondered about this would affect the effect of my testicles.
My parents spent enormous funds on toys for me; but, generally, they seemed to ignore what I would have wanted, needed, like any addictive dysfunctional malfunctional should do, where Ed did seem to get what he had wanted, though all 2011 it has been obsequy impossible to elicit any answer as to whether it had been his obsequious personality.
Sometime in the 1960’s or 1970’s one of the toys that I had not wanted, but did my best to convince myself to make the best of, to like, had been a plastic Air Force jet fighter aircraft, w/ a nosecone needle, nosecone spike, nosecone pin, in a bedroom closet, then, currently equipped with sliding doors, on plastic wheels in an overhead track.
In 1974, in Huntington Station, my mother was swatting @ me, using various objects, as I cowered in that closet. Eventually she happened upon this toy jet airplane, which resulted in slicing my left thumb web, between the left thumb & left forefinger.
After several minutes she demanded to know what the blood had been about; when she saw the broken thumbweb, she demanded that I exit the closet & bedroom, sit in the kitchenette, between the kitchen & diningroom or livingroom. That particular month the kitchenette had been furnished with a folding poker card table. She told me to sit in what had likely been a steel folding chair, as she sat in another.
She told me to lie my left hand on the table. She poured peroxide &/or isopropyl, as I winced, whimpered; my hand curled, flinched.
« Flat, I said flat, keep your hand flat, » as a fist connected upon my knuckles several times over.
In 1974 the four of us had spent several years adding a thirty by twenty extension to the Lenox Road & Fifth house; there had been several months when the only wall for one portion of the hallway had been a translucent plastic tarp [ neither troubled asset relief program, nor temperature air reduction project ].
The first floor, now, had had a brand new elaborate three by six hearth fireplace, with a double flue, in order to accommodate a basement fireplace. This huge house extension, compared to the original basic house, included a second basement fireplace, with a six by six hearth, all redbrick.
During this enormous construction, with two huge fireplaces, my parents brought Ed & me into the basement. My father grabbed a stick, twig, beam, or moulding, some sort of wood, & proceeded to inscribe the names Frank, Norma, Don, & Ed into the moist cement, concrete.
My parents very carefully explained that, in light of all of this work through the past several years, Ed & I would receive this house several years from now, as adults. Each of the four of us has been a dolt; I don’t know whether my parents could con Crete, but, they certainly did con us.
They treated each of Ed & me as a fule { An anagram, near homophone, f/ you to homophile aweigh. }.
« Füle is a village in Fejér county, Hungary. » Hungry f/ fuel.
A couple of months after the cement ceremony, my parents suddenly announced that we were moving to Greenlawn, meaning that their promises were trapped in the basement concrete.
1973 – 1974, eighth, Greenlawn Oldfield Junior High School.
So, we began attending Oldfield, or Oldfields, as the four of us toured several houses; I did like many of these houses, particularly the one which my parents had claimed that we were closest to purchasing. However, it would be the 1980’s before I would learn about issues regarding a walkingcane, wheelchair, or other disability access.
I have never been inside of the Huntington High School building, nor the Greenlawn High School building; but, I did want to attend there. Greenlawn Village did seem to be a nice trade for Huntington Station & Huntington Village, particularly since each is in the midst of central Huntington Township.
But, of course not; not with my parents: so, I spent a year terrified that someone would learn that my address is not my address. With all of the abuse from my parents, as well as Washington Elementary & Finley Junior, there had been far less torture @ Oldfield. Most of their abuse had been of the « kick me sign » variety.
And they did nickname me, based on the fact that my shoes & boots tended to be of the twelve, thirteen & fifteen variety, & my pants did not always cover my ankles properly, « Boots ». I did spend several years trying to convince myself that that had been my name; but, I was not very successful @ it.
I am no longer capable of wearing boots, shoes, sneakers, as in 1972, 1973, 1974, my ankles began to discolor, worsening each year, with an excruciating deep in the skin, deep in the muscle, sort of itch. By the 1990’s just to look at a sock, shoe, sneaker or boot, would cause me to flinch. Several doctors have prescribed medical compression support socks, stockings; but, they merely increase the itch & pain.
In the 1980’s I would frequently spend hours pouring hand lotion onto my ankles in order to leave my apartment, in addition to any complexities of trying to walk on painful joints, ostensibly myofascial, needing a wheelchair &/or walkingcane, it has frequently been impossible to accomplish anything.
1974 – 1975, ninth, Carll Smith Burr Road Junior High School; house, east Cedar Road, Commack – East Northport, Huntington Township, Long Island.
In 1974 we moved from sixty one east Fifth to 160 east Cedar Road, East Northport District – Commack District, near Elwood District, & near Smithtown Township. At the northwest corner of Cedar Road Elementary School are three houses, the middle had been ours. I confirmed the name via google, the internet, as since it has the same name as the street, I had not been certain. The closest that I can recall being to the building as I typewrite right now is having looked at the windows.
As the property to the east had been several feet shorter than ours, the school playground had wrapped around that house to abut our yard.
I did get many more beatings @ Burr Junior; but, it was not as bad as @ Washington Elementary, Finley Junior, or Commack North, or in Maricopa County, Paradise High or Chaparral High.
In 1974, in East Northport, my mother kicked me out, one of many times; I wandered around Commack in extremely cold weather through one night. In the morning, a couple hours prior to dawn, I happened upon a used car lot, where one vehicle was not locked. I vaguely recall that it might have been a Pontiac Trans Am; but, whatever it had been, it had had a detachable sunroof. I made the mistake of trying the latch, & it did not reclose; that had been very cold.
At other times, @ East Northport, my mother would time coming down the steps, while I was coming up the stairs, so that she could kick my knees & shins. If you have ever had a similar experience, then you would have known that it is virtually impossible to escape such a trap.
On another occasion I had hitchhiked through much of Nassau County searching for some counselor or social worker or whomever; one man proudly announced that several months ago he had been knifed by a hitchhiker. But, I was sitting in his back seat.
In 1975 there had been a day when my mother had kicked me out six times in twenty four hours, each time having a Suffolk County police officer, or my father, or my father’s employee, a security supervisor, security officer, I do think that he might have been « Bill », not Wilson, Airborne Investigation & Protective Service, Airborne Security & Investigation,……. search me out, trap me, haul me back.
Six times, twenty four hours. A few days later, I managed to have myself placed in foster care, a foster home in Riverhead, which is known as the county seat.
Ninety minutes later the social worker returns to retrieve me, on the absurd parental accusation that I had been a tuberculosis carrier. Obviously, the social worker knew that this had been fake tuberculosis, on the theory that I had spent four minutes in a house where a cousin had been. Neither my parents nor the social worker had thought that I had been contaminated, infected. That is simple to prove.
I do not claim to be a cartographer, nor geographer, nor much of anything good; but, I do have a vague impression that along the route from Riverhead to East Northport are several colleges & hospitals. That social worker did not even look at one of those on that trip.
Someone likely has a count of how many hospitals had been in Suffolk County, Long Island, in 1975. There are other options to stress that point. So, then add those of Nassau County, & New York City. Or Upstate New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Suffolk City & County, Virginia Dare Commonwealth, Rhode Island [ & it’s mainland Providence Plantation ], Connecticut, Boston, Suffolk County, Massachusetts,…..
Or any tuberculosis clinic, anywhere.
I do wonder how many other ways there are to stress that that Suffolk County social worker never brought me to any tuberculosis diagnosis hospital. Suffolk County Social Service has never been thoroughly audited; no subsequent social worker has ever tracked me to ask whether I have been treated for mythological tuberculosis. No one has approached in Maricopa County, Lackland Air Force Base, Los Angeles County, nor Riverside County, in order to stop me, this horrifically cruel Mary Mallon of 1975 – 2011, from spreading my terrifying tuberculosian aerobic mycobacterium throughout Earth.
« About 90% of those infected with Mycobacterium tuberculosis have asymptomatic, latent TB infection (sometimes called LTBI), with only a 10% lifetime chance that a latent infection will progress to TB disease. However, if untreated, the death rate for these active TB cases is more than 50%. [ from a wiki article page. ] »
Well, so that settles it; I must commit suicide, in order to save all of you from my germ.
Well, I do have « chronic cough ».
That other Mary Mallon died on Veterans’ Day, 1938, Riverside Hospital, North Brother Island, New York Harbor, New York City { My brother & father each landed @ Riverside National in 2011; but, they do not know that. }. She had been a 69 year old cook of Cookstown Townland.
If I had killed that social worker in that car in Smithtown Township in 1975, I would, likely, be much better off today. « Give me disability access liberty or give me suicide or homicide. » Pat Henry & John Henry, as well as James Maury & Peter Lyons { much like a Pennsylvania lyin’ peter } each gained fame via « Parson’s Cause », which involved tobaccowall, Christianity, government theology, each of which I contend to be oppressive.
Your & Dad’s actions did either cause &/or contribute to my disability, disabilities; however, even moreso I blame Suffolk County Social Service. Suffolk County government is culpable for believing your ridiculous tuberculosis ruse; that social worker had been bribed & extorted, & he should have been murdered, by me, in 1975, in that Suffolk County car. I would, likely, never have been required to go to Arizona; I would not be in this room, in this house. This letter would not, now, exist.
This is one of several social workers who had told me that if in response to you, I would hit back, that I would be imprisoned. I should have, very much more directly so.
Such a fantasy that that is, to have been a New York State inmate. To have been murdered there. To never having been required, involuntarily, to have been on Verbena Drive, Hoylake Road, Estrella Avenue, Asher Drive, Pierson Boulevard, Desert Cove Avenue, Shea Boulevard, Bell Road, or @ 2243 [ South ‽ ] River Drive, Laughlin, Vegas, Clark. Since 1975, since 1959, I have accomplished no value. If only I could have been dead, truly dead, completely dead, before Arizona, 1976, or before 1963,….
1975 – 1976, tenth, Commack High School North, Townline Road, @ Cedar Road, juncture of Huntington Township & Smithtown Township.
1976, tenth, Commack High School South Summer School, fully within each of Commack District & Huntington Township. In the 1960’s & 1970’s many township published brochures read « Huntington Township » or « Township of Huntington », @ Townhall, Huntington Village.
There was not even one beating @ Commack South, likely because as summer school, they were mostly wanting to get the classes over & done with, & there had been a much smaller student body, & the class times had been less synchronized.
There is a website & webpage {< http://angelfire.com/folk/commack >}, that has popups & cookies, that claims that Commack South « …opened in 1968 and closed twenty years later in 1988,… »
Then my parents decided that we were moving to Paradise Valley District.
I would never see Fifth Street, Lenox Road, Huntington Station District, Huntington Bay, Huntington Beach, Huntington Village, Greenlawn Village, Northport Village, Long Island { the actual island }, Long Island Sound, New York State, New England, Riverhead, Hampton, Montauk, Orient, Huntington Park Lake or Huntington Park Pond [ duck ], Huntington train depot of Huntington Station District, ever again. { Depot Road does not exactly quite reach the train depot. }
1976 – 1977, eleventh, Paradise Valley High School, Paradise Valley District, north of Paradise Valley Town. At Paradise High & Chaparral High I got very similar beatings to Washington Elementary, Finley Junior, Commack North, & either the same, or slightly worse than @ Burr Junior.
We moved to a house in Paradise Valley District, then, the mortgage was canceled; so, in a couple of months, we moved to Sixty eighth & 6725 east Desert Cove Avenue, Scottsdale, in a slip or sliver of Scottsdale between Paradise Valley District, Phoenix, to the north, & Paradise Valley Town to the south.
Paradise High had been my first experience with a school where most of the hallways have no roofs & few walls; due to someone’s ridiculous fantasy that rain, cold, wind, sun & heat do not happen at any of the schools in Scottsdale & Phoenix.
Now, I was @ a school that I had despised, as virtually everything about the architecture had been horrific, physically, visually, geographically, & in any way that words have not been coined for, & it had been about as violent as any school, ever,….
Yet, I had been back in the same predicament as I had been in @ Oldfield, in terror that someone would learn my address, further destroying my education. This terror had been further magnified on the day that I had been required to drive home, to the house, with the school driving instructor.
My tension was likely a contributing factor to that he had thought that I had been one of the worst, or the worst, ever. His fear of my driving caused him to want to get to his home as fast as feasible; so, he did not pay a lot of attention to what city we had been in, so long as he could get away from me quickly. I do think that he may, as well, have been my mathematic teacher, as well as an athletic coach; though, I am not certain.
Remember, due to everything at Washington Elementary, I have, ever since, avoided any physical education class.
There was one occasion at Desert Cove Avenue when you had been beating me, and, not having any escape, I put my right elbow through a window pane, in my bedroom, trying to find a way to either climb, jump, or to scream.
You attempted to strap my ankles w/ a bedsheet. Then, you called Ed into the room, and you tied my legs & arms. Then, you grabbed my leather, possibly suede leather, fifteen shoe, w/ the enormous plastic, artificial rubber sole, as in the era when I could wear a shoe, boot, or sneaker, this had frequently been the only style available, ten through, however high the sizes go.
Although you never wore either of these shoes on your feet, you did exactly what that boy at Finley Junior had done; but, you repeated, & again,…… Same testicularity, different county, different state, different shoe, or different boot.
1977 – 1978, twelfth, Chaparral High School, Gold Dust Avenue, Scottsdale, between Paradise Valley District & Paradise Valley Town.
At Chaparral High I received the same beatings as at the other schools; but, the campus had been slightly prettier than @ Paradise High; Chaparral did seem to be newer.
In February I joined the Air Force, then received a General Equivalency Diploma from Mesa Community College, then quit Chaparral, which I describe further, below. Then, Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio.
I had thought, until a couple days after Ed’s death, January, 2011, that he had remained with Paradise; in January, I found a Chaparral diploma. An absolutely dysfunctional, malfunctional family. Realizing that I did not have the slightest idea what school he had graduated is just one of trillions of facts that overwhelm my shmushed brain.
An epitome of an addictive home for siblings to not know what school each other is attending.
Currently, google map includes each of these, which I do not recall ever having seen:
« Chaparral Suites, Scottsdale, AZ »;
« Chaparral Park, North Hayden Road, Scottsdale, AZ »;
« Chaparral Christian Pre-School, East Shea Boulevard, Scottsdale, AZ »;
« Chaparral Elementary School, East Gold Dust Avenue, Scottsdale, AZ ».
I do wonder whether my brain is so smushed, shmushed, mushed, squished, that I could not recall « Chaparral Elementary School, East Gold Dust Avenue, Scottsdale, AZ », or whether it is new, & I did knot knew.
« High Chaparral is a racehorse, » Ireland.
« High Chaparral is a Wild West theme park located close to Värnamo, Sweden. » 1966.
« High Chaparral » starred an actor who divorced a Farmer who died in a Fishers & may have said « I’d prefer a bottle in front of me », & may not have explored Iceland nor Greenland. Ice repeat: Icelandic Phallological Museum does have a pizzle, frozen, Icelandic, froze, Icelandic solid; but, not my Icelandic. An actual Icelandic Museum, literally.
In autumn, 1977, on several occasions, I did trade sex for forty cent food. I do recall one of the many days when I had been kicked out, by my mother, as usual, I wandered. Eventually this wander must have, aimlessly, turned west, I must have dragged myself through either Paradise Valley District or Paradise Valley Town, although I had walked through each on other occasions. I must have crossed Central Avenue, as I had been most of the way to Glendale, Arizona. I do recall being on the north side of some street, I am not certain which one. I turned further northbound on Nineteenth something,……..?? East of Central Avenue the dominant designation for vertical, north & south streets is some combination of Street, Place, Way; west of Central Avenue it is largely Avenue, Drive, Lane.
So, it was Nineteenth Avenue, Nineteenth Drive, or Nineteenth Lane, I suppose. I was on the north sidewalk, turned further north, on the east side sidewalk, while on the west side I saw what seemed a relatively tiny warehouse with two truckbays. As it had been autumn, dusk, one of the men knew exactly what to say, something like, « Are you hungry? » I wandered west across the street, & in several minutes I was in the front seat of a pickup truck, several more minutes & I was entering a house that seemed so old that I would not be entirely surprised to learn that it had been from the nineteenth century, although I no longer have even a guess what street it had been on.
Traversing the front door threshold, I saw, on the right of the livingroom, a brown or black circle on the floor, as I wondered for a few seconds, suddenly that mark was covered with an electric hotplate. Everything that had happened for the past half hour had been planned with precision, starting with « Are you hungry? ». In several very fast forward moments I found a paper plate loaded with beans in my grip. Then, what seemed to be a huge group of men, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, I never truly counted, began to file off for appointed bedding.
Someone gestured me toward a room. I saw a tiny boy on the bed, who, I wondered, had been either asleep, or pretending so. I was told to strip. Next to this boy somewhere between one year old & ten year old, I, suddenly, semiconsciously, found that I had been trading my anal virginity & oral virginity for a bean paper plate.
That boy either remained asleep, or pretended so.
Also in 1977, several teenagers of Phoenix Liberal Religious Youth, Phoenix Unitarian Universalist Church, Lincoln Drive, Paradise Valley, invited me to a mountain adjacent to Squaw Peak, now named for Lori Ann Piestewa ( Peak ), of which I am not certain that I can pronounce « Piestewa », though I think that I might do better with « Kocha-Hon-Mana Peak », « Squaw Tit Mountain Peak », « Phoenix Mountain Peak » and « Vainom Do’ag Peak »; there, on that other pique, peak, summit, I was handed a marijuana joint, despite my general rejection of nicotiana tobacco, as compared to cannabis, marijuana. I do oppose any involuntary secondhand smoke, as well as involuntary fire hazard via cannabis marijuana or nicotiana tobacco.
In February, less than two months after turning eighteen years old, during another out kick, or kick out, I lied to a Scottsdale Air Force recruiter about marijuana cannabis, as well as homosexual activity, which contributes to my self categorization as bisexual, ʻbye&cellsexual, fabglitter. I spent one month & eighteen days from signature to discharge, including Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Tejas.
That one & a half months may have been my least violent forty seven days in twenty one years, or, even, in some sense, in fifty two years, as no one had slapped, punched, kicked me for nearly two months, &, there was no such threat, &, I knew that I would have food while on base. In some sense that may be the premiere month that I have ever had; there, that is a suicide purpose. If, however, I would count such abuse as yelling, screaming, ordering to do tasks that I am not capable of, yes, those sorts of abuse I did receive heaps of @ Lackland.
Not one slap, punch, kick, threat of food lack, @ Lackland. Several years subsequent to Lackland I had been @ Westmoreland Avenue, Koreatown Westlake District, Southeast Hollywood. Lackland does not ≈ Westmoreland; Lackland ≠ Westmoreland.
I am trying to to decide how « Squaw Peak » compares as a name to those such as « Swastika, Ontario », « White Settlement », in Tejas or Nova Scotia, « Niggerhead » in any location, what a German mountin’ does to an Austrian village, et al.
During the subsequent few years after Chaparral & Lackland I had attended Scottsdale Community College, Phoenix Community College, or Phoenix College, Arizona Western College or Arizona Western Community College, Yuma County, Los Angeles Valley College or Los Angeles Valley Community College, Van Nuys District & North Hollywood District, & Phoenix Job Corps. I received extensive abuse, torture, @ Arizona Western & Phoenix Job Corps, & no employment, no job. I am ineducable.
But then, my twelve step brother had been very educable, Ed Brian Persina, in the Navy Department, Marines, various other employment, until forty nine & a half, such successful education, to earn a tombstone diploma. @ Riverside National University students check in without checking out the accommodation, as they’ve already checked out; Veteran Affairs, or Veterans’ Administration, in 1978, erected a fence because people are dying to enter, which is very grave. Happens to be the same years as my Air Force, well, I do wonder whether I should say « Air Force career ».
I am not quite dead; but, except in the purely biological perspective, I have never been quite alive either. That is true in various other ways, including the government minimum living standard, which I have never met. Also, various persons’ attitude toward me, my physical disability, cognitive disability, & emotional disability, psychological disability. I have never felt entirely comfortable, qualified as a human being.
Many people do despise me; I agree.
In 1978 the Defense Department, National Military Establishment, Lackland Air Force Base published my 214, where it declared me to be « marginal performance: unadaptable to military life ». It has turned out that I have never been adaptable to any life @ all, whatsoever; I do say that I reside, not live, I exist, not live. Not live, live, life, living, lived, alive. Never had it; never will. I do exist, momentarily. I stink; therefore, I am, momentarily.
There is a livingroom in this house; I am told that I do have a liver: I am, purely, merely, in a biological perspective, alive. In the 1970’s there had been one specific time when Ed had kicked me, whereupon, someone, possibly my parents, decided to bring me to Scottsdale Community Hospital, where further, a nurse or doctor, or someone, had claimed that I had had a « horseshoe kidney », which no subsequent nurse or doctor has confirmed. I do await my autopsy impatiently; though, I do not have authority to witness it.
Possibly this kick had been worse than any other slap, punch or kick, as my parents had not authorized it; I cannot guess why this had qualified hospitalization, even for an hour, when, where my parents had put so much effort into slamming my skull since birth.
Where thousands of persons, mostly other children, had contributed their efforts @ Washington Elementary, Finley Junior, Burr Junior, Commack North, Paradise High, & Chaparral. So, horseshoe kidney, not kidding you; but, I do not know whether Scottsdale Hospital had been kidding me. Same pattern @ Finley Junior.
I do, very much, desperately, want to live; but, that infeasible, I do prefer to not merely exist. I do prefer disability access liberty, if that were feasible. I would like to be employed @ something; but, someone, somewhere, has decided to prohibit that.
I found a horseshoe kidney in « the west’s most western town », which is a complete fraud motto; whereas, in the same era they prohibited new corral construction. That’s right: no corrals in Scottsdale; or, that’s the law as stated in the 1980’s.
I am chronic fatigue, obsessive compulsive, myofascial. I have been on Social Security Disability since 1985, retroactive to 1982.
Mom, In October, 2011 you gave me photocopies, pages 353 to 379, plus three introduction pages, twenty nine pages, « Wild Wheel » by Garet Garrett. According to a wiki biography his birthname is Edward Peter Garrett, 1878–1954. He had been a friend to Bernard Mannes Baruch; but, also an icon somewhat akin to John Morrison Birch.
In that first several minutes of seeing that document I had told you that Henry Ford had sponsored publication of « International Jew », & that it had been rather confusing about the other three hundred pages; however, I did, with you, read much of this document.
« International Jew » seems to have appeared in various formats, booklets, pamphlets, newspapers,…. Hank & Adolf Hitler do seem to have admired each other.
I have read the other pages in November, 2011, close in time to reviewing much of his biography. Per several websites, « Wild Wheel » seems to have been a book, approximately 220 pages. Regardless of how many pages, that is a fascist tract, which is rather ironic, considering that you had repetitively admonished me « don’t tell stories out of school », & equated me with Adolf Hitler youth. And you had completely shrugged off the « International Jew » fact.
Despite that, I can say that I believe in free enterprise, capitalism, if I am permitted the definition. This is my letter, so, my choice, especially if this is one of my last several documents.
If free enterprise & capitalism are that a person can create something & sell or trade it for something else, particularly cash or credit card, including an idea or activity, et cetera, then that sort of definition is one that I do support; so long as I am also permitted to support socialism, which is that business & overclass do owe something to middleclass & underclass, as well as government. The overclass need someone to purchase their product, & to be a salesperson. They, also, need government to ensure that other people don’t steal their entire warehouse, particularly some far off government that might come to visit for some friendly larceny. Such as a government from several thousand miles away, that refuses most of metric system measure, and wants all of the fossil fool fuel, via an army. There are so many of those.
Mom, We do know about George William Kelly, the Second, & Daryl Powers stealing several hundred grand. As well as about no government investigation. That is my impression, my opinion of the past year.
I, with my shmushed brain, cannot recall any society where there had been capitalism without socialism, nor any with socialism without capitalism. In every socialist nation, someone sells something; in every capitalist nation, government subsidizes something. Everywhere.
Capitalism relies on socialism & socialism relies on capitalism. What society needs to do better is to balance the two, & decide more effectively, more efficiently, how much of each. Too much of either, excessive amounts of either one is extremely hazardous to everyone, including dangerous to democracy, republic, liberty, free speech, or anything else worth having.
Ed died in January, 2011; Dad died less than two & a half months later, March, 2011. Neither disease had, ostensibly, begun as lung cancer; however, in each case, it is difficult to ascertain just how much it had spread, especially since even in the most perfect case, no doctor could absolutely guarantee just how far any disease has spread. If they were to literally test an entire body, that would mean putting every cell onto a microscope slide, & such dissection would kill everyone.
I do conjecture that they had died, particularly Ed, due to the actions of various employers, as well as various risks which are to varying degrees difficult to avoid.
Amongst other factors, they did spend a lot of time @ various casinos, & what I refer to as tobaccowall does pervade the mainhall, the nonsmoke rooms, the sidewalk, the street, for hundreds of feet out from the doors. The tobaccowall at the casinos, & @ every grocerystore parkinglot, & @ busstops should be abolished.
I, further, conjecture that part of what had killed Ed is his tendency to seem to be complaisant. His opinion did seem to shift in reaction to whom he had been with. He did seem to have conflicted comments, for instance, particularly regarding healthcare politic. When he was with Dad he would seem to want little, if any, healthcare revision. And, as it has turned out, what little improvement we have had has been far less improvement than I would want or need, &, possibly far less than Ed might now want if he could look, retrospectively, @ the past year.
In some small measure he might have obsequioused himself into obsequy, funereal. And so might I, likewise, if I do successfully suicide myself. Compliant to you, that would be my final act of « telling stories out of school ».
I am a member of the bottom one percent; I am underclass: my parents put me here, blocked every escape, by causing or aggravating myofascial, other physical disability, cognitive disability, & emotional disability, psychological disability.
But, Suffolk County Social Service welded the door shut when I was fifteen years of age, in 1975.
< http://knol.google.com/k/anonymous/ed-persina-ed-brian-persina-edward/2ytmo4zm0vqfd/32# >.
A pet page: < http://knol.google.com/k/anonymous/title/2ytmo4zm0vqfd/30# >.
DonFphrnqTaub Persina
« »
Please, someone, help.
Comparing my case to that of Hillary Adams, there are differences & similarities,…:
< http://youtube.com/user/shoehedgie >;
< http://youtube.com/watch?v=Wl9y3SIPt7o&feature=channel_video_title >;
< http://occupywallst.org/forum/a-desperate-plea-for-an-alternative >;
From a « shoehedgie » Hillary Adams statement:
« Uploaded by shoehedgie on Oct 27, 2011
« 2004: Aransas County Court-At-Law Judge William Adams took a belt to his own teenage daughter as punishment for using the internet to acquire music and games that were unavailable for legal purchase at the time. She has had ataxic cerebral palsy from birth that led her to a passion for technology, which was strictly forbidden by her father’s backwards views.
« The judge’s wife was emotionally abused herself and was severely manipulated into assisting the beating and should not be blamed for any content in this video. The judge’s wife has since left the marriage due to the abuse, which continues to this day, and has sincerely apologized and repented for her part and for allowing such a thing, long before this video was even revealed to exist.
« Judge William Adams is not fit to be anywhere near the law system if he can’t even exercise fit judgement as a parent himself. Do not allow this man to ever be re-elected again. His “judgement” is a giant farce. Signed, Hillary Adams, his daughter. »
That is Rockport, Aransas County.
Comparing my case to that of Hillary Adams, there are differences & similarities,…:
My parents had drawn blood a few times; I do not know whether hers had.
My experience had been in the 1960's & 1970's, slightly into the 1980's & early adulthood: I am weeks away from fifty-two.
I am a man; she is a woman.
She had been palsy diagnosed; until the 1980's no doctor would even offer me a potential diagnosis, whether for a physical disability, or an emotional disability, psychological disability. Suffolk County Social Service, Long Island, had placed me, for ninety minutes, into a foster home in Riverhead; that is not the same as the governor's most famous word, his head hunt lodge, something like neverhead. My parents used a ridiculous alibi to remove me from foster care, something about fake tuberculosis; so fake that nearly half a century later, no tuberculosis test, no tuberculosis quarantine. Unless I am some tuberculosis carrier. I did need more beating in Huntington & Maricopa County, Arizona.
I, also, spent one month & eighteen days in the Air Force, Lackland, San Antonio, near where her parents would be.
My younger brother & father died this year, 2011.
She is gorgeous; my photograph is linked, but, no one should be forced to be subjected to that.
Her bedroom had been much nicer than any one that I had ever had.
In the 1960's & 1970's the concept of videocamera had been vastly different, &, I doubt that that I would have had either the the money or intelligence to obtain one, or to successfully hide it.
My father had also been into law enforcement, powerful on Long Island, in Maricopa County & Riverside County.
I do wonder whether her parents' long past actions, & current acts, domineeringly dominate her every thought, despite wherever she might go.
She has not wanted immediate death since 1962, she has not planned her suicide since 1963; I do procrastinate excessively. I am a cowardly suicide.
I do wonder whether she has an increasing incessant horrific terror of being forced into a board & care prison, a bore & scare prison, then being subjected to tobacco &/or obtrusive noise, leading to a battle of various sorts. Is she horrified by any corollary thought, fear, terror? Is she terrorized by the prospect of close in habitation? Does she, however, welcome the prospect, potential, of a death penalty, execution, an opportunity to, finally, escape from this half century plus two, plus three, plus four, plus five, perpetual torture?
I am not quite dead; but, except in the purely biological perspective, I have never been quite alive either. That is true in various other ways, including the government minimum living standard, which I have never met. Also, various persons’ attitude toward me, my physical disability, cognitive disability, & emotional disability, psychological disability. I have never felt entirely comfortable, qualified as a human being.
Even google, google plus, google minus, contends that I do not exist, despite my having offered ample proof of identity:
« Your profile is being reviewed
« Thank you for submitting your profile for review. Your profile will be reviewed again to see if it complies with our Names Policy. Reviews are usually completed within a few days. In the meantime, you have full access to Google+ and all other Google services.
« If the review is successful, this message will disappear and you can continue using Google+. Otherwise, you’ll be informed that the review was unsuccessful and provided with further instructions.
« We understand that Google+ and its Names Policy may not be for everyone at this time. We’d be sad to see you go, but if you do choose to leave, make a copy of your Google+ data first. Then, click here to disable Google+. »
If I were executed, then they might approve my identity, along with some of the other websites that have rejected it. Or not. I do wish that they would offer a telephone number for me to explain my identity. I am a member of the bottom one percent.
Thank You,
DonFphrnqTaub Persina
•A desperate plea for an alternative. (User Submitted) Posted Oct. 15, 2011, 8 a.m. EST (1 day ago) by hopiakuta (Desert Hot Springs, CA) | edit | delete
My younger brother & father each died in 2011, within three months of each other; I believe that they each had exposed themselves to conditions that had hastened their death.
I am DonFphrnqTaub Persina. I have been suicidal since 1963, three years old; but, I am a cowardly suicide, that I do continue to procrastinate, in 2011.
My parents, particularly my mother, had abused me much throughout my childhood, into young adulthood. &, my father would beat on her, chronically. Lately my mother tells me that she did not hit me, or, @ other times, that parents have a right to do whatever they want to do to their children.
My mother often says that I had been a perfect child; that seems nonsense to me. @ other times she says that I would dance & sing. Many ways to divert from the important issues; many ways to be dysfunctional.
I have been on Social Security Disability since 1985.
I had had an on again off again marriage for eighteen years.
For several years my parents had helped with a trailerhome, until my father died; but, that would no longer work.
I am chronic fatigue, obsessive compulsive, myofascial.
I do not know what to do about housing; I am terrified of being forced into housing where I would need to sleep within twenty feet of anyone else.
I do have a lot of adrenaline, & very negative emotion, when confronted with either excess noise &/or tobacco. If I am forced to sleep within twenty feet of anyone, possibly even somewhat further, I expect to get much of each.
Sometimes, I have smelt tobacco on clothing from days ago; although, there are other times when I cannot. I have smelt tobacco @ two hundred feet.
I do hope for a reasonable, workable housing choice.
I am terrified of what I might do to them, & what they might do to me.
If not, a death penalty would help; it could end all of my worry & fear, permanently.
I do care for a turtle, as well as an alleypussycat that I had found @ the trailer complex, named ParkWest, an horrific slumlord.
I do watch Directtv for Msnbc, Cnn, Freespeech, Worldlink. That & internet do help me to maintain some reality, if I have any @ all. I have not seen a movie theater movie since the 1990’s, when with my wife; I do try to avoid restaurants as much as feasible. Mostly, I watch news.
I do wish that I could be employed @ something.
If you, or anyone else, are | is to write to me, electronic mail is not so reliable; I do have chronic problems with it.
Box #0022, Desert Hot, Ca 92240.
Thank You,
DonFphrnqTaub Persina
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3 Comments
post comment↥ ↧hopiakuta (Desert Hot Springs, CA) 1 points 0 seconds ago Through these two days I have listened to a youtube video recording that someone had sent me via this webpage; that message, & that account, seem to be deleted, along with my second comment on this page:
« Now it all goes back in the box. »
« None of it was really yours. »
« And it turned out that if a suicide victim, these are usually young adults, had been abused as children,… »
« … caused a genetic change in the brain that was,… »
« epigenetic »
In my interpretation I hear a confirmation that I either need to be vasectomized &/or suicided. It is a very long & complex video recording, documentary movie.
< http://youtube.com/watch?v=4Z9WVZddH9w >:
« Zeitgeist: Moving Forward | Official Release | 2011 »
Much of this movie does seem to indicate my clan’s characteristics, my self, my parents, their parents, my brother’s death, my father’s death, our shared malfunction, shared dysfunction.
It ties it all to our international finance system. &, it does go much further than that: it does suggest how to reform our economy, cities, healthcare, et al.
There are many scientists included; but, I do not recall one scientific consultant having been a woman in this movie. I do not recall one police officer portrayed as a woman.
I do know virtually nothing about Latin; but, I can spell « et cetera », &, it is not « eck cetera »: I do wish for a cunning linguist to help with that.
In much of the movie they compare conservative to liberal, they compare Republican to liberal, & rarely do they say Democrat; they do sort of denounce socialist along with each of the other categories.
They do seem to want « the invisible hand of truth » to replace « the invisible hand of the market », as well as all extant economy, every extant politic, et cetera; they do seem to believe in some god, some theology, some theism, just as much as those whom they denounce.
< http://thezeitgeistmovement.com >
< http://thevenusproject.com >
Does « Jacque Fresco » mean « Jack Fresh » or « Jack Cool »?
Yesterday, I marched in Occupy Palm Springs 92262 92263 92264, from Parocela to Alejo Road on Palm Drive. We were there with an American Heat motorcycle day, which includes nine events called « Globe of Death Stunt Show ». One courteous motorcyclist kindly told those of us chanting to « Shut the fuck up. » We were far quieter than the American heaters, & he had been the only one who had had his fuck opened.
It does seem that Earth is a globe of death, deathglobe, deathEarth.
Which is preferable?: suicide or homicide?
occupywallstreet occupyEarth
DonFphrnqTaub Persina
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califerne DonFphrnqTaub Persina administrator ® © ™ ℠ altacalifernia altacalifernian altacalifernean altacaliferni altacalifernea altacaliferne altacalifern altacalifer hopiakuta 21:00, 21 November 2011 (UTC)
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