🚀 go-pugleaf

« 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 >;

< http://knol.google.com/k/donfphrnqtaub-persina-persina/zeitgeist-a-desperate-plea-for-an/2ytmo4zm0vqfd/27
>.



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

2 Comments

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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://zeitgeistmovie.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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