A. This undated photo provided by Adam Crapser shows him around the age of 3 with his sister. Abandoned by one adoptive family, separated for nearly three decades from his only biological sister, and exposed to horrific abuse by another American adoptive couple, Crapser struggled with rejection, homelessness and crime. Now, as he’s nearing 40 and has finally formed a family of his own, an immigration policy is threatening to further punish him. A family adopted the girl, and got her citizenship. (AP Photo/Adam Crapser)

B. Korean adoptee Adam Crapser, left, poses with daughters, Christal, 1, Christina, 5, and his wife, Anh Nguyen, in the family’s living room in Vancouver, Wash. on March 19, 2015. Crapser, whose adoptive parents neglected to make him a U.S. citizen, will face an immigration judge and could be separated from his family and deported to South Korea, a country he does not know. (AP Photo/Gosia Wozniacka)

Adoptee from South Korea faces deportation from US

PORTLAND, Ore. (AP) — More than three decades ago, a 3-year-old South Korean boy and his sister flew to the U.S. to become the adopted children of American citizens, but their life together didn’t last long.

They were abandoned by their American parents, sent into foster care and separated.

A family adopted the girl, and got her citizenship. The boy, who was eventually named Adam Crapser, wasn’t as fortunate: The parents he had were abusive, and never sought the green card or citizenship for him that they should have.

Now, at 39, after struggling with joblessness because of his lack of immigration papers, homelessness and crime, Crapser, a married father of three, is facing deportation because he’s not a citizen.

"The state abandoned him when he was a child," his attorney, Lori Walls, said. "Now the U.S. is throwing him out."

A deportation hearing is set for April 2.

Read More: http://news.yahoo.com/adoptee-south-korea-faces-deportation-us-071454146.html

Police Abuse of Uber Driver in New York City

I saw this video on the day when it published, but did not pay attention to it, as can be seen today, the public has excited such behavior of a cop.

An alleged plainclothes NYPD cop is seen yelling at an Uber driver in an apparent parking dispute that escalates into the officer shouting xenophobic remarks.

Thank God, this case dispensed with the dead. Against the background of recent events associated to police brutality, this scene may seem harmless to someone. It just helps to once again acknowledge the fact that the US police is extremely unpleasant member of our society, having all of the qualities inherent in the most horrible. Fear the police, they are given the power they do not deserve.

#NYPD #UberDriver #Xenophobic #PoliceAbuse

The Hallucination

by Carrie Rudzinski

Love is a boy with addictions
to everything but me. Love
sounds just like a dial tone.
Love knows he is my first
want. He is a field waiting
to be grazed. Love taught me
to forgive like a wing ripped
from its socket. Love taught me
patience carries a knife. To walk
like a bruise blooming. To devour
each lie and ask for another.

I found a toothbrush
that is not mine
in Love’s bathroom.
Love is a salt block of excuses.
A scab I chewed through.
Love makes me walk home.
Love is forgiven.

Love taught me how to drown quiet.
So I may taste how to flood.
So his hands are the last thing
I kiss. Love is forgiven.

Love is a severed finger
forgotten in my pocket.
I wait. And wait.
He never calls.
Love is forgiven.

Love has too much desire
and not enough hands.
He wrapped his mouth in a telephone wire.
Promised not to kill himself
this time. Love says I am his
but he is not mine. My love
is malignant. His mouth is all
of the reasons I flinch
when other men touch me.
Love taught me to wait.
I am old now.
Love is forgiven.

Love did not mean it.
Love tells me all of his secrets.
Love refuses to kiss me in public.
Love is only sober when he is with me.
Love is a breeze in everyone’s skirt.
A handprint on the inside of my thigh.
Love tells me he loved me too much.
Love never apologized.
Love is broken.
Love told me his mouth
is the last train home.
Love knows I am not
his Love. Love told me
not to love him.

But how do you claw
your way out of the river
when you are a stone?

© Carrie Rudzinski
Published 3.31.15 in Drunk in A Midnight Choir.


Hey y’all. This is Chris. He lives in Pennsylvania. All of the information I have about him is up in the photo set. He parades himself as a Daddy Dom. I was in a relationship with him as my Dom for 7-9 months if not more bc I have done my best to forget most of it. And through that time period he was sexually abusive, verbally abusive, and emotionally abusive. He sent me those messages this morning. He wanted me to return to him after months upon months of not speaking because he found someone else. And once she left him he wanted me again. And when I refused he threatened to kill himself. And he has been trying to blackmail me the entire time I was speaking to him. Also, from the very beginning he was degrading me and forcing me to send pictures and to sexually skype with him and make him cum even when I was too tired and too sick to do so. And through the whole thing he was a probable factor into why I had/have bad mental health. He was my first Dom. Every time I think about him I start to panic and get shaky. He’s very dangerous. Please please please do not get wrapped up with him. He does not understand no, he does not understand anything that does not have anything to do with him. Please y’all. Steer clear of him. Stay safe little ones.

Female Cop Sucker Punches Handcuffed Man in the Face For No Reason, Fellow Cops Do Nothing

The man being punched in the face by the officer is 20-year-old Raymond Rober. Police were serving him with an arrest warrant, and he initially ran. However, he eventually stopped and allowed police to arrest him.

He was in handcuffs and cooperating with officers when out of nowhere, a female officer walks up to him and punches him.

The police are obliged to defend us from an assault, but you are attacked by the police. What is this feeling?

I can’t imagine. Pigs feel superior power. There is no reason to beat a man who handcuffed. If the law enforcement agent can proceed over the brink of unwarranted aggression, it indicates that the system is clearly rotting from the inside.


Fig 1 Mindy Vincent is a therapist at a drug recovery center in Salt Lake City. Last year, her sister Maline, a practicing Mormon, died from prescription pain medication overdose.

Fig 2 Fewer people in Mormon counties (LDS Enclaves) smoke cigarettes or drink to excess than in other community types. Tobacco, alcohol, coffee and tea are prohibited by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Fig 3 But Mormon counties have relatively higher rates of death from prescription drug poisoning.

Fig 4 For a series on The Takeaway exploring health patterns in American communities, the WNYC Data News team blended county-level health data from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation with “community types”—groupings of similar counties defined by the American Communities Project.

Hear Mindy’s story on The Takeaway at thetakeaway.org/mormon-health.

(In case anyone can’t read the sign it says #NAPP I am Jason #actuallyautistic #austismspeaks10 Not a puzzle piece)
Someone else did this and I thought I’d do it too
Autism speaks works AGAINST the interests of people with autism not for us.
I am not incomplete
I am not broken (or at least I wasn’t until the ABA/abusive “treatment”)
I do not want to be cured
Autism is not a disease

I am literally being targeted by a Gamergate harassment mob on Twitter right now, including deliberate misgendering, gaslighting, insults, and accusing me of silencing someone who was trying to silence me… because I dared to suggest that a trans woman’s tweet where she calls for the murder of trans people while posing with a rifle isn’t okay just because it was intended as a joke about people supposedly accusing her of killing trans people for disagreeing with them.

Here’s one of the other things Hitherby Dragons is about.


Listen, and I will tell you the truth of the monster’s wings.

They are brilliant and they are reflective. When you look upon them you will see the inside of your own eyes. You will see the process by which you form yourself laid bare.

When he has spread his wings through the construction of the world, when he has become a parasite on creation and made the truth a captive to his will, the monster will not give you the luxury of seeing that it is so. Instead you will see yourself. And in that moment he will describe you. He will tell you who you are.

Strength will not help you. Reason will not help you. Nor will it help you in the least to know that, theoretically, there is some real truth, somewhere, somewhere outside the monster’s steading.

Depending on what you imagine truth to be, that might not even be the case.

In his unfurled wings the monster is an absolute creature. He is not deniable. He is no longer a person. He is no longer a man, or a god, or whatever the hell monsters are, in a lab coat, with a name tag, with a tie. He is I AM THAT I AM, as much as any burning bush has ever been.

It is as if, to gain his power, he had slaughtered God, had ripped out the bones and organs of Him, and made from Him a coat. He usurps God as he does reason; to seek God in his presence is therefore to seek the monster out.

Look for love, if you’d rather. Look for hate. Look for hope. Look for anything you like.

You’ll be caught up in the maze of him. You’ll find it only where he wills.

You probably think you wouldn’t give in to him. Of course you wouldn’t. Of course you’d stand up to him. The man’s a filthy bit of work, isn’t he? Worse’n the Devil, some would say. There’s no way you’d look at those wings and think that what the monster does to children could be right.

Please do believe that. You should. It costs him something, every time he spreads those wings. There’s no point in giving in to him for free.


I have told you that in such moments he is inevitable. That he may become Truth; or Axiom; or Victory; that when his wings have spread he is not such a thing as you may deny.

He will make you say as much, if he wants to.

He will make you admit to it, while hating him; or to admit it while loving him; or to come through strenuous paths of reason or of faith to the conclusion that you should. And if you think that’s impossible, then you’re lucky, because you’ve never seen the monster’s wings.

Dad is crippled and homeless

He called me to ask if he could live with me. I told him “no”…ending the conversation with strings of “I love yous” and “I miss yous” pausing each time to see if I will return the sentiment that I will not express and do not feel. I suppose I might “love” the idea of what a father was supposed to be…I never experienced it.

 This is not he first time. Over the last few years a pattern has emerged. He eventually verbally abuses every person that tries to help him. He is too old now to throw and hit them anymore. His legs are rotting from gout, yet refuses to eat better. He won’t go into a nursing home because he will have o follow their rules “won’t let him drink beer”; yet why do I feel like some kind of awful person? 

Below are the facts of my relationship with him. I have often wondered why I still feel this pang. An very observant person said that it is the same thing that caused me to take in a stray cat. I have compassion and it still hurts despite being overridden by experience. 

His old friend Dennis, also a disabled drunk, has taken him in now. He keeps calling me and feeding a me a guilt trip about seeing my dad. How my dad always talks about me, and misses me, and loves me. After the third call now, I finally had enough. I told him I that I did not have a father growing up. Instead, there was just this abusive, terrifying, screaming, raging human who would hit the table to hard the food would fly off of it if I didn’t consume the food in the right order on my plate. It was an oak table. I remember he broke it eventually. I continued to say that he did not have a son and that some men earn the love of their sons, and some do not. He did not. Dennis would not let up, telling me how most of his own kids hate him. I said that if he hopes to feel better about fucking up his own life and causing his own kids to hate him by somehow bringing me and my father closer before his death, that he is barking up the wrong tree. He hung up on me then. I should feel satisfaction at that….but it is hollow.

My mother left him when I was five, after 12 miscarriages before me, that according to her, were the result of stress and abuse at the hands of my father. I did not really believe her. I did not think someone could really be that bad…until I tried to live with him when I was 16. I left home, fed up at my mother irrational hatred of all male kind, suffering indignity and unearned mistrust for the sin of being male. 

There were no emancipation laws then, therefor I had to come to Arizona if I wanted to be signed in to highschool and complete my diploma. Within a week, he was accusing me of having an affair with his girlfriend and stealing his money (when he would get drunk and hide it from himself in a blackout). The difference is that I was 6′2″ and 225 lbs at 16, so his attempted physical ended when I threw him across the room. I went on my own after that, worked my way through highschool as a dishwasher at Shoney’s restaurant. One day,after returning from a summer at a German language camp I was attending on scholarship, he and his trailer home vanished. He moved to Ashfork Arizona. Now I was truly alone…but that is another story