Ogni giorno che passa è sempre peggio.

Mi ero ripromesso di non parlarne più, ma che casino sta venendo fuori.

Questa è l’ultima di fonte Adnkronos: “La ‘verità’ dell’amica di Brenda: ”Marrazzo la pagò 30mila euro e fu Natalie a preparare la trappola” (questo il link)

La testimonianza dell’amica di Brenda, Chine, questa sera a “Porta a Porta”

—————-Aggiornamento 24 Novembre

Il Salvagente.it ci fornisce un buon resocnto delle cose dette nella trasmissione e ci dà un quadro della situazione (questo il link)

ஃபேஸ்புக் மாதிரி வலைப்பின்னல் தளங்கள், என்னதான் நமக்கு சந்தோஷம், உற்சாகம் எல்லாம் கொடுத்தாலும், அப்பப்போ  நம்ம வாழ்க்கையில கொஞ்சம் விபரீதமாக்கூட விளையாடிடும் போலிருக்கு! ஆமாங்க, கனடாவைச் சேர்ந்த நேதாலிக்கு, அப்படித்தாங்க  ஒரு அசம்பாவிதம்  நடந்திருக்கு!

நேதாலி ப்ளான்சர்டு கனடா நாட்டு ஐ.பி.எம் நிறுவனத்துல வேலை செய்றாங்க. மனச்சோர்வு நோயால பாதிப்பட்டு கடந்த ஒரு வருஷமா பணியிலிருந்து தற்காலிக விடுமுறை எடுத்துருக்காங்க.  ஆனா, மனச்சோர்வு நோய் காரணமா விடுமுறை எடுத்துக்கிட்டதுனால, “மனு லைஃப்” அப்படிங்கிற காப்பீட்டு நிறுவனத்துல இருந்து அவங்களுக்கு உபாதை விடுமுறை சலுகைகள் (பணம்) வாங்கிக்கிட்டு இருந்துருக்காங்க.

திடீர்னு அவங்களுக்கு வந்துக்கிட்டிருந்த விடுமுறைச் சலுகை பண உதவி சில மாதங்களா வரல. உடனே அவங்க மனு லைஃப் நிறுவனத்துக்கு தொலைபேசி மூலமா அழைச்சு ஏன் பணம் வரலன்னு கேட்டிருக்காங்க. அந்த நிறுவனத்துல இருந்து வந்த பதில் பெரும் அதிர்ச்சியா இருந்துருக்கு!

அப்படி என்ன சொன்னாங்க அந்த  நிறுவனத்துல?  நேதாலிக்கு உடல்நிலையில எந்த கோளாரும் இல்ல, அவங்க நல்ல ஆரோக்கியத்தோடதான் இருக்காங்க. அதனால அவங்க வேலைக்கு போகலாம். இந்தக் காரணத்துனால பண உதவி நிறுத்தப்பட்டது அப்படின்னு சொல்லிருக்காங்க மனு லைஃப் நிறுவனத்துல!

இதக் கேட்ட நேதாலிக்கு அதிர்ச்சியோ அதிர்ச்சி! ஏன்னா, அவங்க இன்னும் மனச்சோர்வு நோயிலிருந்து முழுசா குணமடையல. ஆமா, நேதாலிக்கு உடல் நிலை சரியாயிருக்கா/இல்லையான்னு அவங்க சொல்லாம எப்படி மனு லைஃப் நிறுவனத்துக்கு தெரிஞ்சது? யாரு சொல்லிருப்பாங்க? இதானே உங்க கேள்வி/குழப்பம்?

இங்கதான் நம்ம ஃபேஸ்புக் நேதாலியோட வாழ்க்கையோட விபரீதமா வெளையாடியிருக்கு! எப்படின்னு கேக்குறீங்களா?

அதாவது, மனு லைஃப் நிறுவனம் நேதாலியோட ஃபேஸ்புக் ப்ரொஃபைல்ல இருக்கிற அவங்களோட சமீபத்திய புகைப்படங்களைப் பார்த்திருக்காங்க. அதுல அவங்க ரொம்ப சந்தோஷமா இருக்கிற, பிறந்த நாள் கொண்டாடுற, பார்ல தண்ணி அடிச்சிக்கிட்டு குதூகலமா இருக்கிற மாதிரியெல்லாம் இருக்கிற புகைப்படங்கள பார்த்துட்டுதான், அவங்களுக்கு உடல் நிலை பூரண குணமாயிடுச்சி அப்படிங்கிற முடிவுக்கு வந்து,  நேதாலியோட உதவித்தொகைய ரத்து பண்ணிட்டாங்க!

அடக்கொடுமையே….அப்படிங்கிறீங்களா? உண்மைதாங்க, கொடுமைதான்! உண்மையில நேதாலிக்கு மனச்சோர்வு நோய் இன்னும் குணமாகலை!  ஆனா தன்னோட மருத்துவரின் ஆலோசனைப்படி அவங்க சந்தோஷமா இருக்க முயற்ச்சி பண்ணியிருக்காங்க. அப்படி அவங்க இருந்தப்போ எடுத்த புகைப்படங்கள தன்னோட ஃபேஸ்புக் கணக்குல அப்லோட் பண்ணியிருக்காங்க!

இப்போ தன்னோட சலுகைப் பண உதவிய திரும்ப வாங்குறதுக்கு சட்டப்பூர்வமா முயற்ச்சி பண்ணிக்கிட்டு இருக்காங்க. மனு லைஃப் நிறுவனமும்  நேதாலியோட உண்மை நிலவறத்த புரிஞ்சிக்கிட்டு தங்களோட முடிவ மறுபரிசீலனை செய்யறதா சொல்லியிருக்காங்க!

பாருங்க….ஃபேஸ்புக் நம்ம வாழ்க்கையோட எப்படியெல்லாம் வெளையாடுத்துன்னு! அதுக்காக ஃபேஸ்புக் கணக்கு வச்சிருக்கிற எல்லாருக்குமே இப்படி எதாவது நடக்குமுன்னு சொல்ல முடியாது. ஆனா, எந்த பிரச்சினை எந்த விதத்துல வரும்னு யாருக்குமே தெரியாதுங்கிறதுதான் நிதர்சனம்.

அதனால, நம்ம சொந்த விஷயங்கள ஃபேஸ்புக் மாதிரியான வலைப்பின்னல் தளங்கள்ல குறைவா வெளியிடறதுதான் நமக்கு நல்லதுன்னு நான் நெனக்கிறேன்!

ஃபேஸ்புக் தொடர்பான விபரீதம் பற்றிய என்னுடைய இன்னொரு பதிவ நீங்க இங்க படிக்கலாம்

ஆமா, உங்களுக்கு இது மாதிரியான அனுபவங்கள் எதாவது ஏற்பட்டிருக்கா? இந்த மாதிரியான பிரச்சினையைப் பத்தி நீங்க என்ன நெனக்கிறீங்க?

Monolocale. Venti metri quadri dentro un bastione di cemento. Cicactrici, labbra gonfie, tremore continuo. «Cosa è successo? Prima mi devi pagare». E forse non basta.

«Appena sono arrivata ho trovato vigili del fuoco e polizia. La vita per Brenda non era più la stessa. Dopo il caso Marrazzo era sola, disperata, non lavorava, non aveva più amiche. L’altro giorno le ho fatto da mangiare, può darsi che si sia ammazzata veramente. Giorni fa gli hanno rubato il cellulare, la polizia l’ha preso…». Alessia deve essere ancora giovane, ma l’età resta imprecisata perché il suo aspetto è sfatto.
Labbra gonfie, cicatrice sul naso, trema con il corpo, cammina sghemba e parla in automatico, dichiara di essere amica di Brenda. Prima di fermarsi a parlare, ha ricevuto un violento rimprovero da un altro trans, un incontro che è sfuggito ai microfoni che l’avevano inseguita poco prima. Rimprovero duro, senza repliche, poi il transex alto, moro e incappucciato per non farsi riconoscere, è andato via: forse è scattata l’invidia, forse una questione di protezione. Alessia continua a farfugliare riferendosi a Brenda: «Penso abbia ricevuto dei regali da Marrazzo, cose piccole, ma di valore molto alto».

Alessia è uno dei pochi trans intercettati a via Due Ponti, e uno dei rari che non abbiano mandato a quel paese il cronista di turno. I molti immigrati che risiedono qui sono al lavoro. Gli unici che si incontrano sono ragazzi di colore che non hanno voglia di parlare, e annuiscono distratti. Rimangono allora i trans, chi al bar, chi a fare spesa, chi soprattutto barricato in casa. O meglio, quello che resta di un corpo mutato, stressato da ormoni e da una vita sregolata. Facce e corpi che assomigliano a relitti. Tutti però chiedono soldi per parlare, ma l’aria della bugia è dietro l’angolo: «Quando scoppiò il caso Marrazzo – racconta un giornalista anziano – erano tutti elettrizzati, volevano apparire, raccontare la loro verità, che non sai mai quando diventa bugia, ora si nascondono, hanno paura».

Paura di morire, come Brenda. Si può morire tristemente in venti metri quadri. Ma anche viverci dà la misura dello squallore. Tanto più che questi venti metri quadrati sono ricavati da un sottoscala poco al di sopra di un garage, adibito a «monolocale» (secondo la fantasia degli annunci immobiliari), chiuso dentro le fondamenta di un bastione di cemento armato, grezzo fuori, e decadente dentro. Dai balconi sopra il garage spuntano panni umidi e antenne paraboliche, è una calda giornata di sole mentre la radio passa le canzoni di Califano e Mia Martini. Oltre i guanti bianchi della scientifica e il muro di fotografi, c’è il cuore di una strada che per tutto il mondo della prostituzione transgender capitolina è uno dei punti di riferimento a Roma: semplicemente «Due Ponti». Il civico 180 in realtà non è un portone normale, ma la via di accesso a questo bastione di cemento.

Un ragazzo di colore inizia la litania del «non ho sentito niente stanotte» che continuerà tutta la giornata, «poi la mattina tutta questa gente…» e indica lo stuolo di cronisti, i microfoni che ondeggiano, i furgoni aperti della televisione. Sono sotto casa sua, vicino alla transenna della polizia. A via Due Ponti 180 dire vicini di casa è una mezza verità. Lo sono tutti e nessuno: separati dal cemento armato che nulla fa sentire, ma uniti da perversi corridoi, scale ridotte al minimo, passaggi vari maleodoranti, luridi, con porte intaccate, citofoni e campanelli che oscillano dal vuoto più totale a cognomi lunghissimi e stranieri.
«Mesi fa era successa una cosa simile, un incendio domato a notte fonda dai pompieri, stavolta ho pensato fosse la stessa cosa, ma oltre il rumore della polizia non ho sentito nulla» racconta una gentile signora sudamericana che vive appena sopra il monolocale di Brenda. Lei almeno si affaccia sul bastione grazie a un piccolo balcone, ma per arrivare a bussare alla sua porta oggi bisogna aggirare completamente il palazzo.

C’è un mondo intero di immigrazione intorno via Due Ponti, che ogni giorno deve fare i conti con i trans. Così come a via Pirzio Biroli, il luogo dove Brenda giorni fa è stata picchiata e derubata. Prima di compiere il giro, si tenta di vedere se proprio lì si sono rifugiate le amiche di Brenda, ma il sole restituisce impietosamente volti struccati, lontani da qualsiasi idea di desiderio. Neanche il tempo di una domanda e chiudono la porta infastiditi, rifugiandosi dentro monolocali sporchi e sovraffollati di oggetti e mobili, che puzzano di umido.
Alle spalle della muraglia del civico 180 c’è via Stasi: da qui si prova ad accedere all’interno del palazzo di Brenda, complice un cancello aperto. Poca luce, corridoi stretti dove l’aria è pesante. Si bussa e si ricevono sorrisi esotici, ma niente di più. «Ci sono cinque brasiliani, sempre drogati, ubriachi che aggrediscono le donne, danno fastidio, prendono di petto chiunque – racconta una signora – hai visto quella lì, l’amica di Brenda? È già ubriaca ed è appena mezzogiorno. Sai che ti dico? Che se Brenda era una di quelle, allora sono contenta». Poi due ragazze romene raccontano: «Sono pericolose, ti urlano “Ma perchè mi guardi? Non ti piace come sono?”. Anche per i bambini non stiamo tranquille».

«I brasiliani sono pericolosi, ma qui non ci sono» dice un viados colombiano affacciato al balcone, dove per «qui» intende nel raggio di venti metri. Le distanze sono minime, ma allo stesso tempo enormi: a Due Ponti possono cambiare tutto. «Barbara? Vai al 36 di via Bruni». Appunto, venti metri più in là. Si entra in un corridoio buio, dove l’unica traccia di colore sono due porte gialle, che minacciano la presenza di un «american pitbull terrier» se qualcuno osa solo accostarsi, bussare o prendere la porta a calci. Come se fosse la norma. Un forte odore di sporco viene incontro e si appiccica addosso, in un angolo più buio ecco però una luce sotto lo stipite. Dietro una porta arrugginita, due voci: «Siamo puttane, se ci paghi parliamo». Ma è l’ennesima bugia di Due Ponti. Pochi secondi e un volto mulatto, dai capelli ricci, apre. Ha gli occhi lucidi, la mascella serrata, le tremano le labbra. Ora che Brenda è morta siete preoccupate? «E tu cosa pensi, che siamo felici?», ripete livida più volte prima di chiudere lentamente la porta. Poi rimane di nuovo il cemento armato e lo squallore fetido di Due Ponti.

Natalie at the Reward Challenge

For the third time in a row, Russell find the immunity idol.  Russell is just a magnet for the immunity idols.  Here is how it happened.  Winning the reward challenge, Russel and his team were able to get a clue for the idol.  The clue was a video message that the idol was hidden under a mossy rock.  When they get back, everyone’s looking for the idol.  Russell is being followed by everyone because they don’t want him to get it.  He spots the likely place and jogs away to lose everyone and then comes back and gets the idol.  This time he doesn’t tell anyone.  Telling someone you have the idol is not a very good move in Survivor as they always make you play it or send you home with it. 

When Laura doesn’t win the immunity challenge, its the perfect time to send her home.  Shambo says Laura is the “bane of her existence”, meaning someone that is a constant irritant to you.  We have all those, right? The Galu tribe actually come up with a somewhat plausible plan to save Laura.  They tell Foa Foa to vote off John and they would vote for him too as they don’t trust them.  Russell sees through it, and it comes down to a tie with the Galus voting for Natalie.  They decide on Natalie, I guess because she helped win the reward challenge.  All of the Foas vote Laura.  It is a tie, which means they will vote again.  If there is another tie, then each of the tribe members will have to draw rocks.  Russell seems a bit nervous.  But, on the second vote John changes his mind and votes for Laura too.  I think he did it to show allegiance to Russell and Shambo.  And, he thinks Galu has very poor strategy.  Unfortunately, I think he might be targeted next week.

Scusate il sensazionalismo e le pruderie del titolo ma vorrei provare a smuovere un pò le acque di questa storia schifosa e trasversale che simboleggia l’Italia dei miasmi e del malaffare coperta dalla complicità di tutti o quasi.

Da una parte il governo ed i suoi interessi alla pax mafiosa, dall’altra una opposizione acquiescente e complice col suo  peloso e doloso rispetto per la rovina politica ed umana di un uomo e di una famiglia “addolorati”.

Ma al dolore delle vittime chi ci pensa? Trans e pusher valgono meno di un cane se vengono ammazzati? Governo  ed opposizione fanno a gara per tenere chiusa  la  pentola maleodorante della camorra trasversale.

Marrazzo se avesse ancora un oncia del rispetto per se stesso e per suo padre dovrebbe parlare e molto, dire tutto quel che sa. Se ha paura è un problema suo , poteva pensarci prima di far politica, quando ancora faceva il donchisciotte su RAI TRE ; era più facile parlare allora, vero? Quanto chiacchierava, quante e belle e facili denuncie faceva…

Intanto  faccia i conti con la sua coscienza per quel che accade, se ne ha ancora una…

Stamattina hanno trovato il corpo di Brenda uno dei due trans al centro dell’inchiesta sulla presunta estorsione a  Marrazzo.

Cronaca dalle AGENZIE . Omicidio volontario. La procura di Roma sta indagando sulla morte misteriosa del transessuale Brenda, coinvolto nel caso Marrazzo. Si tratta della seconda morte misteriosa. Dopo lo spacciatore Gianfranco Cafasso, ucciso a settembre da un overdose in circostanze da chiarire, oggi è toccato appunto a Brenda, cara all’ex governatore del Lazio ma con la quale, secondo il racconto di Marrazzo, non ci sarebbero mai stati rapporti sessuali. Il suo corpo è stato trovato carbonizzato all’interno di un seminterrato trasformato in appartamento in via Due Ponti 180 a Roma.Accanto al cadavere, seminudo, c’erano due valigie chiuse, come se Brende fosse in procinto di partire. Ma potrebbe trattarsi di una messinscena. C’era anche una bottiglia di whisky. I vigili del fuoco sono stati chiamati per un incendio che si stava sviluppando nelle cantine di una palazzina in via Due Ponti, intorno alle alle 4.16 di stanotte. Arrivati sul posto dopo aver buttato giù la porta hanno trovato il corpo del trans, forse morto per soffocamento da fumo. A quanto si apprende l’appartamento – dove non pare che Brenda ricevesse i clienti – sarebbe composto da un unico locale, con un soppalco. E proprio nel letto posto sul soppalco è stato trovato, supino, il corpo di Brenda.

Alcune tracce di liquido infiammabile sarebbero state trovate nell’appartamento, non lontano dal cadavere di Brenda. Inizialmente gli inquirenti si erano soffermati su un borsone, vicino alla porta, da cui sarebbero potute partire le fiamme.

Dieci giorni fa era stata rapinata e picchiata.

«Certo, avevo quel video, lo custodivo nel mio pc ma l’ho distrutto perchè avevo paura». Diceva Brenda agli inquirenti in un interrogatorio messo a verbale.

Dunque Brenda custodiva il secondo video nel suo pc, lo stesso computer che oggi è stato trovato bagnato come se fosse stato immerso in acqua per danneggiarlo.

Adesso tocca a Natalie?

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Come detto in premessa molti hanno interesse ha chiudere questa storia come una classica storiaccia di trans e coca che ” pareggia ” politicamente i festini di Berlusconi, mette il silenziatore al moralismo della sinistra e mantiene in auge la legendaria vanità machista della destra ( “noi almeno andiamo a donne…” ) Un buon pareggio e tutti a casa. Questa è l’impronta che i media vogliono lasciare su questa vicenda.

Ma l’impronta lasciata sulle chiappe dell’ex presidente della regione Lazio è un pò più complessa.  Che andando coi trasn e tirando coca sia stato inculato anche politicamente è ormai fuori di ogni dubbio e chi l’ha fottuto ha lasciato  più di una traccia di sè. Una impronta che racconta molto di più dei trans e della coca , racconta di un grumo di sangue che porta dalle parti di Caserta passando per Fondi. Racconta di un alleanza politica -  casalesi ai più alti livelli.

Trans e coca sono bruscolini rispetto al marcio che c’é dietro.  La puzza si sente subito anche per un altro motivo .

Ci sono molti elementi che diverse persone conoscono ma che nessuno si preoccupa di evidenziare , riassumere, raccontare e non certo perchè ci sia una indagine in corso. Inoltre c’é un prefetto che viene smentito ed umiliato  da molti mesi e che pure ha messo tutto per scritto, con nomi e cognomi. Perchè l’indagine mediatica non segue l’intendenza questa volta? Forse perchè  la puzza di camorra e di coperture politiche arriva forte fino a Roma?

La rapidità con cui  i media di regime  si sono tuffati nel chiacchiericcio osceno su Marrazzo ed i suoi gusti trans  é proporzionale alla noncuranza con cui hanno tralasciato di dire una sola  parola sullo scontro tra Marrazzo e il Comune di Fondi colluso con la camorra.

Basterebbe riunire i fatti ed operare una operazione di semplice matematica , la somma ( 2  + 2 = 4 ),  non per sputare sentenze superficiali ma solo per farsi venire voglia di capire ed indagare.

Una cosa che nell’Italia di Berlusconi sembra ormai una bestemmia ed anche fra i suoi presunti oppositori pare essere una antica e fastidiosa abitudine da abbandonare…

Cominciamo a riunire solo i fatti senza chiamarli neanche indizi.

Marrazzo era un habitué dei trans e della coca. Andava spesso in via Gradoli con ricche mazzette di denaro ed era in buoni rapporti con un pusher di nome Cafassi , un omone obeso , detto “”il pusher dei trans”.

Cafassi è stato trovato morto  il 12 Settembre scorso. E’ lui che ha cercato di vendere il video di Marrazzo alle croniste di Libero per 500mila euro. Aveva detto loro di “essere nei guai“. Cafassi è originario del pontino, del basso Lazio.

Fondi è il comune mafioso del sud del Lazio. La zona è di competenza della Camorra, dei Casalesi. E Cafassi  prendeva la droga da loro. Poi qualcosa è andato storto con costoro: potrebbe essere stato lui a mettere in mezzo Marrazzo?

In effetti i Casalesi avevano buoni motivi per mettere sotto il loro tallone colui che li stava scontentando e che  aveva nominato un nuovo direttore del mercato ortofrutticolo, un tecnico, e sempre a Fondi aveva negato un’altra nomina in una società che gestisce gli immobili dello stesso mercato ortofrutticolo. Sapevano delle sue compromissioni con il Cafassi e il mondo parallelo di Via Gradoli. Premevano sul Cafassi per costringerlo a vender loro il video. Della sua fine si sa poco. Hanno detto arresto cardiocircolatorio.

Nel contempo rileggiamo la vicenda nazionale .

Il Governo aveva rinunciato a commissariare il comune di Fondi, ponendosi in una posizione garantista, esasperatamente garantista, nei fatti dalla parte della camorra.

Tutti sanno del via vai con la cittadina pontina di tre ministri importanti dell’attuale governo , tutti e tre -  che coincidenza – difendevano i mafiosi del comune di Fondi  opponendosi al commissariamento in sede di Consiglio dei Ministri.

Intanto si sa anche che B. ha in mano il video – tralascio per brevità raccontare come sia arrivato a lui, per il momento – e se lo  tiene per due settimane; poi decide di entrare nella partita con un avviso amichevole molto poco istituzionale per un presidente del consiglio. Pensare che in realtà fosse una intimidazione “Sei nelle nostre mani, farai quello che vogliamo” dato il pulpito da cui proviene il messaggio non è arbitrario.

Ma che aveva fatto di specifico Marazzo?

Marrazzo come già detto aveva posto ai vertici del mercato ortofrutticolo di Fondi un tecnico dalle note capacità, per bloccare le infiltrazioni della camorra. E aveva espresso parere negativo su una nomina in cui erano coinvolte due società, IMOF e MOF, che gestiscono il mercato immobiliare con personaggi legati alla ’ndrangheta e alla camorra.

Queste cose sono nero su bianco nelle accuse  formulate dal prefetto Frattasi e dai magistrati competenti quando hanno chiesto il commissariamento del Comune di Fondi.

Anche Storace arriva a dire che “sarebbe interessante capire quali atti (relativi al governo della Regione) siano stati compiuti tra la fine di giugno e ottobre per capire chi facesse pressione su chi”.

Chi è ricattato dalla criminalità non si limita a pagare in denari, paga anche in altri modi. Loro lo sanno e chiedono.

Marrazzo nel frattempo aveva detto: “Le istituzioni devono immediatamente dare un segnale inequivocabile sul Comune di Fondi. Anche questa bomba testimonia l’esistenza di un clima di violenza e illegalità che mette sotto assedio la città e i cittadini. In questa situazione lo scioglimento è un atto indifferibile. Il Comune di Fondi va sciolto senza più dubbi perché non possiamo consentire che la cittadinanza resti prigioniera di questa emergenza legalità e sicurezza.”

Ma Berlusconi non dà il via alla procedura, traccheggia e sente altre campane.Tra l’altro si può ben dire che se il governo avesse fatto il proprio dovere , avrebbe indirettamente coperto Marrazzo nella sua iniziale resistenza alle pressioni delle cosche.

Forse qualcuno c’era , Maroni ad esempio, cje avrebbe voluito farlo ma ha trovato una controresistenza fortissima, formidabile.

La richiesta di scioglimento del Comune di Fondi per pesanti condizionamenti mafiosi sull’attività amministrativa risale al febbraio 2009.

Sebbene richiesta per 2 volte anche dal Ministro dell’Interno Maroni, il Governo l’ha respinta con giustificazioni paradossali, rifiutando il commissariamento. Alla fine Sindaco e maggioranza hanno scelto di dimettersi da soli.

All’interno del Governo c’erano forti resistenze al commissariamento. Il Comune di Fondi è governato dal 2006 da una maggioranza in cui prevale FI per il 46%.

Le pressioni più forti vengono da ambienti del governo legati per motivi elettorali e familiari alla zona,  gente del calibro di Brunetta, Matteoli e Meloni, con quest’ultima che si esprime esplicitamente a favore del comune di Fondi.

Ma perchè costoro si danno tanto da fare per la giunta di Fondi?

Cos’altro c’é che pochi dicono ma molti sanno , notizie che però non bucano i video di nessun telegiornale?

FINE PRIMA PARTE. CONTINUA DOMANI…

Crazyhorse70

• AT&T please invest in your shitty network and not lawsuits. Hello?
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• Church of Debra does porn chat lines!

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Thanks to Marina @ I Love Lard for today’s album art!

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So far today, interesting things have happened. Abridged version:

I called the legal help hotline, the IRS, and H&R Block, and discovered that if Preston files and claims Natalie first then my claim will be rejected and I have to write the IRS a letter and provide all kinds of documentation and get audited. Yes, eventually he will likely be convicted of tax fraud, but I will also likely miss the deadline to file my FAFSA, and then we’ve gone through all this for nothing, really.

I called the ex and offered the following leverage: Natalie is now (surprisingly) eligible for Medicaid again, and I will allow him to drop her from his insurance to save himself lots of money every month, and I will not refile my child support case in order to get more monthly support in lieu of that insurance. I will also not ask for the more money to which I am entitled because I now pay $120 a week child care, and when we went to court I wasn’t paying any because I worked at her day care (to give him a break because he was behind on bills, mind you). Furthermore, I informed him that I had talked to the IRS (man, I’m craving biscuits) and had an appointment with the office in Montgomery to bring my documents and alert them to his intention to file fraudulently. And I told him that if he went to school he could claim her every year he was in school, after this year. AND I agreed to give him half of my tax return from this year. So, he swore he would not attempt to claim her. I hope he keeps his word. It’s a pretty sucky compromise, but it’s worth it for me to finish school. I mean, on what planet is it in Natalie’s best interests to not let her mother complete her one final year of school? It will be hard to fit in all those hours to graduate within that year as a breastfeeding working mother, but if it doesn’t happen in that time frame, I’ll find other options.

Also, the legal help hotline told me that because there are no court documents regarding custody, we each have full legal and physical custody of Natalie. Which means that I don’t have to let him see her, and he doesn’t have to give her back when he has her. But if one of us takes the other to court and one parent is withholding the child from seeing the other, that does not look good. Because a court always says it’s in the best interests of the child to spend time with both parents except in extreme (abusive) circumstances. So withholding her is seen as bad parenting. So, I will let him see her, but less often.

The ex and I also discussed the fact that he should accept Chandler as a part of my life, so maybe things will get better on that front.

Today I also decided that I’m going to go to my old OB, at least initially, to discuss a VBAC. This way he has my records right there (and, he performed the surgery) and can more easily make a decision based on my circumstances. The main reason I’m seeing him is that there is at least a one-month wait to see the doctor I’d like to see. Her office claims to be supportive of VBACs, but I don’t want to wait that long to find out they may not be after all, and have to start all over at a different office. (All offices I called have at least a two week wait to see the doctor, and I have to make an appointment with the Gift of Life care coordinator at each office first, before I can make a doctor’s appointment! Ugh!) So I’ll get in to Dr. Newman relatively quickly (as a returning patient) and hear my options, and at least get an ultrasound. If he says no VBAC, then I’ll move on. So pray that the circumstances that led to a c-section last time are not the kind that disqualify me from having a VBAC. I love Dr. Newman, and I hope he will be compassionate.

That wasn’t very abridged, was it?

Also, bonus points! My mom bought Chandler and me tickets to the suckiest Alabama game of the year this weekend because I’ve been so stressed lately, and she or my dad will keep Natalie so Chandler and I can have some alone time! I don’t particularly give a shit about football this year (What the fuck, Auburn?!) but Chandler might enjoy it, even though the opponent is wimpy and the seats aren’t great. Besides, I’ve never ever been to a real football game, so I’m excited!

Three years ago my husband and I packed up our new family of four and moved clear across the country. I was moving home. You might already know that my husband is from Zimbabwe and my kids were both born in Calgary. Me? I was born in Newfoundland. Coming home was pretty exciting. What I wasn’t prepared for was that all my old friends had moved away so returning home meant living in the city where I knew nobody. That also meant three year olds, I didn’t know any three year olds. So being the responsible mother I knew one day I had to become I decided to put my baby in pre-school. He needed friends, he needed to socialize and grow and learn to love his new home too.

That’s where Liam met Liam. For two years they played together at school and grew some kind of pre-school bond that I did not know was possible. Liam and Liam were separated this past September as they started kindergarten in different schools. My Liam is not jaded, he states just about every other day that “Liam is still his best friend’.

And that’s how I met this family. Whenever I move to a new city I’m reminded how much heartbreak, unrest and loneliness can follow you. With a little hard work it doesn’t long to be reminded that the best part about moving is new friends; new people are waiting in each place to be a part of your new life.

This past weekend I spent a beautiful mild Saturday morning with Liam’s best friends family.

They love to take their kids to the Fort Amherst area.  We shot at 9:30am to catch a softer morning light. And I say it again, “I must have the best job!”

This is the other Liam.

And this is his ‘little’ brother! He stops for nobody or nothing and yet makes a great subject for my camera!


I love this next image. Come on mom and dad, you’re suppose to be looking at the camera!

How do I shoot into the sun successfully? A lot of you have been noticing that I shoot into the sun a lot.  Most of the these images were indeed taken that way.  The first thing you have to do is start shooting in manual.  Surprisingly a lot of point and shoots can shoot manual but it’s not always easy to access those settings.  In order to succeed at getting what you want from your camera YOU have to be in control. So, my first piece of advice is start shooting in manual mode. You’re camera manual is a great place to start if you have no idea what ‘manual’ even means.  When you’re comfortable with that I’ll tell you what to do next.

And so that mom and dad don’t get a bad rep I had to share this one where they are happily smiling for me and the kids are doing what kids do best!

…………
‘The Other Liam’ has made an appearance on my blog before. He was the kid crashing mid air with my Liam at his #5 birthday last spring. Check them out here.

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der abel tasman nationalpark ist der kleinste in neuseeland und durch eben diesen laeuft ein coastal track, insgesamt ueber 51 km. er wird a;s einfach eingestuft, also ideal fuer mich wandergruenschnabel. ich wollte nur eine nacht uebernachten, also entschloss ich mich von marahau nach bark bay und am naechsten tag zurueck zu laufen.

die erste herausforderung: nimm soviel mit wie du brauchst UND tragen kannst. da ich in einer huette schlief, blieb es mir erspart ein zelt mitzuschleppen, aber trotzdem muss an vieles gedacht werden: schlafsack, klamotten zum wechseln (mein gott schwitzt man beim wandern), schlafsachen, regenjacke, muetze, sonnenschutz, zahnbuerste, gaskocher, topf…und das wichtigste: proviant! am ende war der rucksack doch schwerer als gedacht. trotzdem frohen mutes:

ob diese steinformation einen natuerlichen ursprung hat?

hier machte ich mittagspause: weisser sand, tuerkises wasser, ganz allein

hier in dieser bucht lag meine huette, in der ich uebernachtete. um halb acht war ich im bett. ich habe selten so fest geschlafen.

kurz vorm ziel, gute 45 km gelaufen, dank qualitativ schlechter schuhe kaputte fuesse. aber geschafft habe ich es 

in nelson sind wir in die groesste indoor-kletterhalle in ganz neuseeland gegangen…auch groesse ist relativ. aber riesigen spass hat es gemacht, wir beide waren so begeistert, dass wir nach zwei tagen nochmal hingegangen sind und dann waende geschafft haben, die wir vor zwei tagen noch nicht bezwingen konnten; so machts doch umso mehr spass!

der sonnenuntergang danach war einmalig. so wie eigentlich alle(s) hier.

I’ve been offline for about 10 days so your comments are just now getting published. We’ve been in the fire with my health…it’s bearable now but is still the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. God is providing. Even when I am angry at Him for not showing me what to do to get better.

My grandfather flew up from Texas this past weekend and was a huge help and support to James and me. He sent me this song when he returned home and i wanted to share it as I am sure many of you can relate. We feel weak so often. We’ve nothing left to do but beg the Lord for His merciful help.

More problems with the jealous ex. He got Natalie today for her birthday party (I was thisclose to not letting her go). While Chandler and I were out looking at houses, I apparently missed a call from the ex. I called the house back multiple times and nobody answered. I knew something fishy was going on because I know my ex in laws are always home on Sundays and the only reason they wouldn’t answer is if they knew something they didn’t want to have to tell me. Like, my ex and my kid are gone.

So I called his cell phone, and the house again, a total of 10 or 11 times. Finally he calls me back from a landline I’ve never seen and tells me that the reason he called earlier was that Natalie had blood in her poop. I asked if he took her to the ER, and he said she was fine. (Then why call me?!) I asked where he was and he said his girlfriend’s house in Friendship. I’ve never even heard of this bitch, and I bet they’ve only been “dating” for a few weeks. And I bet she’s 19. He won’t tell me where they are when I insist I want to come pick Natalie up so I can take her to the ER (I don’t play with blood in poop, and since I didn’t see it, I can’t be too safe). He says he’ll call me when he gets home, in two hours.

Do you have any idea what it’s like to not know where your child is, not know if she’s safe, and not be able to come get her when you’re worried about her? I would not wish that panic and dread and helplessness on my worst enemy.

In case you were wondering, my ex is hopeless as a father. When we were together I had to teach him how to interact with her and provide her basic needs. He has no idea what to do with her, and I don’t trust him not to drink or smoke around her as far as I can throw him. And, like I said, I don’t know this bitch he’s with. But I do know that they apparently came to the conclusion that THE ONE GODDAMN DAY my ex has with his daughter is better spent with them together. So, worthless parenting, as far as I’m concerned. (She supposedly has a little boy that Natalie likes to play with. Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s fair to involve a toddler in a short term relationship, especially when there’s a playmate involved that she can get attached to. She still never sees Chandler and me in any kind of interaction that is inappropriate.)

I call him another 2 or 3 times around the time he’s supposed to be home, and he says he’s changed his mind and I can’t have her. I told him I’d be there in 10. I called the Sheriff’s office and told them there’s no formal visitation papers, but I have a court order for child support from DHR that has me named as the custodial parent, but they say they can’t get involved. Luckily when I showed up, he handed her over (I guess so he could go back to his girlfriend). On my way out the door I informed him that we have plans next Sunday and he couldn’t have her.

Fuck him.

I’m going to try and get my shit together this week (I’m already gathering documents) to see a tax professional and figure out what to do about the tax fraud situation, and I want to find a way to talk to a judge (sure can’t afford no damn lawyer) and explain to him that I’m afraid next time he gets her I won’t get her back. I will get dirty if I have to and call his family out as a bunch of worthless drunks and drug addicts (they are). If Chandler and I have to get married now instead of waiting, so that we have a right to be together as a family while demanding my ex not parade his chick-magnet daughter around his flavor of the week, that’s what we will do.

For so long now, I’ve let him get away with doing things I said I’d never forgive him for. I’ve let him continue to see his daughter because a) I honestly don’t know if it’s legal to withhold her, and b) I feel like she deserves some time with him, and c) Chandler and I do need quality time together, if you get my drift. But he’s doing this on purpose now. He called to tell me my daughter had blood in her stool but that he was at his girlfriend’s house and he’d let me know when he felt like going home. YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH ME ABOUT THIS SHIT. He has sunk to a new low by using his daughter as a pawn to try to either “ruin my night out” (he doesn’t know I’m knocked up and can’t have any fun) or get my attention or scare the shit out of me or piss me off or something.

I have an advantage. I’m smart. He’s stupid. I will win this fight, but because I want what’s best for my daughter– a stable, safe family environment.

yay natalie finally has a blooooooggggg! link me natty, link meeee! hey guess what? i have new shoes. new shoeees!

I was at some school, and even though I didn’t recognize it, I’m going to assume it was Auburn. Kimberly Tidwell (high school friend) and I were in a computer lab doing homework, when it was dark and time to go. On the way out of the building, we ran into other high school friends, including Jacob Maddaloni and Bradley Atkins, studying anatomy. When we get to the parking lot, I realize I can’t find my truck. So I have Kimberly drive me to my ex in laws’ house (??!), which is really my Nanny’s old house on Lake Jordan. My truck isn’t there either, so I panic, and Kimberly and I start walking back to school, when my ex step father in law pulls up and starts drunkenly chatting our ears off and makes us come inside. Finally we all pile up in Kimberly’s truck and we drive backwards up crazy dirt lake roads, and eventually face forward and cross a $3.99 toll bridge. The mission was to get back to school so I could find my truck. We stopped at Dollar General, and while Kimberly was still inside, Yetta from The Nanny started driving it away. I took the keys, and ran on foot back to school looking for Kimberly. This time I saw Malarie Stephenson and Amanda Preskitt who waved me in Kimberly’s direction. Suddenly I’m in a very tall tower on campus, riding an elevator to the top floor. (I’ve been here in another dream before but have no idea where I’ve seen it.) When I get to the top, I hear an announcement about how if you wait until X time and look out X window, you’ll see some amazing shadow pattern, and that means the sun is hitting directly on something or other and the shadow of the tower I’m in is falling directly between “the A and the C” on the front of the main university building. It’s at this point that everything fades away and I wake up (in my dream). I am in a room similar to the one I shared with my brother in our old house. I am dazed, waking up, with Natalie beside me. Somewhere deep in my sensory perception I realize a man has shuffled into my room, and I dismiss it because apparently I am expecting some man to come back to bed. Suddenly it dawns on me that no man sleeps with me, just in time to open my eyes and see a dark eyed balding man lying perfectly still next to me with his eyes closed. I have a perfect image of him in my mind right now. I start to scream and panic, and the man opens his eyes and fades away. Then I have a searing pain in my kidney like I’ve been kicked. (I still kind of hurt now.) I scream and scream and my mother comes in. I tell her about what just happened, describe the guy, and by the time I’m done explaining, I feel comfortable that it was just part of a dream. Then she and I are walking along campus, and I have laxative and stool softener in my hand, apparently on my way to the OB to ask what I can do about my symptoms, which now include very realistic dreams about dead Italian strangers. I “wake up” again in the same bed with Natalie. I sit up, and see the Italian man standing beside the bed. I get up and scream bloody murder and take off running through the house. (Yes, I left Natalie in the bed.) I go through door after door after door, always on the verge of being outside, but remaining trapped in the maze. I realize this is the house I went to looking for my truck– my ex in laws’ (which is really my Nanny’s old house, which my old bedroom somehow got transposed into). So I’m screaming for my mom, my ex step father in law, anyone to please help me, and I keep turning doorknobs and feeling hopeless. I can feel the man right on my tail. Then I hear a “Shhhh” (I thought it was the Italian and really freaked) and I wake up for real, in my real house in my real bed. Natalie was the one who shushed me. Since I’ve been up typing this, she’s been squirming and whining in her sleep, dealing with her own nightmares, I presume. And my brother is sleeping here tonight, across the hall, and when I first woke up I heard a door creak and almost pissed my goddamn pants.

Damn pregnancy nightmares! What the fuck!

I have been married for seven and a half years. I have a 4 yr old son named Jack and a daughter, 2, named Natalie. We live in a small town, not far from my parents. I stay home with my kids, day after day, taking care of them when I am not taking care of my husband. Right now they are at the park. I am home alone. Before I know it all three will charge back in here, demanding something of me, which I will try to supply, if for no other reason than because it will make them go away.

I graduated from SUNY Oswego in 1998; a history major and women’s studies minor. What the hell does one do with that kind of degree you may ask. Apparently stay at home and wait on others, that’s what. After college I spent a year working a couple of jobs in the Rochester area before moving to the DC area in the hopes of living out “My Dream”. Looking back on it I am not clear what “My Dream” was (or, is) but I headed down there anyway, with two friends. I ended up in retail, surrounded by gay men, many of whom I had highly volatile relationships with. (Rob or Chris, if you are reading, hi, how are you.) My stay there lasted about 16 months before I hightailed it back to upstate New York, farther into debt, failed relationships of all kinds and no closer to “My Dream” than before.

I got my own apartment for the first time, in Syracuse, New York, working at a horrible place called Rapid Response. The girls were all fat and mean (yes, the two were related, being a skinny girl at the time and a not-so-skinny girl now, I can say that) and the boys were horny. I sniffed around several, managed to anger quite a few of the girls, before settling on the man who would become my husband. This cost me my job, but I found another and in June, 2002 Bill and I were married ina secret ceremony in Baldwinsville, NY.

Secret  might sound romantic, but if it was romantic, I would have called it romantic. I am many things, including brutally, horribly, cuttingly honest. My husband was unsure whether he could go through with the ceremony so in an attempt to protect myself from abject humiliation, I agreed to tell only a few people about the wedding until it was through. Fortunately he did not back out, although this was in part because there was a flood in downtown Baldwinsville that day and he literally could not leave.

It worked out for the existence of his children. After a failed pregnancy in June of 2003, a year of infertility followed. In May of 2005 I finally gave birth to our son, John Harrison. He is named for my father; we call him Jack. Many people have a difficult time with this. Jack is a nickname for John. I don’t know how or why but it is. John F Kennedy was often called Jack. My father was called Jackie as a small child. That’s just how it is.

Natalie was born two years later, in July of 2007. I always wanted a girl, probably if asked at any point in my life after I was 18, I would have said more than anything in life I want to have a little girl. And I have one who looks and acts just like me.

My husband is a wonderful man, my kids are smart, healthy, funny and can give it as good as any two kids I’ve ever met. But somehow something is missing at the end of the day. I used to write, read, play music, think, always be one step ahead. Lately I just dont feel that way. I think a lot of it is having kids, a lot of it is being married to a man, a lot of it is living in this suffocating little town. I wouldn’t say that I am unhappy, but I would say that I am merely existing. Maybe it is part of growing up, 4 days ago I turned 33. In two days I will be the same age that my mother was when she had me.

I hope that starting this blog will fill in some of the void that exists in my life. In the meantime, I have laundry to do.

Two weeks ago we had the distinct honor and pleasure of seeing the two of united in marriage. And tonight we get to celebrate your union with you, your family, and all of your friends.You two are two of our most wonderful friends. We remember at our wedding, the card you gave us. We remember thinking how heartfelt the note that you guys wrote was. Just like we’ve cherished our friendship with you the past several years, we also look forward to the next 70 with you (and our kids and grandkids and great-grandkids)!
I don’t think I can put into words how happy we are for the two of you. Marriage is truly a wonderful thing. What a commitment to make to God and each other! Although life will have it’s ups and downs, we know that the two of you will make it. And we hope to share all of it with you guys!
Obviously we don’t need to share much instruction on what makes a great relationship…you two have been together for a while now . A few things we think make our relationship so strong is complete trust, honesty, commitment, forgiveness, respect, and faith in God. But, another thing we’ve learned through our trials together is to laugh. Laugh at yourself, laugh at each other, laugh at some of the silly circumstances you get yourself into or find yourself at. That’s why we wanted to share the following pictures with you guys. Now, we know you two are Scrunchy-lovin’ folk. And what better to make you laugh! These are for you.

We love you both!!

Justin & Des (and Belly)

Today is a fucked up date day.
(except that Pam is finally free to meet us!)
It’s as if, all the birds chose to shit on me today.
I even accidentally burn my hand.

I couldn’t agree much to everyone now. My expectation for boyfriend is so fucking high.

You don’t even wanna know what i’m thinking now. Very disappointed.

This is the reality of owning a dog. After a few weeks nothing your dog does can faze you. Nothing.

nataliedee.com

Same place, same few people, coincidental meets.
It’s becoming our favourite hangout place already.

My really nice classmate just text me. He was asking if i need a morning call tmr. So i just remembered that tomorrow is assessment day. Goodness me. I am going to Apple+Q everything now and go to sleep.

HA! I was just trying to learn how to use a Mac.

I think the title says it all!

Note: This piece is intended to provoke thought–not set down universal rules.

Once upon a time I made daily visits–or multiple daily visits–to Facebook. With over 1,000 friends there was always something interesting to read or photos to view. I used it to fill my odd moments during work. It was fun. I felt connected to my friends; I felt loved when I would get comments on my status messages or photo albums. I was your typical Facebook user.

Then I began feeling tuggings on my conscience about my use of time. Nurturing Intimacy in a Facebook Generation was published a few years ago. I kept seeking a balance between writing off social networking and thinking about it every single day.

In August of this year my health took a turn for the worse and I spent ten days without a computer. I found solace from the stress of illness in journaling by hand, a therapeutic art I’d slipped away from over the last six months. It was a refreshing change from blogging, or even typing journal entries. By chance, I also rediscovered a pasttime that had lain dormant for years: sketching. As the days passed online activities crossed my mind and I realized–with pleasure–that I didn’t miss email. I didn’t miss blogging. And I certainly did not miss Facebook.

When I got back online I stopped by Facebook. Something felt “off” to me…artificial…draining. My mind, uncluttered by over a week of rest, focus on highest priorities, and a newly simplified life, blanched at the barrage of trivial details. I was on information overload and it was neither fun nor profitable.

One truth I’ve been meditating on lately, and–one tenuous step at a time–learning to apply. is the effect our activities have on our bodies and minds. I’m also on a search for simplicity (which will be blogged about more in the future). One concept of a simple life is minimizing, when possible, the activities that drain us. For those that cannot be avoided the second part of simplicity steps in: taking time to purposefully refresh and renew yourself.

For me, Facebook and email is a drain. Journaling by hand, sketching, and other artistic pursuits, is renewing. That’s just me. So in my downtime instead of being online I am delving deeper into the discipline of simplicity through reading, writing, art, and enjoying nature.

I take daily walks with my dog. I’m creating beautiful journals as I seek God and allow Him to work on my heart. I’m developing my art in hopes of using it in ministry someday. And yes, I am still writing. Once Quest Expanded Edition is released I’ll begin work in earnest on a new book. The pages are being written on my heart and in my journals right now.

Do I still have a Facebook? Yes. My brothers post their pictures there; a few other people use it as the primary way to stay in touch with me.  In fact, I use Networked Blogs so that HeartThoughts is published on Facebook whenever I write a post. Ironically, this post  will appear on the very site I am striving to avoid.

But now I’ve drawn boundaries to protect my time, my desire for simplicity, and my authentic relationships. Facebook gets fifteen minutes a week on Fridays. If it cannot be done in that time slot then it will not be done. As for blogging on HeartThoughts, my new goal is one post per week, or five per month. The posts, like this one, will be more lengthy and–hopefully–worthy of the time to read them.  The occasional exception will be book reviews or some significant family event. I welcome your feedback as I make this transition.

What are some boundaries you’ve set in your life to protect your spiritual walk, your mental energy, your physical strength?

Hormones are evil and God’s way of punishing women for… something. Perhaps we have so much seductive power that something has to get in the way of our ruling the world. It’s only fair.

The evening started off with a heated debate between my mother and myself. Natalie pooped on the potty (Yay!) so I let her pick out a piece of her leftover Halloween candy, and she chose a sucker. My mother, in her Yankee way, took an opportunity to correct my Southern-ness. She insisted ’suckers’ is a Southern term, and that candy on a stick such as that Natalie was eating is called a ‘lollipop.’ I explained to her that you can’t suck a lollipop– it’s flat. A sucker is spherical. You lick a lollipop, you suck a sucker. She shook her head and I got all worked up (imagine that) and insisted that there is a legitimate distinction, and if ’suckers’ is a Southern thing, then we got it right. She thinks she is so superior to all things Southern, and perhaps a bit of that attitude has rubbed off on me over the years, and she knew she would get under my skin by implying I was being all native.

I talked to the ex husband tonight. When he found out Chandler and I plan on moving in together in January, he flipped.his.shit. He swore to mysteriously and threateningly prevent Natalie from living with my boyfriend. But when that didn’t work, he went for the throat. He informed me that he was going to claim Natalie on his taxes this year. Even though he has NO legal right to do this (whether he believes it or not), I know he will get his W2 before me and therefore beat me to filing. If he claims her first, I worry I will be out of luck. And he knows without a dependent I don’t get any grants/loans for school, and I’d have to start paying back my loans immediately. Even though the child lives with me 6 days and nights a week, and the child support he’s been paying since September doesn’t even cover day care, he might get away with defrauding the government and ruining my life. I’m on the hunt for legal resources for poor folks. And this conversation came on the heels of him informing me that the solid wood dresser my Nanny gave me that my Dad hand sanded and stained, that I let Preston hang onto after the split because I lived with a parent and he needed furniture for his own place, was left at his old place when he moved and he refuses to do anything toward getting it back.

Bad night all around.