My original plan (after setting aside the absurd proposition of trying to turn the Slovak state against one of its own agents) for how to respond to my beatings at the hands of the Slovak police was to:

1. Leave the country
2. Publish the story online
3. Attempt to make a media story of the incident

I’ve done numbers 1 and 2 already. The question is now: should I do number 3?

I have the media and other contacts I need already, I think. If any of them chose to actually make a story of it is another question.

Possible outcomes include:

• Nobody touches the story
• It’s published, and yields some good
• It’s published, and my life gets even more difficult

A big part of me wants to strike back at these monsters. Another part recognizes that the first and third possibilities are the more likely ones.

As context to all of this, Bratislava is still home to me. I’d like to go back there and try to resume my life at some point.

What do you think?

As my friends and regular readers know, I’ve left Slovakia and taken up provisional digs in Granada, Spain. There were two reasons for getting out. The first is to be able to tell the story of being brutalized at the hands of the Slovak Police and to publish Miroslav Pašek‘s name widely, without same beasts knowing precisely where I live and having easy access to my fragile corpus. The second reason is psychological. From the time of the attack until I left, I was more or less a shut-in. Leaving my building, walking around the city, taking a bus, even visiting with friends all were liable to trigger memory and emotional associations which would set off various negative psychological/somatic reactions in me: fear, stress, anxiety, depression.

Image unrelated, but still a good read

So it was time to go, get my story out — for what that’s worth — and try to rebuild my psyche. And getting out has done me good: the fear/stress/anxiety stuff is gone, since I’m not in the triggering environment. The depression — something I’ve been prone to for long years anyway — is still there. And now there’s a new element, too: homesickness, an emotion-complex I’ve not really experienced before. Bratislava had become home to me, and now that’s been ripped away, along with easy access to my dear friends there. This will all get better over time, I know, but it still sucks for the moment.

So, to the bleg. Moving is expensive. And it gets extra expensive when you have a sweet 18-year-old cat depending on you for his daily love and vittles. €857.48 worth of expensive, to be more or less exact, or US$1,274.99. Money I don’t really have.

An itemization of my moving expenses is below, followed by a special treat. If you can help out, I can take payments to mike (at) gogulski (dot) com via PayPal, MoneyBookers, Revolution Money Exchange and Pecunix. Direct “pay” links to all of them can be found at Support nostate.com above, and there’s also a ChipIn widget here now. Please don’t mark anything as a “donation”, since PayPal particularly seems to think anyone who accepts “donations” needs to be a state-registered charity. Use “gift” instead, if anything.

And thanks as always for your attention, your interest and your support.

And now, the promised treat!

Henry's first breath of freedom (which he used to complain, loudly), in Marbella, Spain, after 10 hours of undignified travel

Those I know of are:

• Kevin Carson
• Vicki Moore, aka drunkenatheist
• Neverfox
• Charles “Rad Geek” Johnson
• Martin Rojko
• Nick Puglia at Fr33 Agents
• Aaron Kinney
• Tom Ender
• Darian Worden, who has also mentioned it on his Thinking Liberty net radio show
• Ryan, The New Anarchist
• Sunni Maravillosa
• Daniel Valent
• John Paul Goodman
• Robin aka CoyoteShaman, to whom I owe a reply

Thanks, y’all!

I have done my best, in those years, to understand and to relate to what happens to them. I have cried with them, cried for them, and cried for the awful horror that is our common, human milieu.

I have cried and felt, especially, for those women — far too many — whom I have met, who have told me their stories of rape, spousal abuse, imprisonment at the hands of “lovers”, ongoing exploitation and debasement. And I have tried to relate. I have related to the level where, as above, I have cried not only for them, but for all of them who suffer these horrors — especially when, for whatever reasons, they feel they must remain silent.

And then, without being raped specifically, I’ve become a victim, too.

I haven’t been in a physical confrontation, prior to seven weeks ago, since the playground days of the mid-1980s. Those, always, I lost in short order. Some sand to the face, a punch in the belly, or, later, a deft evasion on my part, and the confrontation dissolved rather quickly.

I found myself, though, seven weeks ago, facing a monster far greater than any playground bully. I ultimately have no idea whatsoever what a woman trapped by her circumstances into either remaining silent about rape or deciding to tolerate daily abuse undergoes.

I do, however, map some of my own feelings in reaction to those I have come to known from those of my friends who have been there. The correspondences are not always perfect. I did not have to face the situation that Miroslav Pašek would continue living in my home, continue to pretend to be my protector or lover, or continue to play a part in my life.

Even so, I ran. I ran from Pašek’s territory. I ran from his hunting grounds.

I have never really understood before recently what it is to be a victim. I’m not entirely sure that I understand now, especially to the depth that the victims of rape and domestic violence I have known have been.

If I have gotten even the slightest taste, however, by means of what I have experienced, then I know that their reality is, in fact, far worse than I ever imagined.

This realization, along with my own emotions, makes me want to sleep all day, and shut out the world.

And, yet, I cannot.

Bruising to right upper arm showing finger impressions of Miroslav Pašek

Slovak State Police hired thug Miroslav Pašek has learned how to inflict great pain with his hands while leaving few if any marks on the victim’s body.

Most of the blows he struck against me were to my ribcage and upper chest. No bruising at all was ever visible there. Nevertheless, more than six weeks later, I still have twinges of pain in that area when I move or lay down in certain positions.

The bruise shown here is a product of Pašek momentarily losing control. When he came into my cell demanding that I sit up rather than lay down, he must’ve been gosh-awful furious that I wasn’t all instantly obedient. The bruise resulted from Pašek hauling me up from the bench by the arm, and clearly showed the shapes of three of his fingers.

Tisk tisk, Miro.

Bruising to left knee, courtesy of Miroslav Pašek

I’m not entirely certain how this injury to my knee arose. I may have been kicked or stomped in the knee after having fallen to the ground in pain after being hit. Or, it may be that my other knee impacted this one during one of those falls, and caused the bruise. Unclear to me.

This bruise was visible immediately. A second, even larger bruised emerged over the succeeding days higher up on the same leg. Similar uncertainty as to its origins.

All this stuff — except for the residual bruised-rib pain I mentioned above — is healed up now. Physically, I’m okay.

The psychological and emotional effects, however, are ongoing. I’ll be writing more about that in the near future.

Paga impuestos… La policia no es para darte seguridad, es para proteger el dinero de la burguesia. Tu mismo pagas con tu sudor o con tu sangre el sadismo de algunos que nunca quisieron trabajar. All cops are bastards.

I saw this video about 2 weeks ago. Twice, three times. I left it up on my screen, I read the articles, I read the comments, I tried to organize my thoughts. Nothing came out but a high-pitched keening sound, so I knew it was time to move on.

Watch:

Read his full post. He’s done the research and picked apart the assumptions and lies. He’s looked into this pit of filth and come back with something instructive. Bravo, Charles.

His conclusion is as apt as it is obvious. It’s nothing shocking to those of us who share the same critique of the state, but worth repeating nonetheless:

The plain fact is that what we have here is one of two things: either a professionalized system of violent control which tacitly permits and encourages cops to exercise this kind of rampant, repeated, intense, and unrepentant abuse against powerless people—or else a system which has clearly demonstrated that it can do nothing effectual to prevent it. In either case, it is unfit to exist.

As for the Aryan Nation connection, well, imagine my shock. You didn’t really think that cops are selected for their dignity or their integrity or their intelligence or their tolerance or their morality, did you?

From CBS 2, Chicago:

Police Brutality In Beating Case

Incident Reportedly Escalated Over Number Of Recent Police-Involved Shootings

Twenty-four-year-old Patrick Richmond claims he was beaten by Chicago police and says he has the scars to prove it. The incident started at 57th Street and Prairie Avenue when he was arrested at a Father’s Day picnic.

[...]

Richmond said on the way to lock up, police took a detour down an alley near 53rd Street and King Drive. He said they parked in the most secluded spot, near some bushes, and that’s where the beating occurred.

Richmond’s cousin, Charles Odom, was in the back of the police car.

“The driver jumped out of the car and punched him in the face and I’m like I’m not fitting to die here cause that’s the first thing on my mind to even go through an alley,” Odom said.

“They kicked me in my head, just kicking and stomping me for a whole seven minutes until I say that I was a bitch,” Richmond said.

“I’m saying please man, please say it, ’cause I don’t know what’s about to happen to us,” Odom said.

Richmond said he was also having an asthma attack, but they wouldn’t take him to the hospital until later, when he spit up blood while in police lock up.

This medical report from Provident Hospital reveals he was treated for injuries including a dislocated jaw and multiple cuts and bruises.