IMMIGRATION

Key U.S. Code (USC) sections in Title 8 governing illegal immigration include 8 U.S.C. § 1325 (improper entry), 8 U.S.C. § 1326 (illegal re-entry), and 8 U.S.C. § 1324 (bringing in/harboring). These laws criminalize unlawful entry, with penalties ranging from fines to imprisonment, particularly for repeat offenders or those assisting illegal entry. 

Core USC Sections Addressing Illegal Immigration

8 U.S.C. § 1325 (Improper Entry by Alien): Criminalizes entering the U.S. at unauthorized times or places, eluding examination, or using fraudulent documents.

Penalties: Fines and/or up to 6 months in federal prison for the first offense; up to 2 years for subsequent offenses.

8 U.S.C. § 1326 (Reentry of Removed Aliens): Makes it a felony for any alien previously deported or removed to re-enter, attempt to re-enter, or be found in the U.S. without authorization.

Penalties: Fines and/or up to 2 years in prison (or higher if the original removal was due to criminal conviction).

8 U.S.C. § 1324 (Bringing in and Harboring Certain Aliens): Prohibits smuggling, transporting, or harboring individuals known to be in the U.S. illegally.

8 U.S.C. § 1324a (Unlawful Employment of Aliens): Prohibits employers from knowingly hiring unauthorized workers and mandates civil penalties for violations. 

Liberals are stupid

I think it's funny how liberals and some republicans keep complaining that Trump is not doing what he promised. Y'all are stupid. He did drain the swamp and now the monsters are roaming around in the open committing their atrocities and thinking they are above the law. 

He let them cheat in 2020 and 2022, so he could prove how corrupt the deep state was. It worked.

Furthermore, do you remember being a kid and your best friend was getting ready to move? Your friend's dad saying they would leave about noon. But you and your friend caused so much havoc that you distracted his father from getting things done and they did not leave until midnight. You and your best friend were happy for a few more hours together, but the change was inevitable. That's exactly what liberals are doing. Raising hell, so Trump can't get his tasks completed. Protests and riots are just distractions to take society's focus away from the corruption of the Democrats.

For the love of God, let him work for us. 

Lamium amplexicaule

Little memories return as everything else fades away. I'm dying or losing my mind. I embrace either. Both are eternal bliss.

I remember 1975. Everything seemed like a cartoon. Life was elastic. Temporary tattoos. The Groovy Ghoulies. The dark, violent, painful memories that left shadows lurking in my soul. 

I was stuck in the echo chamber. I could hear everything. The wings of a fly buzzing around the classroom and the silence after it's feet made loud clacks as it landed on my desk.  Clocks ticking in the classroom. The breathing of other students. The sweat dripping from Refugio's forehead and hitting the floor. Mrs. Schneider rubbing her fingers on her forehead in frustration of quiz answers. But then that was all silenced by the loud buzz that pierced my ears. At times, a short lived high pitched siren-esque attack and other times a low drone that lasted for hours. I had to learn to read lips, during those episodes. I thought I was going mad.

The only escape was when Refugio and I  would wander to our sacred field of Lamium amplexicaule to play marbles. Bella would tag along because everyone else made fun of her. She had seizures and emanated the overwhelming chemical smell of her medicine. Refugio and I didn't mind. As we played marbles, we talked about the heroes of WW II. It was only thirty years in the past. Close enough to touch. The little purple flowers made me think of London for some unknown reason. Poor Bella would offer a whiff of chemical warfare. Our battle of agility with marbles, was our attempt at being soldiers and tossing grenades.  We defeated the Germans every time.

Sometimes Lavonne Fox and Stacey Greenwood would come out and cheer for the marbles. We liked those days. Lavonne had a little transistor radio, and we could hear songs from England. Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. We were little gods and goddesses in our field of purple flowers. 

Monday, we were 8 years old. Trading cards, playing marbles, and singing "You're a Grand Old Flag."

 Fiday, I'm 59, still hear all the noise, but don't know where my childhood friends are. No time for flowers. 

Oct 1985

I was out drinking with the boys. The mighty 4th ID was hell-bent on creating a memorable night. We would leave a dent in history in Ansbach. Ooo-ah!

Halfway through Laura Branigan's "Self Control," I dropped my manners, grace, and pride on the dance floor. She swooped in and saved me. Elegantly.

My drunk-man waltz initiated unintended contact. Two drinks hit the floor. I turned and started to say, "Excuse you," but could not find the words. She was beautiful. I was embarrassed. She said , "Of course, I would like to dance."

My mind wandered. We had just left Camp Henry in Daegu, Korea.. Jerry found a wife there, but I had remained steadfast and honor-bound to our assignment.  The boys played as I completed a crucial negotiation between faction leaders. Back to the now. This was not a "love you long time" moment. This was Germany. Bavaria, to be exact. This was a "love you right here, right now, in this moment" moment.  The DJ snapped me from my reverie. "Abhotten!" 

As our dance ended, she offered, "You go get drinks, and I will talk to the DJ."  

I will never forget the next song, "Ohne Dich." Without you...

https://youtu.be/JxkS1m05C5c?si=ItKv-TTAcwAMSP8f

I don't want to remember the rest of the night. She collapsed halfway through our dance.

Kaspar Hauser

Margravial Opera House in Bayreuth, Germany.

130 km NE

Happy 28 year anniversary. My Jezebel.

Today would have been my 28 year wedding anniversary. But my ex-wife chose a 40 something year old who was cheating on his wife with a married  17-year-old, over our family. He divorced his wife and married the 17-year-old, and my ex had the nerve to be a bridesmaid and hump the guy the day after their wedding. She told me that she was Catholic and could do that as long as she went to confession and said her "Hail Marys"and "Our Fathers." She said I should try it. That it was liberating. 

I found out later that she had 16 lovers in our 11 year marriage (including her ex-boyfriend, a student she was supervising, and some of my colleagues that I thought were friends). She admitted it to me. She said I was always working. Really? We had a house. We had two cars. We had insurance. But she said that was not enough. She needed mystery and excitement. She said that some people do not steal for monetary value but for the excitement and thrill of getting away with it. She claimed that was why she was cheating on me. The thrill of wondering what I would do if I caught her in bed with another man. Fucking twisted. 

She said only men could be narcissists. Women were just victims. Whatever.

It was fun until it wasn't. I don't miss the psychological or physical abuse. I wonder if she became an alcoholic because of her parents. Or if her parents became alcoholics because of her. She would write herself a script for Xanax and drink 500 ml of Crown Royal every night. Talk about madness. I survived the storm with most of my sanity.

This day is now a celebration of my independence. I now understand Charles Bukowski. Women will always lie and leave you in the cold. Alcohol will always tell the truth and keep you warm.

Happy would-be Anniversary to my dumb ass.

Written for Alison E Yaklin

She was wrong about almost everything. She said Courtney would never find out about the ongoing affair with Chris Porteau. Apparently she did. 

She said her license would never be in jeopardy. She should have never given me that hard-drive. I have every email and love letter between her and Chris the priss. I've given it over to the state ethics board. Happy Anniversary.

She was right about never giving up her relationship with her fukboi. And she was right about turning Byron against me. For this, I detest her pathetic existence. She may have Scotty's House fooled, but she WILL stand before God.

Her

I was a fan of  The Cure for a few years until I realized they were like a drug. They were taking me deeper and deeper into the miasmic haze of depression and self-destruction. 

I woke up one morning drugged up and cuffed. I had no idea who she was. Numb. Snippets of unimaginable fantasies echoed in and out of my mind. Each one tied to a dark harmonic strand of The Cures "Pictures of You." We were going to OD together. 

We had danced in the red pulse through the night. A kiss. Darkness...

I am glad we failed. Or am I?

I don't know where she is. Bavaria somewhere? Was she real? 

I can't believe with all the crazy things I did that I'm still here.

Leave Me Be

I don't want your pity. I don't want your understanding. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.

I gave humanity many chances. I am tired.

The lies. Betrayal. Use. Abuse. Abandonment. They left me cold and empty inside. The only fire that kept me warm was that of rage. It consumed me.

There is no hate. There is no love. There is only indifference. Pain has become by immortal lover.

I have made peace with the madness. Solitude is my kingdom.

I want to be left alone. Otherwise that cold steel blade will draw forth a warm, red, unstoppable river. I will be damned for eternity. Self-destruction in inevitable.

I am always watching. I am always aware. Stay away. I am no longer man. I am a monster. You have been warned.