eddessaknight's Blog

$$$Unacceptable Tax Return$$$   

 

This example shows the importance of accuracy in your tax return.  The IRS has returned the tax return to a insightful man in New York City implying that he answered one of the questions incorrectly.

 

In response to the question:

 "Do you have anyone dependent on you?, 

 

the man honestly wrote following subtotals:

 

7.1 million illegal  immigrants,

1.1 million crack-heads,

4.4 million  unemployable scroungers,

80,000 criminals in over 85  prisons, at  least

450 idiots in Congress and a group that call  themselves politicians." 

 

The IRS stated that the response he gave was unacceptable :-(

 

>

Unemployment rate at 3.7% lowest rate since 1969.

Labor Department reported Friday the rate edged down from 3.9% the month before employers added 134,000. It extended an extraordinary streak 8 1/2 streak of monthly growth, the longest on record. In effect, that run has added 20 million people to our nations payrolls sine the Great Recession which cost 9 million of their jobs.

Las Vegas Locally:

Big Chicken new business opening created by NBA legend, Shaquille O'Neal, will hire at least 40 people before it officially open in October 

WSJ

 

How It Feels To Be Falsely Accused

My high-profile clients know the painful personal costs of defamation.

 

By Libby Locke

Oct. 4, 2018 7:33 p.m. ET

 

As an attorney, I represent people at the pinnacle of their careers facing front-page reputational attacks. I spend countless hours, day and night, counseling and consoling high-profile clients—from CEOs to celebrities—experiencing acute trauma. Those falsely accused of misconduct—professional or personal, sexual or criminal—face a hellish choice: Let it go and allow the lie to persist as a permanent blot, or fight back through the legal process to clear their name. As we talk through the decision, my clients grapple with the damage to their relationships, lives and reputations.

 

They lament the unfairness of having their reputations destroyed—legacies built from work, faith, relationships and day-to-day treatment of others over a lifetime. They slowly realize there is no easy fix, in part because First Amendment precedents place an enormous burden of proof on defamation plaintiffs. Most poignantly, they grieve over the damage to their families.

 

They worry about who has seen the defamation. The parents of their children’s classmates? The neighbors? The cashier who sees their name on a credit card? They stress out wondering if they’ll ever be able to go to a social gathering without encountering someone who thinks it’s true. They get angry. They cry. For most, it is their darkest hour.

 

 

That is why I was not at all surprised by Judge Brett Kavanaugh’s emotional response last week, shifting from moral indignation at the absurd and vicious political theater to sorrow at the impact of the accusation on his family. Like my clients, Judge Kavanaugh is facing the gut-wrenching trauma of this high-profile—indeed, the most high-profile—reputational attack.

 

He also faces a Catch-22 as a judicial nominee. His detractors in the media have decreed that the only way to demonstrate innocence is with an “authentic” emotional response, yet that response is taken as evidence of lack of an appropriate “judicial temperament”—as if a Justice Kavanaugh would be hearing his own case. Never mind his hundreds of opinions, the universal praise by litigants who have appeared before him, and the scores of women and men who’ve worked for and effusively praise him.

 

Contrast this with the deference afforded to his accusers. The accusations were timed suspiciously, brought forth by Senate Democrats and activist lawyers who lay in wait for six weeks, then leaked to the media just in time to derail a vote. Nonetheless, throngs of people announced that they believed the accusations despite the contradictions, memory lapses and lack of contemporaneous corroboration.

 

The public destruction of a respected jurist by a decades-old uncorroborated allegation has thoroughly refuted the idea that those accused of sexual assault have an unfair advantage over their accusers. No wonder Judge Kavanaugh is angry. Any man falsely accused of sexual assault would be. And any respectable jurist would have been frustrated to have his personal reputation and his family’s well-being destroyed—along with bedrock principles of American jurisprudence like due process, evidentiary burdens and the presumption of innocence.

 

Ms. Locke is a partner in the law firm Clare Locke LLP, based in Alexandria, Va.

 

Appeared in the WSJ October 5, 2018,

 Kavanugh’s accuser got trapped in a lie that could send her to prison - Patriot Pulse

 

 

https://patriotpulse.net/kavanughs-accuser-got-trapped-in-a-lie-that-could-send-her-to-prison/

 

After harassment at airport, Mitch McConnell throws down the gauntlet: ‘We will not be intimidated’

 

October 3, 2018 |  BPR Wire |    Print Article

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell scolded protesters Wednesday after weeks of harassment towards Republican members of the Senate for not actively opposing the nomination of Judge Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court.

 

“Sometimes this intimidation campaign [against Kavanaugh’s confirmation] has been aimed at the nominee … and when that didn’t work, then the far left tried to bully and intimidate members of this body — Republican United States senators,”  McConnell said on the Senate floor. “They’ve tried to bully and intimidate us.”

 

“One of our colleagues and his family were effectively  run out of a restaurant in recent days by these people,” the Kentucky senator continued. “Another reported having protesters physically block his car door, and some have seen organized far left protesters camp out at their homes.”

 

Republican senators, especially members of the Senate Judiciary Committee have seen an increase in protests, disturbance and threats since President Donald Trump revealed Kavanaugh’s nomination in July. Committee chairman Chuck Grassley of Iowa and Sen. Jeff Flake of Arizona were even assigned  special protection in response to the heightened levels of harassment.

 

“I’m not suggesting we’re the victims here … but I want to make it clear to these people who are chasing my members around the hall here or harassing them at the airport or going to their homes,” McConnell said. “We’ll not be intimidated by these people.”

 

The senate majority leader announced Monday that the full senate would be voting to confirm Kavanaugh by the end of the week, after a week-long FBI investigation into allegations of sexual misconduct was completed.

“There’s no chance in the world they’re going to scare us out of doing our duty,” McConnell said. “I don’t care how many members they chase, how many people they harass here in the halls, I want to make one thing perfectly clear: We will not be intimidated by these people.”

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Paid Soros Activists Trapped Flake in an Elevator Before Kavanaugh Flip-Flop   October 1, 2018  Paladino 

‘Watching Flake decide he wants a FBI investigation, never forget … This is why we “get in people’s faces”…’

Two women trapped Sen. Jeff Flake, R-Arizona, in the senator’s elevator at the U.S. Capitol on Sept. 28 and berated him about his  decision to vote “yes” to move Judge Brett Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court nomination to the full Senate.  The women presented themselves as concerned citizens and sexual assault survivors who felt that their voice was ignored during the Kavanaugh hearings.  “I was sexually assaulted, and nobody believed me,” activist Ana Maria Archila said. “I didn’t tell anyone, and you’re telling all women that they don’t matter.”

 

But  National Review reporter John Fund revealed in a Sept. 30  article that the two women are paid activists,  funded by George Soros.

 

Archila is executive director of the  Center for Popular Democracy. She has protested the Kavanaugh hearings from their beginning, and CPD has opposed his nomination.  Archila also has ties to the far-left Working Families Party that endorsed New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo in 2014 and his radical left-wing opponent in 2018.  Maggie Gallagher is an activist for the group,  Fund reported.

 

George Soros’ Open Society Foundations is among CPD’s largest donors.

 

After the confrontation and a series of  back-room negotiations with committee Democrats, Flake caved and said he would vote “yes” in the full Senate on the condition that the  FBI conduct an investigation “limited in time to no more than one week” that would explore no more than “current allegations that are already there.”  Flake said the confrontation did not persuade him to demand an FBI investigation, but leftist activists sure think it did.  Leftist blogger Ana Marie Cox celebrated the in-your-face encounter.   Watching Flake decide he wants a FBI investigation, never forget: This is why we do direct action. This is why we “get in people’s faces.” This is why our stories matter.

Achieve the American Dream, Start a (Little) Business

"The Left Has Already Convicted Judge Kavanaugh", by Bernard Goldberg

 

 

The Left Has Already Convicted Judge Kavanaugh

By BERNARD GOLDBERG October 1, 2018 55 Comments

 

If the FBI investigation into the accusations surrounding Brett Kavanaugh and Christine Blasey Ford turns up convincing evidence that the judge lied about what he did at that high school party 36 years ago, or what he did at a dorm room party while a freshman at Yale, Republicans, overwhelmingly, would abandon him.  He’d stand no chance of becoming a Supreme Court Justice and there’s every likelihood he’d be impeached and removed from his current job as a Federal Circuit Court judge in Washington.

 

 

But if the investigation turns up nothing, if the FBI can’t find even one person to corroborate Professor Ford’s story, or that of the second accuser at Yale, Democrats – every single one on the Senate Judiciary Committee and almost every single one in the entire Senate– will still vote against him.

 

Their verdict was in before the hearings began.  And they found him guilty.

 

The accusation alone, in the age of #meToo, is enough as far as they’re concerned.  We have to believe women when they make allegations of sexual abuse, the feminists say.  The presumption of innocence doesn’t apply outside the courtroom, liberals tell us.

 

 

When a reporter asked Chuck Schumer, the Democrat leader in the Senate, “Do you agree, then, that he has the, quote, ‘presumption of innocence?'” this is how Schumer responded:

 

“There’s no presumption of innocence or guilt when you have a nominee before you,” he said. “Find the facts, and then let the Senate and let the American people make their judgment not whether the person’s guilty or innocent, but whether the person deserves to have the office.” (Emphasis added)

 

Let that sink in.

 

It’s not whether the judge is guilty or innocent.  But if that doesn’t matter, what does?

 

Liberals have a long and noble history of defending the rights of the accused, especially when the evidence against them surfaces suspiciously at the 11th hour and is not backed up by witnesses.  Except, as it turns out, when the accused is a well off conservative who as a kid went to a preppy Catholic school and hung out at country clubs.  Privileged people like that apparently don’t deserve the presumption of innocence.  They already got enough breaks in life.

 

 

That Ms. Ford doesn’t remember where the alleged attack occurred doesn’t bother her supporters in or out of the Senate.  That she doesn’t know how she got to the party or how she got home doesn’t bother them. Why she walked out the front door past her best friend after the supposed attack but never said a word about why she was leaving doesn’t trouble them. That she never told that best friend what happened upstairs at the party is of no consequence to them.  That the best friend has no recollection of Brett Kavanaugh or the party doesn’t matter to them. That the accuser at Yale was drunk as a skunk doesn’t matter, either.

 

And in a perverse way, it makes sense:  Because this isn’t about whether he actually assaulted her.  To Kavanaugh’s opponents, that’s a mere technicality.  It’s about not wanting a conservative on the Supreme Court for a very long time making decisions they won’t like — and blocking him by any means at their disposal.

 

 

Professor Ford says she’s 100 percent sure it was Brett Kavanaugh who attacked her.  She came off as credible at the hearing and may be right despite his vehement denials.  Unlike a lot of hyper-partisans, I don’t know who’s telling the truth and who’s not.

 

But if we’ve turned a corner where the accuser, by the mere fact that she’s made an accusation, gets the benefit of the doubt, where an uncorroborated allegation is enough to sink a man’s career and forever taint his reputation, where the presumption of innocence for some people is an idea whose time came and went, then we’re all in trouble.

 

Liberals, who are constantly reminding us that they’re the enlightened ones, the noble ones who care about fair play, the decent ones who understand the importance of keeping an open mind, have revealed their dark side; they’ve shown us how easy it is for them to sell out their precious principles in favor of raw politics.

 

 

So let’s see what the FBI comes up with.  But let’s not pretend that it will matter to the partisans on the left who already have convicted Judge Kavanaugh … and don’t really care if he actually did any of the things he’s accused of.

Dutch police arrested seven men Thursday suspected of plotting to carry out a "major terrorist attack" at a public event using explosive belts and an AK-47 assault rifle, the public prosecutor's office said.

"Police arrested seven men on Thursday... suspected of being at a very advanced stage of preparation for a major terrorist attack in the Netherlands," it said in a statement, adding one of the suspects had wanted to kill "many victims".

Prosecutors and investigators were "convinced that a terrorist attack was prevented" as a result of the arrests in the cities of Arnhem and Weert which followed a months-long police operation.

Officers had placed a group of people under surveillance, a central figure being a 34-year-old man of Iraqi origin convicted in 2017 of attempting to reach territory controlled by the jihadist Islamic State group, the statement added.

Those arrested by elite special anti-terrorist police teams with helicopter support ranged in age from 21 to 34.

The suspects came from Arnhem, the port city of Rotterdam and villages close to those two cities. Two others in the group also had convictions related to attempts to travel to Iraq or Syria.

"One of the men from Arnhem wanted to commit an attack with a group at a major event in the Netherlands and kill many victims, according to the Dutch Intelligence Service (AIVD)," the prosecutor's office said.

Police had yet to identify the target of the planned attack which the prosecutor's office said was to have included a separate car bombing.

The suspects, who investigators said said were in possession of small arms when they were detained, are expected to appear in court in Rotterdam on Friday.

"They were seeking AK-47 assault rifles, grenades, explosive belts and raw materials with which to make other bombs," investigators said.

My Mom Took Me Overseas and Forced Me Into Being a Teen Bride

Alone in a foreign country I had to plan my escape on my own

 Yasmine Koenig as told to Liz Welch  1 hour 25 minutes ago 

 

From Seventeen

I was 6 years old when my two older sisters went to Palestine to "visit family." At least that's what my mom told me.I was born in Chicago, like my sisters, but our parents are Palestinian, born in Jerusalem. I was four-months-old when our father died - he worked at a gas station and was shot during a robbery. After that, the four of us moved into the basement apartment of my mom's mother's house, where my sisters and I shared a room.

I worshipped my oldest sister growing up. She was rebellious and loved pop music and makeup, which my grandmother and mother couldn't stand. We were raised Muslim, and while my mom didn't make us wear hijabs - headscarves - to school, we did when we went to mosque on the high holidays. Every other day, we wore long-sleeve shirts and pants or knee-length skirts.

 

I don't have too many memories of my sisters, but I do remember how much my oldest sister loved Usher. She was 13 and she'd sing along to his music on the radio in our room. She bought a poster of him, shirtless, and pinned it to the wall next to our bed.

 

He didn't last long. My grandmother saw the poster one day and ripped it off the wall. She was screaming at my sister, and my sister yelled right back - she was feisty! But it didn't matter; Usher was gone. And a year later, so were my sisters.

My mom said they were "going on a trip" to Palestine, but even as a 6-year-old, I'd heard rumors about a diary entry. Something about my sister kissing a boy behind a tree, or writing that she wanted to. I remember large suitcases and both of my sisters weeping as we said goodbye. I cried too, but I was more mad at them for leaving me. Who would I listen to the radio with late at night?

 

Still, I assumed they were coming back. So when my mother told me that they wanted to stay in Palestine, I got really upset. I missed them so much.

The only time I got to see my friends was at school.

In 8th grade, our class took a field trip to tour the high school. No one wore uniforms, like we did in middle school! I could even wear my skinny jeans there. Yep, as strict as my mom was, she did buy me skinny jeans that were super popular then. I remember being in the store and pointing them out and being stunned when she nodded yes, then paid for three pairs at the register. They were the only things I owned that made me feel like a normal kid.

But right before middle school graduation, I came home from school one afternoon to find my mother and grandmother rummaging through my closet.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

My mother was holding a garbage bag and my grandmother had scissors. They were cutting my skinny jeans into pieces and throwing them away.

I was so confused - she'd bought them for me! When I asked my mom why, she said, "They're inappropriate and revealing. You're too old to dress like this now!"

I was furious. All I had left were one pair of baggy jeans, which I hated. For the first time in middle school, I was relieved to have a uniform.

 

As soon as I graduated 8th grade, I started pestering my mom about enrolling me in high school. Every time I asked if she'd done it, she'd say, "Not yet." In July, she said, "I'm signing you up for an all girls' school." But there was a wait list, so then it was going to be online school. I even did my own research and had pamphlets sent to the house, but nothing happened.

 

By September, all of my friends had started school but me. I woke up every day at 10am and watched TV, cleaned the house, and helped make dinner. I was beyond bored. Meanwhile my mom loved having me around. She didn't work, and always said that it was important for me to learn how to be a good housewife. I cringed every time she said that - that was the last thing I wanted to be.

In fact, I really wanted a job, even if it was just working at my step-dad's gas station. Anything to get out of the house. I even asked my step-dad if I could get a workers' permit, which you can get at 15 in Chicago, and he said, "Sure!" But just like with high school, nothing ever happened. It was another empty promise.

My laptop was my refuge.

 

Facebook was the only way for

 me to stay in touch with my friends. I made up a random name that my parents could never guess and chatted with friends throughout the day. If my mom walked into the room, I'd switch the screen to a video game. She had no idea. Earlier that year, when I told friends why I wasn't in school, more than one told me, "That's illegal!" I kind of knew I had the legal right to be in school, but wasn't sure who to tell. My parents didn't care - it's what they wanted!

A year passed, and the following summer, I was chatting on Facebook with a guy I knew from middle school.

When he wrote, "Want to go to Chipotle this Friday?" my heart skipped a beat.

 

I was super excited and typed back, "Sure."

I told my parents that I was going to see my 24-year-old cousin. She was the only person I was ever allowed to visit. She's also incredibly cool and promised to cover for me. I met her at her house, and then she dropped me off at the mall and told me to have a great time.

 

I did! He was cute, and super nice. I told him that my parents were strict and didn't even know where I was. He was like, "No worries!"

 

It was the most fun I'd had in over a year. At the end of our date, I told him that I'd be in touch over Facebook, and floated home.

The next night, I was in the living room watching TV when the doorbell rang. My mom answered, and I heard his voice ask, "Is Yasmine home?"

I froze.

 

My mother started screaming, "Who are you and why are you at this house?"

 

He said, "I'm Yasmine's boyfriend."

 

I could see him standing in front of my mom, her back to me, and was trying to wave to him, like, "Go away! This is a terrible idea!"

 

She threatened to call the police, slammed the door, and then screamed at me: "Go to your room. You're grounded!"

 

The next day, my mom went grocery shopping without me and locked the glass storm door from the outside, which meant I was trapped. For the next two weeks, I was literally kept under lock and key when she left.

And then one day, my mother said, "Pack your bags. We're going to Palestine to visit your sisters."

 

I'd only been there once when I was 10; I don't even remember seeing my sisters then - all I remember is that it was dusty and dry. No green at all. I hated it. Plus, I speak only very basic Arabic, which is what they speak there.

 

I was dreading the trip. Saying goodbye to my little sister was painful - she was 8 by then. She was the only other person who knew, besides my cousin, about my date. I fought back tears and promised I'd be back soon.

My mom said we'd be gone for a month, but I didn't trust her. On the way to the airport, I asked to see my return ticket. I wanted proof that it existed. She was indignant as she showed me the ticket, but it made me feel better.

My mother and grandmother and I landed in Tel Aviv, which was as hot and dusty as I remembered. I felt claustrophobic in the cab, which we took to Ramallah, the Palestinian capital. My grandmother has a house there, and both of my sisters lived nearby.

I was so angry about being there that I wasn't even excited to see my sisters. I couldn't believe that they'd left me all those years before. Now, they were both married with kids. But by the end of that first evening, I relaxed with them. I even told them what happened with my Chipotle date, and they started teasing me, like, "You're such an idiot! With a white guy? Really?"

They thought that if he'd been Muslim, I wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble. I wasn't so sure, but it still felt good to laugh with them about it.

 

About two weeks into our stay, my sisters sat me down and started doing my hair and makeup. I was never allowed to wear makeup at home, so I thought it was cool. When I asked why, they said they wanted me to meet a friend of theirs.

 

Their friend was in his twenties but still lived with his mom, which my sister called "a problem." I didn't understand what she meant by that.

 

He arrived with his mom and uncle and started speaking to me in Arabic. I barely understood anything except for his asking me how old I was.

 

I said, "I'm 15. I just finished 8th grade."

He looked perplexed. So was I.

After he left, I asked my sisters what the meeting was about. They explained that the way to meet suitors is through families. When a family thinks a girl is ready to be married - usually she's part of that decision - they pass word along to other families that they're looking for a husband. The couple then meets through the parents, and if it is a good match, an arrangement is made.

A week passed, and once again my sisters sat me down and started putting makeup on me. They said that another guy was coming to meet me. When I asked, "Who?"

They said, "Don't worry about it. Just have fun."

The doorbell rang and in walked a guy with his parents. I'm 5'8" and he was 5'4", nine years older, and missing half of his front left tooth. Everyone seemed very eager. I was repulsed.

 

I sat stone-faced the entire time they were there. As soon as he and his family left, my mom and grandmother said that they thought I should marry him. They said, "He has a job and a house." That's all it took.

 

I was furious. By then, I realized that they'd brought me to Palestine to get married and planned to leave me there. Instead of berating them, I immediately started thinking of ways to return home on my own. I had watched SVU. I knew this was totally illegal. I just needed to figure out a way to reach a detective in Illinois who could help me escape.

 

I also knew then that I couldn't trust my sisters - anytime I complained to them, they'd just say, "It's not so bad! You'll learn to love him!"

 

He and I met two more times that week and each time, I hoped he'd figure out that I was being coerced. But then, during that third visit, all the men went into one room while the women stayed in another.

 

My sister, mother, and grandmother were chatting with his mother and sisters when I heard the men read the engagement passage from the Koran, which announces a marriage.

 

Startled, I said to my sisters, "What are they doing?"

My oldest sister said, "They're reading the passage."

I shouted, "No!" and fought back tears.

 

My worst nightmare was becoming a terrifying reality. I ran into the bathroom, curled into a ball, and dissolved into tears. How could my family do this to me? I thought about running away, but how? My mother had my passport. I had no money. I was stuck. I started thinking about different ways to die. Anything was better than this.

 

After his family left, I could no longer contain my rage at my mother. "How could you do this to me? I am your daughter!" I shouted. Tears were streaming down my face. I could see my mom was upset, too - she was crying, shaking her head. I think she felt bad about it, but she also felt like it was the best option. I felt so betrayed.

And just then, my grandmother marched into the room and slapped me. "Don't disrespect your mother!" she said, before turning to my mother and saying, "See? She needs this. How else will she learn to be respectful?'

That's when I learned that my grandmother had set the whole thing up. She'd met this man's family at a mall the same week I met him! His parents owned a restaurant and spotted us shopping. They approached her to see if I was an eligible bride for their son. She told them yes, but that I had to be married before she flew back to the States. He had no other prospects, so they were excited I was one.

 

I never liked my grandmother, but I didn't hate her until that moment.

 

The wedding was planned for September 30th, a week and a half away. I was still desperately trying to figure a way out of it. I told my mom, "I'll find a way to leave." She replied, "Either you marry him or someone way older who won't be as nice."

My sisters said the same. "You're lucky." As much as I dreaded what was happening, they made the alternative sound even worse.

 

A few days before the wedding, my oldest sister finally revealed that she was also married against her will. "I was kicking and screaming the whole way," she told me. "But I learned to love him. You will too."

I don't remember the ceremony - everything is such a blur - but I do remember pulling away when he tried to kiss my cheek and my mother hissing, "Kiss his cheek!" I refused.

 

At the end of the wedding party, both of my sisters were so excited about my first night with him. They even said, "Text us afterwards!"

I hated them.

 

The first night was awful. The only thing I'm thankful for is that my husband was not a violent or aggressive man. It could have been so much worse. I get terrible migraine headaches brought on by stress, and I used them to my advantage in the weeks that followed.

 

He took that first week off of work and we spent most of it with his family. I did the best I could to tolerate being around him and his family while I tried to figure a way out of this mess. To do that, I needed to get on the internet.

 

When he went back to his job as a mechanic, he'd be gone by 9am. I'd get up, have breakfast and go to his mom's house to help her clean and make dinner. She had a computer, so one day, I asked if I could use it to talk to my mother and she agreed. Instead, I logged onto Facebook and messaged a friend from 3rd grade and told her where I was and what had happened.

She wrote back immediately, "That's illegal!"

Once again, I knew that, but I didn't know what to do.

I had another friend I met through Facebook who lived in Texas. He was Muslim. I told him what happened, and he wrote, 'You need to call the embassy!' He even sent the number.

 

My heart was pounding as I wrote it in a piece of paper and shoved it into my pocket.

 

On October 14th, I was in our apartment in the afternoon when I finally worked up the nerve to call. I used the Nokia flip phone my husband gave me to talk to him and my sisters.

 

An American-sounding man answered the phone and I blurted, "I'm a U.S. citizen. My parents brought me here against my will to marry a man. I want to go home."

After a moment of silence, he said, "Wow, this is a first. Hold for a moment." He connected me to a man named Mohammed, who asked me for my parents' names and address in the states.

 

I gave him all the proof I could think of that I was a US citizen. I didn't know my social security number and didn't have my passport. He said that was okay, but he needed proof that I was actually married. He asked for the marriage certificate. I had no idea where it was. Then he asked me for my husband's last name, and I realized, I had no idea what that was either.

 

Mohammed told me he'd be in touch once he verified all my information. He called me several times over the next two months. During that time, I learned my husband's last name, which was legally mine as well.

 

As I waited for news, I got lots of migraines.

 

On December 3rd, Mohammed called with the number for a taxi service and the address of a hotel. He told me to be there the next morning at 11am.

 

The next morning, I waited for my husband to leave and shoved all of my belongings - including the traditional wedding gold my husband's family gave me - into my suitcase and called the number. That's when I realized that I didn't even know my address. I told the driver the name of the closest big store and then stayed on the phone with him, telling him when to turn right or left. He still couldn't find me, so I ran down to the main street to flag him down praying no one would see me.

I held my breath for the entire 30-minute ride to the hotel. There, in the parking lot, I spotted a blond woman sitting with a guy in a black van.

 

"Are you with the US embassy?" I asked.

They said yes, and then she patted me down, explaining it was for security purposes, to make sure I was not strapped with any bombs.

 

I said, "Do whatever you need to do!" I didn't care - I was so close to freedom.

 

When they put me in the back seat, I pulled off my headscarf and fought back happy tears: There, with these two strangers, I felt safe for the first time in forever.

We went to the US Embassy in Jerusalem where I spent the day filling out paperwork in order to enter into the  foster care system back in the States. I had no idea what that meant other than from this one cartoon show called  Foster Home for Imaginary Friends, but agreeing to enter foster care wasn't hard - at least it was a new start.

 

That night, a diplomat accompanied me to the airport with two bodyguards, and I was placed on a plane to Philadelphia.

 

On my next flight, I flew from Philadelphia to Chicago O'Hare and sat next to a 20-something guy on his way to his friend's bachelor party who asked me how old I was.

I said, "15."

 

He said, "You're too young to be on a plane by yourself!"

If he only knew.

 

At O'Hare, I had twenty minutes to kill before I was supposed to meet two state officials in the food court, so I went to a computer terminal and logged onto Facebook. I had two accounts at the time: one for friends and one for family. I wanted to see what my family was saying.

A three-page letter from my second oldest sister was the first thing I read. She said she never wanted to see me again, that she hated me, and that if anyone asked her how many sisters she had, she'd say two instead of three. I was devastated.

 

Then I read a group chat between my two sisters, my mom, and my mom's sister.

 

It started, "Yasmine ran away." "What? Where?" And then someone wrote, "She's ruining our reputation!" Not one of them wondered if I was okay.

 

My aunt asked if I had taken my gold. When my sister said yes, my aunt replied, "She could have gotten kidnapped or robbed!"

 

That was the only mention of concern for my wellbeing.

As painful as it was to read those words, it made me realize that I had made the right choice.

 

The people I then met in the airport food court introduced me to a woman from Illinois' Child Protective Services, who took me under her wing. It was 11am, 24 hours after I ran for my life into the streets of Ramallah to escape my forced marriage.

I first moved in with a woman who  fostered several kids, and stayed there for six months. It wasn't ideal - she was very religious and made us go to her Baptist church with her on Saturday and Sunday. But it was still better than what I'd left. This was confirmed when I had to face my mother in court to establish that I should remain a ward of the state, which is what they call kids whose parents aren't fit to take care of them.

 

The first court date was two weeks after I arrived. When I saw my mom, I froze. She was sitting in the waiting room and refused to acknowledge me. She didn't make eye contact; it was as if I didn't exist. I felt an awful mix of hurt and rage.

 

A few months later, I had to testify in a courtroom. My mom was there with her lawyer. He showed photos from my wedding and said, "You look happy! And your mom said that you wanted to be married."

 

I had to explain to a room full of strangers that I was faking that smile to survive and that my mom knew the entire time that I didn't want to marry that man. On the stand, I said, "My mom is lying." That was so painful to have to say - I wept in front of everyone. All the feelings I'd kept inside just poured out.

 

After that hearing, I officially became a ward of the state of Illinois.

 

By then, I'd already started ninth grade. I didn't like my foster mom much. I stopped going to church on the weekends, but she wouldn't let me or my foster brother stay in the house alone so we were locked out until she got home every weekend and weekdays too. It was hard in the Chicago winter, but the agency didn't think I was in immediate danger, so I stayed put. Teens are hard to place.

 

By January 2014, at 16-years-old, I'd been in and out of three foster homes. My strategy was just to survive foster care until I was 18, when I would finally be on my own. So when a couple called Carrie and Marvin came to meet me one weekend, I didn't hold out any hope.

 

Carrie and Marvin had two biological teenagers, both with developmental delays. They understood kids and were super warm, but it still took me a while to open up. I really wanted to make it to 18 living with them, but I never dreamed what actually happened next.

When I hit my one-year anniversary with them, they asked me if I wanted to be adopted. I was shocked! I figured I'd leave at 18 and just be on my own - I never thought there was an alternative. But they told me that they wanted me around forever. I cannot tell you how good that felt - to be wanted, by an actual family. I said yes.

 

No more waking up at 6am to someone saying, "Pack your bags - you're out!" For the first time in my life, I could put things up in my room and it was okay. It was the first time since being in that van with the people from the embassy that I felt safe.

 

I saw my mother one last time in court, at the final termination of parental rights. Carrie had asked her for childhood photos of me, and amazingly, my mom handed them to me there.

 

It was a cold exchange. She was expressionless. At first, I was insulted. It all seemed so easy, her giving me up. But it was really nice to get the photos. She didn't have to do that.

 

Now Carrie has them around the house. It makes me feel like I'm really part of her family, like I'm her kid.

I finally reconnected on Facebook with my sister a few months ago, the one who'd said she hated me. She admitted that she wished she'd had the nerve to do what I had done. Now I understand why she was so upset: I got away. She didn't.

 

I just graduated from high school - the first in my biological family to do so! In September, I'm going to Illinois State University and just learned that I won a full scholarship, which means my tuition will be waived for the next five years. I plan to study mass communications, and may want to do something with computers, considering they are literally what saved me.

 

Regardless of what I end up doing for a living, the thing that makes me the most excited is that I get to choose - what I want to wear, who I want to date, or even marry, and ultimately, who I want to be.

 

Yasmine Koenig initially shared her story with  Children's Rights for inclusion in their annual Fostering the Future campaign.  Read more about Yasmine and others who have experienced foster care.

 

Pasted from <https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/mom-took-overseas-forced-being-151908352.html>

Fifth-grader lies down to protect the American flag from touching the ground: 'Way to show America how it's done'

'Believe Women' Is Perilous Baloney

THE MAGICAL GREEN HAT

 

  Visiting in South Western USA, I needed to go to the emergency room. Not wanting to sit there for 4 hours, I put on my MAGIC GREEN HAT.

 

When I went into the E.R., I noticed that 3/4 of the people got up and left.  I guess they decided that they weren't that sick after all.  It cut at least 3 hours off my waiting time.

 

Here's the hat:

It also works at Dept. of Motor Vehicles. It saved me 5 hours.

 

At the Laundromat, three minutes after entering, I had my choice of any machine, most still running.

 

It might also cut your wait time at the grocery store.

 

But...don't try it at McDonald's…      The whole crew ran out the back door and I never did get my order!

 I'm still adding it up! Baffling? ?

 

 

 

Mystifying ... isn't it? Gosh I wonder why?

I'm still trying to figure out how I lost.

 

Was it the Russian Uranium Deal?

 

Was it Wikileaks?

 

Was it Podesta?

 

Was it Comey?

 

Was it having a sexual predator as a husband?

 

Was it Huma Abedinï’s sexual predator husband Anthony Weiner?

 

Was it because the Clinton Foundation ripped off Haiti?

 

Was it subpoena violations?

 

Was it the congressional testimony lies?

 

  Was it the corrupt Clinton Foundation?

 

Was it the Benghazi fiasco?

 

  Was it pay for play?

 

  Was it being recorded laughing because I got a child rapist off when I was an attorney?

 

Was it the Travel Gate scandal?

Was it the Whitewater scandal?

  Was it the Cattle Gate scandal?

  Was it the Trooper-Gate scandal?

 

  OR...

  Was it the $15 million for Chelsea’s apartment bought with foundation money?

 ï¿½

  Or my husband’s interference with Loretta Lynch & the investigation?

 ï¿½

  Or happily accepting the stolen debate questions given to me?

 

Or my own secret server in our house and disdain for classified information?

 

  Or deleting 30,000 emails?

 

  Or having cell phones destroyed with hammers?

 

  Was it the Seth Rich murder?

 

  Was it the Vince Foster murder?

 

Was it the Gennifer Flowers assault & settlement?

 

Was it the $800,000 Paula Jones settlement? 

Was it calling half the United States deplorable? 

  Was it the underhanded treatment of Bernie Sanders?

 

  Was it Bill’s impeachment?

 

  Was it the lie about being under sniper fire in Bosnia?

 

  Was it the $10 million I got for the pardon of Marc Rich? 

  Or the $6 BILLION I “lost” when in charge of the State Dept.?

 

Or because I am a hateful, lying, power-hungry, overly ambitious, greedy, nasty person?

 

Gee, I just can’t seem to put my finger on it.