"Politics is the art of the possible."-- the usual American adage
I have no idea what the Pennsylvania state legislature does. I know how it operates, vaguely, all states are rough models of the federal branch, but Sims apparently mews, a well groomed kitten, as Babette Josephs before him saw herself as a granular caretaker, and if I give Sims a piece of my angry mind, which I feel like doing, apart from my convoluted grievance letter I, courageously, sent his chief of staff, then I am truly playing with fire. My verbal exchange with Tim Keller, the district coordinator, was farcical. Keller's response to me, to contract the city's police, is indicative of that-- a woman not to be taken seriously for the executive malfeasance against her on which the clock has long run out-- but this doesn't mean I haven't been disproportionately victimized either, no choice but to tango, or not, with an elected lawyer faggot, grisly spastic troll up against Democratic politicians who don't need her, or reaching out to conservatives who have:
a. no answer
b. pity for my situation
It is my fault for not having acted against Liberty in the appropriate time frame, and pragmatists would no doubt tell me I need to accept this. Limitations exist for a reason-- but the fallout, which I documented to Brian's chief as best I could, has been incremental, eroding my well being, destroying my rights as a citizen of this country. If Sims is so worried about hate crimes against homosexual activities and preferences, I myself am a living embodiment of genocide, once removed.
Wisely, I made no reference to Sims sexual practices, as I know nothing of them, but I have to look on a fruit's stature to hope to extricate myself from a cruel, pernicious decline, unless my federal senator surprises me and comes up with a solution that restores my dignity. I'd really like to go back to work, apart from destroying section 202 housing.
I consider it a hate crime that I've had to live my life under 202's regulatory stricture.
No comments:
Post a Comment