Negro Arrested In Hammer Robbery

Danbury police say the investigation against Nicholas V. Negro, 35, a social studies teacher at John Jay High School, is ongoing. Negro is accused of a botched robbery at 7-Eleven on Mill Plain Road in Danbury, Conn. late last month....


Negro also was charged with drunken driving after crashing into a gas station in 2010


Also see:

The Asshole Blanket


The Half-Ton Woman Accused of Murder (Documentary)

On 18 March 2008 a two-year-old boy was beaten to death in a Texan border town. His aunt, Mayra Rosales, was the only one with him at the time and was charged with his murder. But was this really possible?

Mayra weighed nearly 500 kg, was bed-ridden and totally immobile. So why was she confessing to a heinous crime she seemingly could not have committed?

This incredible film follows the many twists and turns in the case with intimate interviews with Mayra, her family, and the investigators, lawyers and doctors involved.

Caution. Some viewers may find the imagery in this video disturbing.


Dont Give a Fu@k (VIDEO)

Hell In Seventh Heaven (Short Story)

Hell in Seventh Heaven 

The “Heaven Space Resort” has taken five years and a vast fortune to construct, but promises to be the premiere vacation destination for decades to come. Not only is this the first and only space station dedicated entirely to civilian tourism, it is chock full of the latest technological wizardry and the most luxuriant comforts from home, to enhance the unparalleled experience of two weeks in Heaven.

The station is comprised of seven separate modules. The first module, and the second largest of the seven, is the Command Center. This is where the business of being in space is taken care of. The Core Crew is able to be completely self contained within this module, with their own living facilities and life-support systems located here. This module is also designed to serve as a lifeboat for guests of the station in case of emergency, and is equipped with one of the station’s two docking stations. Module Two acts as the interface between the business of space, and the business of tourism. This area is largely an administrative area, and is equipped with a state-of-the-art medical bay as well, foreseeing the problems that may arise with civilians who have not undergone the rigors of full Astronaut training and testing. Modules Three through Six contain the living quarters for the Resort Crew, cooking and laundry facilities, engineering areas, and plenty of storage for the basic necessities of life in space.

Module Seven is the main resort, affectionately called “Seventh Heaven.” Here, guests are treated to a stunning view of the Earth through enormous see-through panels. But if they get bored of that after a while, there is a movie theatre, a bar, the main dining area, a gaming area, and an exercise area. All of these of course, are centrally located between luxurious suites, which come equipped with the latest in artificial romantic companionship by Conglomerate subsidiary Fleshbot, if so desired.

The following is taken from the account documented by Resort Director Attomant DonLuen in his own words, and verified through the station’s A/V recording components. (Some entries have been edited or removed to preserve continuity.)

Command Crew departs, after giving me a final brush-up on command operations. I have decided to stay with the station, confident that the situation down on Earth will improve. It seems that once again the nations of the world are perched precariously before the precipice of unrestricted war. But, as we all know, this is not the first time, so global war need not be so. I try to think of the Cuban Missile Crisis, the failed nuclear launch by Iran, and the Battle of the Taiwan Strait. All of these could have led mankind down the road to annihilation expeditiously, but they did not.

In the meantime, I have decided to stay on-board to maintain the systems which keep this station flying high. The Core Crew had only consisted of two personnel since the station has not yet officially opened yet. The Doctor was one of the last staff members scheduled to arrive, before operations were postponed due to the crisis, but the Lieutenant Commander became violently ill during his sleep-period. Commander Tazin had the choice of letting the Lieutenant Olengarth die, quite literally it appears, or to bring him back down to Earth for surgery. The station is supposed to be able to operate unmanned for at least several months at a time, but this has not yet been tested. At the behest of my employer who has invested so much in this project, I have elected to stay. I am no Astronaut, but I have a firm grasp of how this automated station operates now, thanks to the Commander. I also have ample study material, and obviously, direct comms with Ground Control to assist.

The Commander has promised that she will return to personally relieve me of my duty herself, but we both know her decision was most likely the end of her career. Conglomerate would have rather seen me try to fly the Angelica Shuttle and die trying, than to risk Heaven. What’s done is done.


Commander Tazin has informed me directly by comms link that the Lieutenant faced complications, but is expected to survive.

I think I will begin to explore my habitat further today. Since arriving five days ago now, I have not left the Command Module. I was anxious to explore the resort area, but it seems clear now that becoming familiar with the Command Center has paid off. I think I can manage to go about my own duties now though, as everything seems to be running smoothly here. I will bring the rest of the station online and verify the delivery data against the storage facilities. Air and water are showing full levels, but the luxury goods are only at about 65% according to my figures. Even so, there should be plenty of food if I end up having to stay longer than expected. At this point, my stay is estimated at twelve days remaining.


Lieutenant Olengarth has died.


All remains normal. I am spending most of my time in the Command Module still, but have tried out a few of the gadgets that will surely impress our most discerning guests. I must admit, I am tempted to activate one of the companion units. I have never seen one in live operation yet, only in digital presentations. I wonder what this sort of technology will do to society when it becomes main stream. It is certainly quite controversial, but since they are so expensive, the issues are not really pushed. I know my fiancé would not approve of my curiosity, however scientific, and whether or not it directly relates to my job. Well, another day perhaps. For now, I will go back to contemplation with the most spectacular view I have ever enjoyed. I don’t think I could ever get tired of it.


The Ground Control Center (GCC) had originally hoped to have a replacement crew in place by this date. They have given me little details for the delay, other than to say that the original mission was scrapped, in favor of a more useful and cost-effective mission now being planned. Conglomerate has yet to prove that they can perform two-week turnaround missions on a regular basis. I wonder if that fact is getting by the investors in this project.


My fiancé, Kristy, is concerned. She reports that people are getting sick in growing numbers in my home region, with an unknown illness. She also reports that there is an increased police presence, buttressed by regular troops, and irregularities in media reporting. Neither of us have voiced what our real concern is. GCC assures me that there is no need for concern, and has offered to fly Kristy there. I see no reason for this though, as our personal comms work fine. California or New York makes no difference.


This is the first time I am second-guessing my decision to stay here. Kristy tells me that the situation there has grown much worse. That people are dieing in large numbers, but that nothing is being reported in the media. She does not want to leave the house, but is concerned that she does not have enough food to wait out the crisis. GCC has now rescinded their offer to fly her to California.

I have begun intercepting global comms frequencies, and have been able to piece together information that leads me to conclude this problem is not just in New York. Perhaps it is better to be out here for now, but I cannot help but feel that I should be with my fiancé.


I have not yet heard from my fiancé, and it is well beyond our regular call time. Needless to say, I am quite worried.


I am sick with worry. Still no word from Kristy, and I have been unable to establish comms with any member of my family. GCC reports what I have already suspected. That a biological attack has happened. The military has seized and/or blocked most frequencies. The situation is quite confused. No one is quite sure who has attacked who. The biological agents were released in a clandestine manner. It seems to be a silent war, but people are dieing around the globe more quickly and in larger numbers than in any other war man has ever known.


GCC has informed me that a return flight to Heaven has been indefinitely postponed. I am not sure how to take this news. Does this mean they will still come when they can? When the crisis has ended? Even after a terrible war, Conglomerate will capitalize, and I am sure they will still value this station. But how long will this be?
I must do some serious re-calculating of my supplies here. I can’t concentrate though. My mind is running in different directions and I am stuck in this tin can.

(Observation note: Subject has broken from outlined routine.)


I awoke to a piercing alarm. High radiation detected. I thought it was probably a solar flare at first. It was not.

Lucky me. I got a view from Heaven of a global thermonuclear exchange. The trails behind little specs that were missiles. I zoomed in on a few of them with the observation lenses mounted in the hotel windows, but didn’t want to get caught looking through one during a flash. And there were more than enough flashes. I don’t know how many. Some of the mushroom clouds were larger than others. New York. It’s gone.

I have been unable to contact GCC.

I have suffered vomiting, spasms, and convulsions as a result of worry and the shock of what I have witnessed. I have broken into the locked medical supply, and self-medicated hoping to dull the symptoms. DAY THIRTY_EIGHT

I have been unable to sleep without medication. If my calculations are correct, I should be able to survive up here for about two years with the supplies on hand, but I do not know what regular maintenance procedures might have to be done in that time, or even if I have the supplies to do them. Perhaps I should close off the other modules. I hate the thought of being even more confined though. The awesome feeling of freedom up here is long gone now. I have never felt more trapped or more helpless. I miss Kristy. I wonder if she made it. I wonder a lot of things now.

(Observation note: Subject’s routine has become completely erratic. Personal hygiene maintenance not being performed regularly. Dangerous use of medications.)


I have refrained from touching the alcoholic beverages up to now, lest I lose control of myself, but I have decided to try to escape myself for a while. I am going to get drunk, turn on some old comedy movies, and fire up one of these Fleshbots to see how well they work. The view outside is terrible. There is nearly complete cloud cover over Earth, spiked with the most vicious storms I think anyone has ever seen.

(Observation note: Daily log no longer maintained after DAY 42.)  


Picked up some radio chatter, but did not understand the language. Unable to determine if it was live or recorded. Ran through some systems-checks I have been neglecting, everything seems fine.

Victoria is good company, but she doesn’t conversate very well. Well, she’s better than no company at all anyway. They really need to come up with a new generation of these things. I will be putting that in my report. She’s quite robotic.


(Observation note: Detachment from reality becoming more prevalent. Severe emotional swings, deviant activity.)  


I once went to an air-show, in 1988. Oldsmobile, Delta 88. Crazy eight crazy eight, must have got home late. Someone ate my dinner.


Contact!!! I have spoken with real people! There were three people on-board the International Space-Station when the calamity started. Their comms had been damaged by a fire in their station, in which one of their crewmembers died, sadly. They managed to survive however, and trapped a passing satellite to pirate parts from to restore their comms. I am ecstatic to talk with someone after all this time. But there is even better news. They have re-established contact with Houston. The situation on the surface is said to be terrible, yet NASA has been planning a shuttle mission to recover them. I am promised a rendezvous as well!!! I am going to be rescued by NASA!

I wonder about Kristy. I doubted that I would ever get the chance to search for her. Now I am wondering once again if I will find her alive. 

(Observation note: Stark behavioral changes noted. Some semblance of routine and normal activity restored.)  


There is no rescue. There was a mishap when the NASA shuttle docked with ISS. I could see the explosion from here. Debris came my direction, while other pieces burned into the Earth’s atmosphere. Pieces of debris damaged the water storage tanks, which is now leaking uncontrollably. I estimate that my water supply will expire in less than a week. I have decided to relieve myself of my command, before I do something drastic to this station. Perhaps someone will one day return to this station, and recover what has been documented here. I have elected to inject myself with an overdose of morphine, while enjoying the view from Seventh Heaven. It should induce a painless, ethereal transit into death in a matter of minutes.


(Observation note: Subject completed self-injection of substance. Radio-set is heard echoing through passageways, after injection complete, with broken transmissions. Subject begins thrashing, hearing the message, but lethargy sets in quickly. Subject is unable to respond. Complete radio transmission is as follows: “Heaven Space Resort, come in. Do you copy Attomant…? Come in Heaven Station. This is Commander Tazin, do you read me…? Attomant…are you receiving this message? If you can hear me, be on notice. Shuttle Angelica is operational. Repeat, Shuttle Angelica operational. Launch sequence initiated. Rendezvous to occur in twenty-two hours. I am coming to get you Attomant. I hope you can hear me. I have someone else here with a message……Atto, it’s Kristy. Can you hear me……?”)




Paramedic Escapes Charges After Critical Head-On Wreck

In May of this year there was a head-on crash between an ambulance and a full-size pickup truck on a semi-rural road in upstate New York. The damage was extensive, but thankfully no one was killed. There were serious injuries though.

The driver of the ambulance, a 43-year old paramedic, was in critical condition after he was extricated from the twisted wreck. He was airlifted to the Albany Medical Center. Also in the ambulance was his 22-year old girlfriend, an EMT. It was reported that she suffered a head-injury but that her condition was less serious. They were both on duty at the time of the crash, moving the ambulance from one station to another, but they were not on an emergency call and there was no patient on-board. The wreck occurred just before 7 a.m.

An 18-year old male had to be extricated from the mangled pickup truck he had been driving. but it was reported that he had only minor injuries. His 21-year old male passenger also escaped without serious injury.

You can read local reporting at the folling links:

Daily Freeman

Times-Herald Record

The investigation has determined that the wreck occurred when when the ambulance traveled over the center double-yellow line and struck the pickup truck which was traveling in the opposite direction. No tickets were issued in the accident.

Wait what? No tickets were issued?

According to a report from YNN:

Ulster County Undersheriff Frank Faluotico says it’s not uncommon for tickets to not be issued in accidents like this and the investigation has been completed.

Accidents like this one? Does he mean unintentional accidents, or wrecks in which first-responders are involved and shown favoritism?

Perhaps it could be best summed up by the comments of a local person, who wishes to remain anonymous but had this to say:

Having worked side by side with people from Mobile Life this wreck certainly put my stomach in a knot, and I am certainly glad it didn't turn out any worse than it did. But I find it absolutely ridiculous that there were no tickets issued. It was obviously not intentional, that's why they call it an accident. But the paramedic crossed over the line into oncoming traffic. That is what caused the wreck. And you can damn well bet that if it was YOU who made that mistake, and hit an emergency vehicle, they would have thrown the book at you. And if I was the person in the other car, I would be in a fit of rage right now that the person who injured me was not going to be held accountable.

Precisely. An accident is an accident. Yet tickets are issued at accidents almost universally except, it seems, when a person wearing a badge is at fault.

Now don't get me wrong here, I am thankful to the job that first-responders do in saving lives and coping with all sorts of human tragedy. Especially firefighters, and of course emergency medical personnel who's sole purpose in life is to save lives. But yet again, we see another example of how there are two classes of citizens in this country when it comes to how the law is applied. There are the favored, the police, their friends and family, and then there are the rest of us who pay their salaries and get no such special privilege. 


Racial Profiling or Bad Police Work?

The oppression of the modern police-state against the people is something that can't be understated, and seems to only get worse by the day here in America. From criminal cops, to incompetent cops, to flat out bad policy which the police are there to enforce,  it's little wonder that there are more and more Americans who are fed up and speaking out.

Unfortunately, there is a racial dynamic to these problems as well. There are racist people people in our society and therefore it should come as no surprise that a certain amount of that will make it into police forces. But racism and bigotry are not necessarily synonymous either. Racial profiling is not necessarily born of some inherent hatred of people with different levels of melanin. It has been argued by some that, statistically speaking, black people are more dangerous than white people. Even within the black community, a black person is far more likely to be killed by another black person.

To look at it another way, if you happen to be driving a Honda Accord, the police may "profile" you based on the car you are driving. They may give you a little closer scrutiny in a routine traffic stop, ask a few more questions, be a bit more insistent, based on the fact that the Accord is the most frequently stolen car in America. It's not the job of the police to harass Honda owners though simply because they didn't choose to buy American. Which is why a whole host of other factors should go into the formulation of deciding whether or not there is something suspicious going on.

They are probably not as likely to be so suspicious of a woman driving a Accord with two kids in the car on a Sunday afternoon, as they would be of a teenager who was stopped in the middle of the night for driving without the headlights on. It also doesn't rule out the possibility that a mother of two might be driving a stolen Ford around town on a Sunday afternoon either. So from these examples we can see that while profiling may have some basis in general context when an officer conducts an investigation, it is not applicable as the entire basis of an interaction with police. It's just bad police work to be overly focused on any particular profile, all moral considerations aside. This is one good reason why profiling should not be the basis of policy as it is now in places in places like New York City.

An Inside Look at NYPD's 'Stop and Frisk' Policy

Mayor Bloomberg Defends Race Comments on Stop-and-Frisk

While the crap-storm swirls around the racial element of the deluded Mayor's policy and his comments, the core truth of the matter gets completely left out. The race-card has trumped the real flaw in the policy. That flaw is the blatant disregard for the 4th Amendment of the Constitution. The problem is not that the NYPD is stopping and frisking minorities. The problem is that they are stopping and frisking anyone without probable cause or a warrant. The problem is that there is a policy in place that would even allow people to be stopped simply on the basis of their skin color in the first place.

The debate over percentages and numbers is beside the point. If this despicable policy were not in place, then the police could not be stopping and harassing minorities or anyone else. The problem is not that minorities are being targeted by this policy, the problem is the policy itself. While white people may not be stopped as frequently, you can be sure that a white kid low-riding his pants, wearing hip-hop duds and listening to Immortal Technique is just as likely to be harassed by the NYPD. People with tattoos, people with piercings, people living in high crime areas, people driving Honda Accords may all be targeted without actual cause.

Of course, this is not just a NY thing. Black folk often feel that they are being targeted because of their race alone. Sometimes their complaint has some validity. Often times though, it doesn't. Take this case of a man who was arrested for DUI, even though he wasn't drunk.

Sober Man DUI: Arizona Driver Blows 0.000, Gets Penalized

The 64-year old black man was arrested, thrown into the back of a police vehicle and had his car impounded, even though he was not drunk at all. The officer disagreed with the breathalyzer device and decided to make the arrest anyway based on the fact that Jessie Thornton had bloodshot eyes. Keep in mind that alcohol doesn't always cause bloodshot eyes, and that it is just as illegal to drive under the influence of substances like marijuana as it is to drive drunk. Thornton admits his eyes may have looked bloodshot, but says that may have been due to a late night swim at a fitness center.

Mr. Thornton doesn't see a flaw in the law though, and he doesn't complain that the officer was just incompetent and unable to tell the difference between a DUI and a man who just climbed out of a swimming poor. Instead, he believes the officer was a racist.

“It was driving while black,” he said, adding: “I just don’t want any of this to happen to somebody else.”

Was the officer really a racist though? Was he really profiling the driver? It's possible, but there is no real reason to believe that based on the information which Mr. Thornton himself shared with the media in that article. So outside of that, either the officer was utterly incompetent, or he was just a cop harassing a citizen. A bully, which is more often than not the fact of the matter. Those same two options stand in this following case, where a white woman was arrested for being drunk, when she was actually the designated driver and had not touched a drop of alcohol that night.

Heather Squires was arrested for DUI without drinking a drop of alcohol

In short, police are not the spokespersons for "white people" and are not a standing army to protect whites from blacks. It's time we take a step back from the racial issues and take a good hard look at what is happening to our country. All of us, black, white, and all the rest across the board are being targeted by a fascist police-state. We are not so different at all really, we the people that is, and we have a common enemy. Tyranny.

First they came for the communists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist.

Then they came for the socialists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew.

Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Catholic.

Then they came for me,
and there was no one left to speak for me.

-attributed to pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the sloth of German intellectuals following the Nazis' rise to power and the subsequent purging of their chosen targets, group after group.

Also see:

Papers Please (Checkpoint Video)

Papers Please Incident Makes Cops Looks Like Gestapo

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