SocietyCommentary
How Gosnell’s House of Horrors Made Me Pro-Life
In 2013, Kermit Gosnell was convicted for murdering infants born alive during attempted abortion procedures. (Photo: Yong Kim/MCT/Newscom)
Ann
Finding the Sun
This is what $20 million hidden under a mattress looks like
Published January 24, 2017
(U.S. Attorney’s Office – District of MA)
Ever wondered what $20 million looks like hidden underneath a mattress? Well, the US Attorney’s Office in Boston has you covered.
Federal officials posted a picture of the jaw-dropping scene on Twitter Monday, just weeks after uncovering the cash during a money laundering bust related to TelexFree Inc.’s $3 billion global fraud case.
“Photo of $20M seized in box spring following arrest of Brazilian national in scheme to launder proceeds of TelexFree,” the prosecutors’ office tweeted, along with the photo.
The image stems from a search conducted on Jan. 4 inside the Westborough, Mass. apartment of Cleber Rene Rizerio Rocha, who was charged in a criminal complaint with one count of conspiring to commit money laundering in connection to the alleged pyramid scheme involving TelexFree.
According to the complaint, the internet phone service company ripped off about half of their participants, or roughly 1 million people across the world.
***
Money sure is important to people. Currency in one form or another has always been important. Sea shells to some indigenous tribes. Gold. Silver. Horses. Goats. Slaves. Just about anything of substance is valued as a form of currency.
I hate gold just as I hate money, though the game of ownership is fun. Give me gold and I’ll ‘sell’ it for copper. Give me copper and I’ll make something out of it. Give me a slave and I’d have someone to talk to, (just kidding, slavery is wrong in any form).
Sure, a person needs currency to survive in this world if they want to use cell phones, computers, cars, etc… and therein lays the desire to have money.
It is fun to study societies living entirely off the land. To see how they interact with each other. Australia is rich in that regard. Of course as the modern world completely chokes this world it is harder and harder to find people who are born of the world, are the world, and die. Sad.
Today the Sun catches my attention. Today I get to think of how magnificent the body near this planet is so giving, so constant, so real. There is no cost in finding the sun. It is reliable, enjoyable, and wonderful. Today I found the sun, and it makes me smile.
Blind
This is
It is what it is
Can you see it?
Is there any reason you need too?
Staring down from below, staring up from the sky…
Lightning so much light; needed…
Is it?
It is.
Poetry and the modern world
I love to write poetry. It is an excellent way to meld words of whatever language one speaks with what one feels and experiences.
Some would disagree but to me, all living people are poets. You can hear it in the speech of people every day talking about their lives, work, situations.
Do you like poetry?
Some people enjoy poetry more than others. There are of course, your stereo-typical groups that appear to enjoy poetry than others. I suppose it could be agreed upon that the general profession of loggers would not fit in that group or a bunch of aboriginals walking about Australia. That would be a general assumption though as everyone is different when exposed to a situation or choice.
Many discussions have taken place regarding something so simple as poetry. What one person considers good poetry to be is vastly different than another, and this leads me to today’s thought.
Look at me for example. I’m not very smart, I make a living with my hands and brawn. I love children, people, life. I voted for Trump. I’m vehemently against abortion, hate, degradation of people, yet I love to cut tree’s down, laugh at humanities confusion about natural resources, global warming, war…
My poetry is not acceptable to most just as I repel most. Fitting actually.
So too, you. If you embrace what you are, you and not the group you seek approval in, then you are just like me.
This is what is lost in this world today. The ability to be and try.
“Horseshit Robin, a bunch of fucked up words if you ask me. You’re a fucking monster. Trust me, there is no one as fucked up as you on this entire planet…”
Not true parasite, that’s your opinion and actually one like many people. People blindly glued to whatever social herd they identify with. Such groups lose their individual identity and these people close their minds to those not ‘like’ them.
Have you noticed lately the polarization of your modern world? With all the instant choices and fulfillment’s of such, the world has turned into a hard-shelled place filled with bubbles of social groups. Each bubble filled with people who really cannot handle this fast-paced stage of their evolution.
Humanity has evolved nicely the past millions of years. Slowly coming to terms of its mental, physical, and spiritual growth… But today? Yikes. Unbalanced. Chaos. Science is outstripping the body/mind. So, now the polarization.
A liberal man/woman, lost in whatever worldly faith they believe in would never like my poetry, or a conservatives, whereas I can find the enjoyment in theirs. Why? Well, that’s a whole other story.
Titles: Conservative, Liberal. So many more as the bubble groups do love the titles.
I guess what it comes down to is this. Ignorance. If one does not have the ability to see even their own faults and weakness then they definitely cannot understand the weakness of others. And this is how all the shit I just wrote applies to poetry.
First, most people do not read poetry. Those that do, choose to enjoy that pertaining to the bubble of a group they align with.
“Robin, make sense. Your mind is weird today.”
Everyday parasite, everyday, not just today.
If you’re reading this and never wrote a poem, please do. If you are constantly lost in your worldly views, try and glimpse, even if only for a moment, the view of others you don’t like or approve of. Just this simple action is an evolutionary leap far above those others who are stuck in a rut they will never rise from.
A Poem for this morning
Thought of selling and moving only sold on sunlight pouring through the window
Thought about people hating, remembering I hate no one
Remembered folly of hope realizing it was all in vain
trying
being
growing.
Love won, and lost, hearing, ‘many more years to show…’
only
this morning I do not care, watching the sunlight pour through a window.
Some Rejected Poetry
My style of writing is not normal thus rejected. I said I would no longer submit pieces for others approval but it is just so fun to received rejection notices so I started submitting again. Here are the rejected for this past week:
The first is titled – Unwelcome. It was written to show today’s women’s march in Washington to show how women have to struggle. All women were welcome except those against abortion.
Unwelcome
Wanting attraction, bound to molecule and atoms
Physical boundaries separate charged and uncharged
Fuck, Shit, Cunt, Bastard…
Repelled by words to accept
Birds, Joy, Paradise, Flowers…
Editorial appeal, rejected readers, no, never a real poem
Exposing hypocritical bias of mundane/extreme
Placing definition where definitions remain – defined
Poem of poetry transcends acceptance or rejection
It knows no bounds
No lines
It is reality of what lays in the heart of truth.
This next is titled – Memory of a Poem. It was written to show how a poem is truly similar to everyday life. It shows how editors use their own bias to pick what is and what is not poetry.
Memory of a Poem
It lived in creation, there sitting on the edge of the mind begging to come in
Caressed with formulation; idea filled; realty then.
Alive now, a word, a way; expression released
People and world see, feel, smell, live, with time.
Visible for everything and all
Emotions full of such range
Joy, anger, happiness, hate…
Then it is over, a new poem becomes alive
Old to move away.
Old guard
New guard
Poetry
Really never alive, never does it die…
Poetry represents the mood, the mind of the people
It is in them the fate of a world
Decides…
This next is one to show attacks, Mauled Minds
Mauled Minds
Animals walking, jogging, running, fleeing; engaged momentum
Physical daily moments pass…
Presidents sworn in, swearing begins as it finishes.
Kings. Queens. Dictators. Leaders.
Chosen by moving.
Nothing static in this world, as it falls, as it leaps
Giving names only gives reality reason
People try and hide
behind their own illusions.
Many spend life running in their minds.
Living to die,
Dying to live
Vicious track it spins.
The next pertains to a man Obama pardoned. A traitor who decided he was a she. A traitor is still a traitor. It is titled, Man Up.
Man Up
Simple times of cave, fire, waiting around to be devoured
Lost battles, spoils of war to the victor grew
Evolution of war, country, and castle.
Courting with bliss and destruction
Complications now with all parts
Communication, education, liberation, even war.
From past to forward
To where we are now
Man: Upside-down.
Climbing Out on a Limb
Climbing Out On a Limb
Deceased sounding such a final sound; absent beating drum, hearts
of passion
Moaning wind to announce witness shadows those lovers, twisted hanging, naked…
H
a
n
d
s
bound.
There rooted beneath flaked bark, blanket stained glory, scented dry sweat
Sweetly so those lips once tasted.
Her breasts matching curve of weighted branches
His thighs seeming sound of trunk
Rope tying the knot
Above the raven’s circle, awaiting riper time.
/\ \/
/\
\/
Naked witness when seen and lost, lost to judgement of contract between man and wife
Those to stumble upon a lustful seen, and call…
LAW
given to take
with force of hand
to hang with standing
these adulterate hung.
*
Now, today there stands a strong tree
Bodies buried
Changed…
Springtime with years gone by to see children of judgement grow.
Hugging, kissing, loving, beneath such a lovely scene
Never aware, nor caring, of their parental judge, jury, execution of those daring to love free.
Twined in passion, stained glory of the blanket changed
Dry sweat to run sweet blood; pierced hearts by two branches
Revenge splintered reality as given by wind and tree.
Hitler
The name of Hitler is one representing great power on this world. Power is a word representing control. Both words are embraced as a matter of perspective.
Adolf Hitler took control of power and used it to consume the world in war and horror. Millions died, millions tried, and today this world can study the results. The main result from all human endeavors of course are easy to see and are summed up in one word – ignorance.
The following article will illustrate this. There are an endless display but this is just one flavor to taste today.
Heil No! Teacher draws Trump as Hitler
A classroom conversation about President Donald Trump’s inauguration took a very ugly turn when a California high school teacher drew a caricature of the president as Adolf Hitler.
It happened Friday when an English teacher at Verdugo Hills High School drew a Hitler mustache on President Trump’s face.
A student in the classroom reportedly posted video of the image on Snapchat. A source with ties to the school sent me a series of photos taken from the video.
“The teacher told the students that Trump and Hitler are one in the same,” said the person who sent me the photographs.
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The Los Angeles Unified School District would not confirm the identity of the teacher, so I will not name the individual. However, the district did say they are aware of the incident.
“While all personnel matters are confidential, the District is aware of this incident and will take appropriate action,” a spokesperson told me.
So what is the appropriate action to take against a school teacher who compares an American president to an evil dictator who was responsible for the slaughter of millions of people?
In-school suspension? Lunch duty?
“The District is committed to providing a civil and respectful learning and working environment,” the spokesperson added. “All employees are expected to conduct themselves in a professional manner at all times.”
Clearly, this teacher’s actions were both uncivil and disrespectful.
Do we really want to squander American tax dollars on a public school teacher who seems to genuinely believe that President Trump is Hitler?
***
I know Adolf Hitler very well as once there was his mind alive to explore, to examine. Monsters can explore such minds and what is explored is often old territory. Often there is nothing new to discover or see but when the hand of God is involved in direct battle with Evil, oh… there is much to discover.
In your little mind right now, just as it was yesterday and tomorrow, there is God, there is Evil, there is your choice. There really is no battle as you’ve already decided to choose both. Rarely in the history of humanity does the mind of humanity totally choose one over the other. Even those who say, “Fuck God. I am one evil bastard…(blah, blah, blah)” Their minds are boring. Just as those who say, “I love God so much…(blah, blah, blah”
Saint, another word in trial for definition with some when really all a saint is, is one who totally chooses God and willing to accept the payment of pain inflicted on by Evil. That’s it, and as far as percentages of humans falling into such a category, it is a very small number with a very big impact on your world.
There are three types of humans: One – You and almost all the rest who choose both God (God is more than a word as atheists fail to truly understand they too, are choosing God) and Evil, almost 100% of the human population. If you want an exact number: 99.967 % (this changes constantly in number the farther the decimal point is carried out due to birth and death)
Two – Those like Hitler, Pol Pot, and names history has proof to show the total embracement of only Evil.
Three – Those who chose God completely with no room left for Evil. Jesus, St. Francis, those whose actions history has proof to show.
That’s it. Simple really. Your species makes so much about mixed conflicts, personality disorders, mental instability; lots of fancy words to muddy up the water of simplicity.
Donald Trump is neither a saint or evil. Nor was Obama. Nor was Bush. Nor is Al Sharpton. Malcolm X. To paint them with the brush of Evil only shows the battle going on in the mind of the one holding the brush…
As for the future, the one you name, ‘tomorrow’, there are great people who totally embrace Evil and great people who totally embrace God… This world will get to witness such horror and goodness, you can not even begin to understand it.
It will come from names you do not know, not yet alive, alive and not yet revealed. It is not Putin, or any leader you know by name ‘now’. A hint: It will come from deceit and lies. It will come from simple men and woman of whom this world places no importance on, ‘now’.
It will be a grand battle, one of many to come, one where what you think will become unthinkable, what you think is unthinkable, wonderful…
Another hint: This rapture many of you seek…Keep seeking as you embrace both God and Evil as it will not exist, will not arrive as you ‘think’. Your version of rapture is no more than a story of make-believe. The end of this world is no where near as you think you understand. When dealing with time numbered by words such as million, or thousand being placed before the word, years. Then you may start to come close to understanding Until then, keep painting with your brush, keep with your choice of both God and Evil. Stand strong at your current level of evolution as it is only through your species evolution continuing, only then will…(you can’t understand)
***
A Monster’s Poem
Alone and far from my world.
So much clutter from cluttered minds; cluttered chatter; ignorance
on a grand scale.
Today a swim with what is
Tomorrow a swim with what will
Yesterday a swim with repeat.
Longing with stars, sitting on the moon
Caressing Sun and planets
Universe this call.
Sadness with knowledge, happy only for seconds out of eternity
Blessed
Cursed
filled with God’s light
waiting for darkness bright
Peace- the coat of many colors-
It is and will be.
Splitting Head (ache)
Today was a melting day, a day where ice rotted, roads rutted, and the eyes of a monster, seen.
Good news of course, eyes getting only better, learned the color of eyes are changing from green to blue, oh…if he only knew.
The blow test blew me out of the chair; light almost too, so, digital pictures to show the map. He said my eyes were those half this shells age.
The head though, splitting in two. It hurts coming from the jaw. Two Advil’s. Maybe a poem will help with this crack opening wide.
***
In the mind resides the thought
maybe?
No?
Yes?
Hearing so much, ears covered shut; eyes shuttering; battle between green and blue.
Inside resides the truth, revealed, hidden, disbelief, believe…
Traveled and then, called. Just as it was told. I knew as soon as it rang.
Today, tomorrow, yesterday, it gets bigger while the world gets smaller,
feeling as if the head will explode.
Poetry Circle
Jay Dougherty, this name is not important in the grand plan of this world, neither is Robin B Lipinski. Both are just names. Both are just people.
Jay Dougherty started a website called, Poetry Circle. It is a place where people express poetry, prose, pictures, and reveal just how they too, are not important.
Life as you may have figured out by now, is not fair, nor is it all that appealing. Though there are a few moments this world is tolerable, but only if the the beauty in the simple things in life are embraced. A butterfly, food, animals, fish, birds, a sunset.
Once I wrote a journal at Poetry Circle, I did so because the addiction to writing is powerful indeed. It only took me less than a week to discover Poetry Circle is no different than the rest of this world. It was full of people who expressed the desire for expression. They write/wrote about vagina’s, sex, politics, love… All great topics, all open for choice and opinion, but for 99% of those there, they are only open for expression if it is their way.
The writers there left me alone, thinking thoughts of whatever it is those wearing blinders think. Yes, I wrote much of what they did not approve of. God. Politics. Most topics and ways I write are not accepted by the current crop of elites. The same elites sad Hillary Clinton did not become president.
I attacked no one, in fact I pointed out the fallacy of the elites there, exposing poems the editors rejected of others, much better poems than the ‘accepted’ norm. They did not like this.
One day, on a discussion board I read an opinion by a woman more blind and self-centered than normal and I responded. Oh, I was attacked by herd. “Why are you here?” “You don’t belong here.” “Your kind is not welcome here.” And I engaged with a man of no importance in this world, Jay Dougherty. Jay was the man who started the website and he did not like what I had to say.
The next day, my writing on that discussion thread was deleted. The hostile comments by others not only deleted, but ‘changed’ to fit the new thread. This brought to mind how books of the past were burnt in Germany as the Nazi’s purged. It brought to mind how history is changed to fit the moments of power.
As a result of engaging in open and constructive dialogue, and without even them following their own rules of ‘warnings’ I was subtly banned. Yes, I still have a ‘user name’ Robin B. Lipinski – a name I am proud to be a monster with. I still have a password. But when attempting to log on, Jay has fixed it so I have been expelled, and with full blessing by the rest of those writing about pussies, evil Republicans, sucking cock, and in one of the ‘poets’ (Tom Riordin, or Ridern, or some kind of R) a poem about fucking angels in the ass.
I write this tonight because I tried to reach out to Jay but he hides, and I suppose for good reason. Cowards usually do hide in the corners. I tried starting a new account using a different email address but using my name as I never hide, and I fear nothing. (Monsters fear nothing, even when they should…) This was rejected also by ‘not’ rejecting, rather just clicking some buttons on their side. I tried to reach out to communicate as civilized people will try to communicate but people for the most part at Poetry Circle only communicate in a ignorant and hurtful way.
Oh, I was finished that day after the discussion, what needed to be done on that site was complete but I wanted to read other poets work that I like, and one from a poet I love. To do so you have to register, log in, and this new way started very shortly after I got the boot.
No, I wanted to read and now I want to get back some of the poetry I had there on my journal, but for all I know, Jay deleted it all, or whatever it is unimportant people do to other unimportant people.
Yes, It is Jays site, one he shares with poets who write about fucking God, fucking angels in the ass. About men sucking cock, wanting to suck cock. About a lot a ‘good’ topics…And yes, there are some wonderful poets there also, those writing love poems, poems in honor of God, but those people are few in number.
Since it is their site they have the right to ban such monsters as myself. They can do as they wish, just as I can write about it here. This is one of the reasons I don’t just sit and write my crap in a paper journal.
I tried to find a way to communicate tonight with those such as Jay and failed. And it feels good. My poetry and writing is mostly horrible, I know this, but I do not fear writing, nor should you fear your passions, be it collecting stamps or striving to dive to the deepest parts of the ocean. My poetry at Poetry Circle was needed to be written when I wrote it, now I care less if it exists or was just another unimportant moment to be.
To Poetry Circle, Jay and those others who hate/hated me and those others like me- writers who express with passion and try- I don’t hate you. I feel pity for you in how you think, in how you act, in what you write. And since nobody will read this except maybe a Nigerian pervert doing a “Robin’s Titty’s” search on Google and ended up here, I feel like writing a poem as inspired by my much appreciated learning experience with Poetry Circle.
***
Angelic Smile
Swimming in mud the tadpole.
Bubbles burping dirt, rocks submerged, and weeds.
Pond a world where life can or cannot be pretty.
In town there were the people; proud, clean, wealthy
Paved streets and home sitting brightly painted
a world so far from the muddy scene.
Two worlds so far apart, one wet, cool, chaotic…
one dry, warm, serene…
The people smiled as they addressed the many faults of others.
The tadpole could not see, mud filled eyes steering.
The people said, “Hello,” while tipping their hat with one hand,
driving the knife in the back after passing.
The tadpole struggled to breath.
Cheery families, rich with conversation. Playing in the park. Vibrancy setting this town.
Pond covered in scum as the wind polluted the air with cattail seeds, and a heron on search
for food.
Time comes and goes, moments of towns and people.
Ponds, that have been, are, and always will be.
When the buildings fade and crumble, the streets crack and buckle, people move away
The pond will see the tadpole free itself from the mud, it will eat the bug, watch the sky
and dream…
I never trusted or liked pro-life activists.
Even at college I thought them too earnest and too religious. I thought the shocking images they showed were manipulative.
I distinctly remember my argument: A heart transplant is gross to look at, too. I don’t want to look at pictures of that, and heart transplants are brilliant. So back off, pro-lifers with your scary pictures.
I also didn’t trust the provenance of the pictures; I was sure they had been photoshopped.
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If the anti-abortion position was so strong, it should be able to argue without resorting to emotionally manipulating its audience with fraudulent horror pictures.
Once you have this mentality, it’s very easy to completely dismiss pro-life activists. And the universities of the world are teeming with young people just like that young person I once was.
Fast forward to April 2013 and Kermit Gosnell’s trial in Philadelphia, when everything changed.
Nothing in the intervening years had shaken my feelings on the subject.
But the images shown in the courtroom were not from activists, they were from police detectives and medical examiners and workers at the 3801 Lancaster Ave. clinic.
>>> WATCH LIVE: The Daily Signal’s Kelsey Harkness hosts Phelim McAleer and Ann McElhinney at The Heritage Foundation on Wednesday at 5 p.m.
The expert testimony describing “good” abortions was from OB/GYNs who had been performing abortions for 30 years. The witnesses swore an oath to tell the truth and to present the evidence, and they did, under pain of penalty for perjury.
What they said and the pictures they showed changed me. I am not the same person I was.
Abortion arguments from pro-abortion advocates tend to avoid any actual talk of how an abortion is done and what exactly it is that is being aborted. I know a lot about both now.
I now know that what is aborted is a person, with little hands and nails and a face that from the earliest times has expression.
>>> Purchase Ann McElhinney and Phelim McAleer’s book: “Gosnell: The Untold Story of America’s Most Prolific Serial Killer”
The humanity in all the pictures is unmistakable, the pictures of the babies that were shown as evidence in the Gosnell trial—first, second, and third trimester babies, in all their innocence and perfection.
I also know that in a proper, legal abortion, babies are poisoned in their mother’s womb by injecting a needle filled with potassium chloride into the baby’s heart. Then the baby is suctioned out in pieces.
If the baby is bigger, forceps are used to pull it out in pieces—an arm, a leg, the head often torn from the torso. If the head is too big to pull out, the abortionist makes a hole in the base of the skull and the brain is sucked out to collapse the skull so the head can come easily.
That’s how it’s done when it’s done well.
Reading the testimony and sifting through the evidence in the case in the research for this book and for writing the script of the movie has been brutal. I have wept at my computer. I have said the Our Father sitting at my desk.
I am no holy roller—I hadn’t prayed in years—but at times when I was confronted with the worst of this story I didn’t know what else to do.
I have had a profound sense of the presence of evil in the actions of Gosnell and his staff and their complete lack of conscience. Most disturbing of all is the banality of the evil; in the clinic they joked and laughed amidst the carnage.
I am absolutely certain that the dead babies spoken of in court were unique people whom the world will now never know. I hope this book and the movie go some way to mark the fact that they lived and in their short lives made a difference.
Time will tell. This story can change hearts and minds; it has mine.
***
Ann McElhinney. What a wonderful human being. I just watched her in an interview and it was more than wonderful to see some more hope for your world.
Abortion is wrong on so many levels it is beyond amazing to even start and justify any reason for it.
Are you for abortion? If you are, that’s okay, you’re ignorant and stupid. It is okay to be ignorant and stupid. Embrace it, but if you decide to be worthy of being intelligent, compassionate, or even smart, you can change your mind.
If you’re against abortion, you are a part of why I find some hope for your planet.
Children are wonderful. They are joy. They are life.
Social blabber of, “Who will take care of the child, you?” or “Rape. You expect the mother to raise the product of the attacker? or “The health of the mother is at stake…” All ignorant and stupid statements. A verbal/mental ‘alka seltzer’ to sooth the acid of your choice to kill. And that’s okay, because you are human you are a killer…
Ann, you’re a wonderful woman and I applaud you. Keep your convictions and faith and maybe, just maybe, some ignorant stupid people will evolve. Doubtful, but some will as evolution goes both ways and in the end I know it will succeed with wonder while leaving the bones of the ignorant and stupid in the dust bin of history.