Monday, February 11, 2013

MURDERERS (until we get even

I never got such beatings in my life as yesterday and I got a lot of them. I did not even attempt to hit back, perhaps for I was in the mood for shopping, perhaps for I knew Jesus was not there with me, it was just Satan. He kept going for my throat, head, testicles and heart!!!! When I was shaking in St Nicholas as Philadelphia Serbs connected me to Aleksandar Knezevic Knele, I was expecting such beatings on my homecoming to Serbia. Numerous times I stood in church shaking in fear and with no one to confess to. Just Jesus. Now this blog too. I did not think I would have survived such beatings, but here I am. Stirred and shaken with damaged head, heart and testicles but alive. I do not care what will happen to me tomorrow, whether they will kill me, I do not care, but it is one fear less in my book, one fear lesser down the line.

Finally Knele is survived by his brother. Who is going to survive me? Why would I wish any good to those who helped separate and destroy my family and future? I don’t wish any good. All those who hate me have their followers in those copycats who pass by me during my daily routine walks in Belgrade with hate and mock charges simulating what they would do to me if they had a chance. I was thinking too Marko Milosevic, the son of former President of Serbia Slobodan Milosevic - currently protected by Vladimir Putin and Ceca Raznatovic, Arkan’s widow. instigators and inspirers are as guilty as the executioners

I do not have one friend in Serbia. Now I am going to say why. But just before I explain what happened to me today. 
Belgrade, February 10th 2013.
I took this photo on the following day Feb. 11th 2013. His Fiat was parked right there where this SUV with running stoplights is now. The place I took this shot from was the final point of my yesterday's retreat - there's approx. 20 feet in distance from Audi SUV to the shooting point .
Around 16:20 (may not be exact time, my head at approx. 22:35 hrs is ringing) I was getting ready to go shopping for my mom and she asked me to clean snow in front and around the house. As soon as I was getting ready to finish the job there came grey colored FIAT PUNTO LICENCE PLATES: BG 414 YG in a full speed (100 MPH in 20 MPH zone) and splashed slush all over me. He went left around the corner into a small GLIGORIJA VOZAREVICA STREET. 
I left shovel inside the house and curiously went to see if the car was parked on the street and if it was a neighbor to ask him to slow down next time for all the children playing on my street. I got my backpack with me thinking I should keep on to supermarket immediately after that. To my surprise, car was parked in front of number 4 and the driver was inside awaiting someone. No. 4 belongs to the mysterious building complex someone built for the very very rich people and foreigners with respect to Serbian standards. Think Vlade Divac. Sometimes guys like this run illicit drug errands for this sort of rich-high class customers. He lowered window and I asked him if he knew at what speed he ran by me. He seemed to never mind. I told him look what you did to me you idiot. If he had said he was sorry that would have been enough for me. Instead he said something unintelligible and got out of the car coming toward me in full force. I must have been surprised by his immediate reaction - I had no intention, will or motif to engage in physical conflict and once I realized it was about my life it was too late and I was without my glasses. I had a clear advantage but did not know what this snake was going to do; I simply did not want to cut it. After a few surprising punches that got my throat and heart I cried for mercy; it was all dark. There was no mercy. He was beating me so mercilessly as if he just found me in bed with his wife or mother. He was beating my head so bad the spirit of goodness went out and returned up to its father.  
I was retreating for about 20 feet up the road trying to push him away all the time, saying Are you Crazy, stop please!!! but all of sudden he started swinging. First couple of hits took my glasses off and then I saw nothing. I told him numerous times, you are stronger, please stop but the powerful punches kept coming all over my head, larynx and throat. Yesterday my testicles did not hurt but hurt as hell now!!!! He used back pack to always be on top of me and many hits came while I was down and behind my back. Kicks too perhaps, something in hand perhaps like knuckles, all I remember I thought he was not going to stop, he was going to kill me.  
I would not be paying too much attention to this if I have not felt significant changes going in my emotions, reactions, thinking, memory and also functioning of vital body organs. I was not looking forward to this. When someone crosses the street he can expect to be run over by car. But this one I was not expecting. I feel like my mind is divided in two right now. sSsome wounds never heal. February 13th 2013  
During ordeal I thought I was going to die as he was going for the crucial and vital life spots on my body - temples, upper head, and (larynx) throat which means he was trained to kill and knew what he was doing. I did not hit him neither once, before or later!!! He kept hitting me while I was on the ground mercilessly. Perhaps even kicking, I was half-conscious. After he tired up beating, I used one lens that fell out of glasses to read license plate number IN DISTANCE.
I do not care if him (i have some fully unchecked findings that it may be a drummer from DZA ILI BU punk band - if it's true hope they sell records now - though i believe it was someone much more sinister) or his buddies try to kill me for writing this up. But I have to. Read the first sentence of this text. I feel like the pray in the movie SNATCH (with that eerie music in the background though I have no friends to help me out, just the murderers coming after me.This blog here is my only voice and "defence". 

One of five skull cat scans, x rays I was taken in Belgrade's ER today (Feb. 10th 2013)
My from terrible to horrible life experience can be summed up in one sentence: from terrible America to horrible Serbia. Now on what brought me back here. I never spoke about this to anyone, I overheard something in some conversations and that’s all I know. I am saying it now because this government gave various people green light to go after me wherever, whenever and with whatever they can. When I was attacked last time, last year in the streetcar, I took great attention later to stay away from other people and trouble. Even though I was provoked on numerous occasions, even today as I have been treated for almost six hours in the ER. I was in pain and various guys in the waiting room provoked me with man made noises and girls – even some pretty nurses – were smiling menacingly – finally he got what he deserves! I must say openly I never planned on fighting anyone because without my glasses I cannot see a damn thing. This obvious backing away gave all of these troublemakers a license to kill and go after me and test their luck. This happened a lot after the current President of Serbia, Tomislav Nikolic came into power (both attacks happened on his watch).
And what is that that brought me back here:
I THINK THIS IS SOMETHING RELATED TO ARKAN AND CECA RAZNATOVIC AND ALEKSANDAR KNEZEVIC KNELE (ask Serbs in Serbian Church St. Nicholas in Philadelphia what they know about it) although I have seen these two men who are now dead only once for a few seconds from a distance. Everyone knows that I have never socialized with the mob, and that was exactly how the Americans treated me while returning me here. My association with the mob was that I read articles on the internet for example about Arkan’s friend Giovanni di Stefano and American spy agencies took that for granted as to me it was obvious someone kept a track of my Internet research in order to do what they did to me – ruin family and expulsion from the country without even seeing any justice - immigration judge in the process.
Without any charges on anything, without any proofs. I studied law. It seems impossible but yes that is what happened to me and it only happens to the terrorists. I do not see any other reason why they ruined my family if it was not something important for the state (Serbia too for that matter). Other thing I never spoke about since to me it was a ridiculous matter was the position of a waiter - for the first time, not counting McDonald's job - I had in CHEF CHARIN restaurant in Bala Cynwyd which was generally visited by Jewish couples, rich Jewish gays and Jewish lawyers as far as I was told and saw. As far as I can remember, they all brought their drinks, usually wine, into the restaurant. During these approximately ten days these guests were approaching drinks to their mouths in very unpleasant manner staring right down into my eyes provokingly which led me to think they bear some suspicion in me. I never worked as a waiter after that which for one led me directly into the art world but also left me worrying whether would I ever find another normal employment. I remember I was scared every moment what if these stories reach immigration. I was definitely scared for my future in America. I practically knew noone cause everyone around me was scared to continue socializing after the stories that came from Drexel University and the City Police (I guess law enforcement agencies) - to me it was obvious even as if they were pretending nothing was happening - police or CIA was setting up unimaginable situations for me - to test me - they did not know who I was. Never before I had thought about the Jews particularly, but following that episode I started studying them and their behavior. As far as whatever they tried to imply, I am ready to go to lie detector test to prove that I did nothing wrong to them. I thought they were good people. But there was one Serb scoundrel there – Milan Nedic whom I had helped indirectly find work there as the experienced waiter and taxi driver who had no papers in USA. He then brought his Brasilian girlfriend or wife who was studying cooking at Drexel and whether on purpose or not soon after she came she messed up coffee machine somehow and this bastard blamed me. There was a place for only one waiter and owner said I had to leave. I was happy I did not have to see those faces bringing drinks to their mouths in the slow motion and staring at me straight into eyes as if I did something to them. Would Milan Nedic take lie detector test now? Did any of these guests ever get sick while I was working there? I won’t get simple answers to these questions but what I did not do influenced my further destiny. I am pretty sure I would not be beat up today and fear for my life if I did not ever come into that Jewish neighborhood and Chef Charin.
Prior to that another Serb Zoran Loncar who was friend with Nedic and managed Le Bus bakery drivers, fired me for no apparent reason, probably thinking I was a hot potato in Le Bus since all of that happened after a nasty episode I had in Drexel University and forced harassment regarding this - herewith should suit the maxim: Be the Bigger Catholic than Pope - on the part of Serbs from the Serbian Church St. Nicholas. FBI guys came there to sit on several occasions to see what was going on and everyone inside knew who they were and what they were doing?
After I was forced to part with my family – wife and child and never saw them again – I was then brought to Serbia where I experienced numerous disadvantages from not being able to find a job - stonewalling practices apply everywhere - to hearing name Choki a lot. That was a guy that according to the newspapers organized a murder of Serbian Prime minister Zoran Djorjdic. I wonder if that guy was responsible for bringing me to Serbia. Translated it means the one who wears glasses, similar to me. It was also interesting that the first (mean) neighbor – blamed someone for stealing all her gold coins from the house and that the order came from abroad - I somehow think I was implicated in that too as a usual suspect (I have no doubts those who command my destiny will blame me again even for February 10th 2013). Therefore, the Serbs requested my removal from USA. Who knows? I know I got beaten up pretty bad one more time and I could have died today there on the asphalt, that's why I am writing again!!! Despite the promise of investigation, it was never conducted. If I was not posted on the international Pillar of Shame the things would not be happening to me so often. I would have been a happily married man today with some children here. Alas! I am pretty sure that the truth is somewhere between these lines and that it is not possible to ruin someone’s family in United States just like that and leave thousands of illegal immigrants who do not have a family and children untroubled at the same time. I even worked for the US immigration as a translator on the field and to me – what happened then and what happens now – must have been (is) orchestrated by someone very powerful and influential within the government. FOLLOWING ALL THE STORIES THESE ARE SOME OF THOSE THAT WANT OR WANTED TO KILL ME:

10 februar 2013. Beograd
Oko 16 casova 10 febriuara 2013. cistio sam sneg za majku duz I ispred kuce. Taman kad sam zavrsio posao naisao je u punoj brzini (bar dva puta vecoj od predvidjene) sivi Fiat Punto registarskih oznaka BG 414 YG po bljuzgavici I bez obzira me isprskao sa prljavom vodom. Prosao je pola metra od mene. Otisao sam da odlozim lopatu I sa rancem na ledjima (HTEO SAM DA NASTAVIM PUT U SAMOPOSLUGU) posao u susednu ulicu Gligorija Vozarevica gde je auto skrenulo da vidim ako je to neko od komsija da ga upozorim da zbog male dece koja se cesto igraju ne vozi ubuduce tako brzo. Na trotoaru ispred broja 4 ispred novosagradjene mondenske zgrade stajao je taj automobil a vozac izgleda kao da je cekao nekog u njemu. Prisao sam I pokucao na prozor. On je malo spustio staklo I ja sam rekao: Da li znate koliko brzo ste prosli pored mene? On kao da namerno nije pridavao paznju, pravio se lud. Zatim sam upitao: jel vidis sta si mi uradio idiote jedan pokazujuci na svoje pantalone? Mislio sam da ce da se izvini sto bi mi u tom trenutku bila dovoljna satisfakcija. Mislio sam samo da mu dam savet da ubuduce ne vozi tom brzinom po ovom kraju. On je tada cutke izasao I poceo nasilno I preteci da se krece prema meni. Ne secam se da li je ili bilo sta pricao odnosno pretio. Ja sam povikao jesi li ti normalan covece, stani, smiri se! I znam da sam glasno vikao Sta hoces, jesi li normalan da bi cule I ostale komsije. Ja sam se povlacio pokusavajuci da ga odgurnem da mi ne pridje blizu. Medjutim to nije uspevalo, nakon sto bih ga odgurnuo on se uvek vracao prema meni istom ili jos zescom silinom. Povukao sam se oko dvadeset metara (hodajuci unatraske I uzbrdo) on je uvek isao za mnom pokusavajuci da mi pridje blize a ja sam drzao ruke ispruzene pokusavajuci da to ne dozvolim. Celim tokom dogadjaja ni pre ni kasnije nisam ga nijednom udario! Iznenada on je poceo da mase rukama pokusavajuci da me udari. Tom prilikom posle prvog ili drugog pokusaja uspeo je da mi zbaci naocari. Onda kad je video da ne drzim ruke vise ispruzene I da se vise ne branim jer nista nisam jasno video bez naocara krenuo je da me obasipa udarcima u najvitalnije delove glave I vrata – grkljan. Molio sam ga da stane ali bez uspeha. Nekoliko udaraca u te delove me je ucinilo da se uplasim za zivot, osetio sam neku smrtnu gorcinu u sebi. Odmah sam rekao stani jaci si, nije vredelo. On nije prestajao da se izivljava I da me jos vise I jace udara ni posle tih reci, ni posle toga sto sam rekao stani ubices me. Sve je to trajalo oko dva tri minuta. Mozda sam lezao na zemlji, mozda me je udarao I nogom, sigurno me je I vukao za ranac jer me je tako drzao okrenutog ledjima, a najvise udaraca mi je zadao sa ledja. Udarci su padali I posle tih molbi. Ponovio sam opet u beznadju nekoliko puta stani jaci si. Da li se umorio, tek stao je, krenuo je prema kolima. Ja sam veoma grogiran krenuo za njim. Pitao je sta je, hoces jos? Osetio sam srecu u nesreci jer je prestao da me bije. Ja sam samo rekao “ocu samo svoje naocare”. Slabo sta sam video, nisam imao naocare, tesko me je izudarao I bio sam jako osamucen. On je uzeo jedno staklo I bacio na mene. Ja sam rekao treba mi I drugo staklo, nista ne vidim, a on je krenuo da ga trazi I nasao je I staklo I okvir za naocare. U roku od desetak sekundi dok je trazio po asfaltu to drugo staklo ja sam iskoristio staklo koje sam vec imao u ruci da procitam broj sa tablice na kolima. Dao mi je uz neke ponizavajuce reci I komentar tako ti treba kad nisi hteo da se lepo raspravimo. Otisao sam kuci, pozvao policiju I hitnu pomoc. U hitnoj pomoci sam proveo skoro  sest sati gde su mi konstatovane brojne povrede I podlivi, bio sam I na skeneru ostecenja mozga. Osecam bolne tegobe, najvise po glavi I u predelu hrskavice grkljana. Slikar sam I plasim se da ce ovo ostaviti trajne posledice na moju licnost, inspiraciju I mogucnosti.
Milos Vujasinovic
063 703 XXXX


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