MY POST MORTEM LIFE.

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MY POST MORTEM LIFE.

PART I.

By Teresa Flisiuk

Sunday, February 21, 2010

My family  and I have undisputable proof of my husband’s, Michal Flisiuk’s suicide on October 29, 2009.
He had been driven, lead, and assisted into his “final solution” after his near 2.5 years relentless search for the Truth and Justice, after our daughter’s, Blanka Teresa Flisiuk Peridot’s murder at L.S.U. Hospital in New Orleans on June 25th, 2007, where she had been slaughtered within one day by Third Word Countries interns and politically correct advantaged African Americans on the weekend rampage of their promising “prestige” manifestations of playing the physicians. They all targeted the easiest opportunity to start and/or enhance their: internships, residencies, and leaderships career of their superiors in the post-Katrina, devastated 2005 manmade disaster of New Orleans, with the population reduced to its third, and the Federal, as well, as all sorts of internationals funds flowing like the opening of the broken levees, which flooded, and polluted most of the city’s disaster. New Orleans was finally cleaned up of its projects, natives living in their micro cosmoses: all the unique, picturesque, and exotic true nature of New Orleans was wiped out. It was the completion of the long term plan for the ethnic cleansing, ultimately solving the poverty and its byproducts. The ideal for the “Whites Only” merchants has began. Class Law Suits silenced even the Black Leaders, and “nigger rich” compensations satisfied the majority of the victims; the developed Pentagon’s model of the mass control, worked like the Murray’s research and service to Pentagon. The “lonely wolfs” are never the threat.
The Funds… Let me tell you just about FEMA claims, and Red Cross’ generous cleaning supplies.
My son, life-time New Orleans resident artist, was on vacation in Maine when the disaster had stricken. It was our daughter, Blanka, who was evacuating from the deadly neighborhood.
My son resided in one of the artsy communities, which had not been flooded and sustained little damage from the direct storm. When he finally was allowed back to the city, he had an encounter with the FEMA worker, estimating individual damages. He was prepped by his two female neighborhood friends, who just finished remodeling their five bathrooms before the storm, to claim falsified itemized losses; “tell them you had a flat screen TV” and so on… My son told the suspicious bookkeeper that he had not lost anything. It had to be an unprecedented case, since the man became more and more suspicious, starting even suggesting, what my son could possibly loose. My son kept declining his offers. The man left making an impression of the combination: his disbelief and considering some mental illness in that particular lack of “claim”. The French Quarter middle-class, including my son’s thoughtful friends, were on the constant alerts for the free distributions of all the goods: from daily meals to symbolic commodity- toilet paper. Their storages became filled with the “every kind of survival items”, while the organizations were desperate with their distribution of their surpluses, they had to account for distributing! Even the St. Charles Avenue mansions residents had their servants jump out to the trucks for the assorted collections! The “White New Orleans” had gone mad. They even became oblivious to the huge flies feeding on human and animal carcasses, while they themselves were dining! Oblivious to the odor, and its toxic origins. New Orleans was  up for grabs! The characteristic was the abandonment of the city‘s maintenance and appearance , while dominated by brand new cars, and shabby service businesses, with their skyrocketing prices for the Black Water contractors. Bizarre contrasts and adjustments to them. It remained unchanged when I traveled to the morgue in 2007, where my daughter had been sent as a result of the hospital’s cheap bargains and shop: unappealing  city settled for the “bottom of the Class”, Mexico, Pakistan, and even Nigeria. In return they offered “New Orleans’ credential” with the circumstances to be forgotten in the future. You know, brand name vs. generic. Big Easy!
Tourism is a fancy decoy for Federal vessel of the city of New Orleans. It is all about the port and oil rigs. It is all about the Federal Control and implementing Federal SILENCE. It is distinguished service of Frank Minyard. Poker, Horses, and Corpses…..

New Orlean's Holocaust  
Organ Tissue Harvesting-LOPA
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Comments (4)

Welcome to the blog of the latest Katrina victims. It all started back in 2005. And the tragedies still continue 5 years later. These have been the longest and hardest 5 years of my life. Everything started to go down after that hurricane in that city. It ruined our lives. Continue to read my mothers blog posts, and carefully read what she wrote about Katrina, its all true.

I had made conscious, final decision to move out from New Orleans in 1996. I had 2 babies to protect! Do you remember the 1994 murder count?! The girl from Loyola kidnapped at Canal St. bus stop at 10 p.m. and later found murdered?! The girl, young business woman, who was kidnapped and murdered by the parking lot attendant she paid monthly fees for, and murdered by its employee before the long Thanksgiving Weekend?! Phil Thomasson, French Quarter artist?! A young attorney kidnapped in his own SUV in CBD before the long Martin Luther Day Weekend to be found later between the cargo truck containers on Tchoupitoulas, just before the Casinos and the Bridge to the Westbank?!! The young, professional father, whose all hard work and sacrifices were destroyed by the lowlives, and monsters as I published on blankaperidot.com ( Tribute to Phil and innocent victims like him).
I had not anticipated, with my innocent children, to become the KATRINA VICTIM!!! I really thought I had escaped New Orleans....
Teresa Flisiuk

I am going to write about my experiences in New Orleans after the storm of what i saw and dealt with.I returned to New Orleans late in October of 2005,about two months after the storm.I was visiting my parents in Maine i left New Orleans on August 1st to visit my parents and planned to return in the early part of September.So i ended not having to deal with the storm before it hit the city.I went back on the train i remember as i entered New Orleans for the first time that there were no lights or electricity in the city until the train was near the downtown vicinity.So a lot of the city and suburbs was in black out two months after the storm of 2005.When i got off the train station which is in the downtown vicinity it was a little bit chaotic with people milling around and big piles of clothes in the station.A strange sight but to be expected.I caught the cab to my apartment in the Bywater on Montegut street.I found nothing missing in my place but very messy like there were people staying there while i was gone.I think the person i hired to feed my cat who lived down stairs might of took shelter in my apartment in the days after the storm.The neighborhood was deserted and very creepy i did not hear one sound in the city which there were a million people living there prior to the storm.The first thing i did was to start looking for my cat and could not find on my first day back,she eventually showed up the next day looking like she saw a lot. It was about ten in the evening when i first came back to my apartment so it was quite late already.I turned on the radio and started cleaning my place quite scared in this new situation and did not know what to expect.I cleaned for a while and then decided to go and buy some spring water.Amazingly i found my bike intact and no flat tires.As i was leaving on my bike i saw some one on the street and he told me that there was a curfew and to watch out for the police.I rode looking for a store and there was nowhere to buy spring water in this big city and started to ride home.On my way back i passed Cafe Brazil a place i used to work and saw that it was open and could see Ade the man who i used to work for i talked to him for a while about everything and he told me he managed to stay in the city with out leaving once and how he had to talk the National Guards man into letting him stay when they were telling people to leave after the storm.He gave me some spring water as a gift then i went home.I cleaned my place and eventually managed to fall asleep.This was my first day back to the city after the storm.To be continued......

When i returned to New Orleans for the first time after the storm of 2005 i knew it would not be the same place.What i found was the same body but a different soul,that's the best way to describe it i suppose but this different soul in this same body was not a good one.New Orleans had many problems before the storm and there was a lot not to like about it but it had its personality for what it was and that changed after the storm.I found the city a total nightmare in many different ways which i will write about here.In the first period back to the city the whole place smelled very bad.When i rode the bike there was always a bad smell but never the same whether it was all the rotting refrigerators that people threw out because they left them full when they evacuated or some unknown chemicals that i knew was not doing me any good breathing it.All the trash and refrigerators were out on the street for a while before they were eventually hauled away.There was a lot of destruction done by people that i noticed from crashed public transportation buses that were used for joyriding in the days after the storm and property damage due to looting.When i first returned there was a curfew at night and the power would shut done every couple of days for many hours.One thing that was very disturbing that i noticed right away when i returned was these huge flies that i never seen before in the city and the biggest one i ever seen for that matter.I realized that a lot of these were from all the rotting foods from various places refrigerators on the street or a abandoned food at the grocery stores but also bodies of people and dead animals that were all over the city.The place i lived was not flooded but about three blocks away that's when you could see the flood lines on the houses a few of them on the same house because of the slow receding of the flood waters.Instantly upon entering the immediate flood area it was hard to breath and your throat got irritated and your eyes would burn quite badly.In the first period back people for the first time were leaving there windows open all night and being more free in there movements because for a while there was virtually no crime in the city.New Orleans prior to the storm was a very high crime area with being the murder capital many times.In not to long the crime came back and residents couldn't leave anything unlocked anymore and had to be careful being out at night.There was a sort of excitement from the residents in that period when there was no crime but it lasted only for about three weeks from what i can remember.I remember seeing how quickly people got used to the situation or became sort of oblivious to some of the things that changed or even to the big flies.I saw this in a lot of people that i knew.I remember being at a sort of dinner party and the windows were open and i could see once in a while those very big flies resulting from the storm on the food which no one seemed to notice.It was a very bad feeling that i always had living in New Orleans after the storm.I always felt very nervous and had to constantly make effort from not going crazy and noticed this in other people as well.Also there were a lot of chemical spills that had happened as a result from the storm so a lot of this stuff was in the air.I remember having this very bad cough and could not talk talk at all it was quite bad for a couple of days.Then some one i knew told me don't worry about it its just the katrina cough it will go away.I was worried about it,i felt awful from some chemicals that i don't what they were and if there was any long term effects to this. To be continued....

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By Blanka

Mother, If You Could See Me Now
Mother,
If You could see me now
Could You figure out how
My smile, my shape, my gait, my brow
Have all gone down
Did they drown?
Am I unhappy?
Or was I once
Experiencing an ounce
Of what they call
Gladness, joy, happiness, escape
These feelings I cannot drape
Over my shoulders
Like a gilded cape
Am I the image that life raped?
Am I the one left all alone?
Heart torn up, mouth agape
And if they get me
(Already did)
Can I escape
Can I get rid
Of them around me
The [...] inside me
Mother,
If you have to
Will you hide me?
Should you, though
I know I can’t
She shall walk in her own damned cant
Should I treasure, hide and gleam
Or teach and push and squeal and steam
Am I the mother or the daughter?
What lessons learned from
One or other?
Can I be one and not another?

Who Killed Blanka Peridot -Q&A