Prepare to glimpse into the belching maw of the Dystopia Abyss…
‘For reasons unfathomable to the court,’ BethMarie Retamozzo, 34, ‘would rather have [her boyfriend] in her life than to reunite with her children,’ judge wrote in Aug. 8 order.
A white single mom (if photo is accurate) has amassed a grand total of seven children by at least three different men, one white, one hispanic, one black.
This model mom is trying to regain custody of two of her bastard spawn, who are now under the care of her parents.
Her current boyfriend is a Class A badboy who has hit one of the kids with a belt and exposed himself to another.
She ignored her own protection order which she had against her boyfriend to be with him, and lied to the court about it, thus violating a court order barring the boyfriend from being present during her visits with the children.
WIth the help and/or incompetence of her visit supervisor/landlord, single mom abducts her kids and heads for a truck stop in South Carolina, where cops eventually catch up with her thanks to the trail of texts she sent to her boyfriend along the entire trip.
This is dysgenic idiocracy accelerated to warped speed. Every one of these losers is a cancer feeding on the soul of a once-healthy culture, which we all pay for the pleasure. And the elite, safely ensconced behind private schools, egregious zoning laws and sky high rents, mock from a safe distance, unwilling or unable to grasp how their policies and ideological pronouncements encourage the downward spiral, or how their sanctuaries shrink by the day, their overrun imminent.
I met an orphan from a deracinated land
Who said, ‘A mother and a judge in robes
Stand in family court. Near them at the table,
Half mad, a sadistic lawyer lies, whose greed
And rubbing hands and sneer of cold command
tell that its benefactor well its interests read
Which yet survive, stamped on these broken wards,
The handout that enslaves them and the heart that is bled.
And on the chamber door these words appear:
‘My name is Feminism, daughter of Equalism:
Look on my works, ye merry, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that cultural wreck, shameless and bare,
The lone and empty homes stretch far away”.