As I mentioned in autobiography, husband beating is a rare occurrence. In the physical. Today women psychologically beat their husbands all the time.
This was July 26, 1969, when I married my Vietnam Veteran, Purple Heart Hall of Honor. Since I saw Mama batter and beat Daddy so frequently, I prayed daily in church when a young girl, for them to get along. It’s why, no matter how bad things got in my marriage, I never even yelled, scolded him, let alone beat him.
Daddy and I were both White slaves for Jews in South Chicago, as our ancestors from Poland, since year 1025. In Daddy’s town of Galicia, Poland, the Jews starved to death the Galicians 50,000 a year, and afterward donned golden glittery robes to rob their white corpses of White Polish men, women, elderly, pregnant women, and White babies.
I once wrote earlier in my writings, 2003, let my Daddy’s eyes tell you of his pain as he looks you straight in the A to tell you of his pain. Mama’s complaint: Stand up to the Jews!
Below Elvis, “Don’t Cry Daddy.” It’s not just a song, it’s my autobiography.