The Deported Human Rights Watch. On an inky black night in late May, 2. Rosalinda C. was drifting on the Rio Grande in an inflatable raft, the only woman in a group of 4. Crossing the desert in the early hours, she nearly stepped on a rattlesnake – “you could only hear them,” she recalls – but kept moving ahead, only to be stopped by Border Patrol after two more days of walking.

She spent 2. 5 days in a detention center in Encino, Texas, and then was deported to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. Like some 1. 5 percent of Border Patrol deportees, Rosalinda is a parent of US- born citizen children.“If I try again, supposedly, I’ll get three months,” she told Human Rights Watch in Nuevo Laredo, referring to a warning given her by a Border Patrol officer.

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It doesn’t make any difference to me. I’ve got to make it back to my kids,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. Rosalinda C. speaks with Human Rights Watch researchers at the Instituto Tamaulipeco in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. Human Rights WatchImmigration crimes like illegal entry are the single biggest category of cases on the federal criminal docket nationwide, and sweep up large numbers of parents of US citizens.The US has been home to Rosalinda for as long as she can remember. When she was just 4 years old and her brother Martín was 3, they left Matamoros, Mexico for Georgia. Her parents worked the fields for ten years, picking cucumber, squash, tomatoes, blueberries, peaches, and tobacco all over the south.Pretty soon, Rosalinda was just plain Linda, speaking English and roaming the playground at her elementary school.

She completed middle school but not high school. Eventually, the family began a new life in Corsicana, Texas, where Linda’s dad found work in construction. Her mother stayed home while her brother went to school. Linda married her sweetheart, Abel, who was also Mexican- born. A year later, their first child, Justin, was born in Dallas, where Abel was working in construction. Not long after came Anthony and Axel.Linda’s peaceful world was rattled soon after Axel was born in 2.

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Police stopped her father, Martín Sr., for a broken tail light – and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) deported him. Back in Matamoros, Martín Sr. He was killed in the crossfire.“I couldn’t even go to his funeral because I couldn’t risk crossing the border and getting separated from my kids,” Linda said.

That same year, Abel and Linda’s marriage ended in an amicable divorce. Linda took the kids, moved in with her grieving mother, and went to work repairing phones at Samsung. She worked from 1. Saturdays for walks, shopping, or to the movies, and on Sundays, when Abel had the boys, she and her mom cleaned house and did the laundry.

The tattoo on Linda’s left arm shows a dove flying up from her mother’s name in cursive: Rosalaura.Linda wishes she had been able to apply for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), which, since 2. United States as children to defer deportation and receive a work permit if they have finished high school. Linda has no criminal convictions that would disqualify her for DACA status; her brother, Martín, Jr., has it.

But between the kids and work, Linda was too busy to finish her GED and apply.On April 1. Linda and her mother were taking Justin to the doctor when the Dallas police stopped her Ford Explorer.

I don’t think I was speeding – I was with my mom and kid – but they said I was going 4. As Justin cried and begged – “please don’t take my mother!” – they arrested Linda for driving without a license.After three days in Richardson County Jail – and 2.

United States – Linda was deported to a country she hadn’t seen since she was 4. I’d never been deported before,” she said. I didn’t know Mexico.” But an aunt in Monterrey took her in.

For about six weeks, she spoke constantly by phone with her sons, who all missed her. She wanted to bring them down to join her. But Mexico wouldn’t work for her ex, Abel, who is starting a family with another woman, and Linda understands: Mexico and separation from their Dad wouldn’t be good for her American sons, either.So she paid someone US$2,0. May night, hiking in her sneakers through a rattlesnake- infested desert, she almost managed to rejoin her family.When we saw her in Nuevo Laredo, she was buying a bus ticket to go again to her aunt’s in Monterrey. But only for a while, she insisted. Next time, she’s, confident, she will to make it back to her kids.

Fathers & Daughters by Elaine Blair. Louiea television series created by Louis C. K. FX, 5 DVD sets, $1. Louis C. K. for Netflix. Horace and Petea Web series created by Louis C. K. KC Bailey/FXLouis C. K. as Louie and Ursula Parker and Hadley Delany as his daughters Jane and Lilly in season 5 of Louie, 2.

Louie, the FX show that the comedian Louis C. K. wrote, directed, and starred in for five seasons, is credited with expanding the possibilities of the half- hour television comedy. Its first- person, expressionistic sensibility was something new for the sitcom when the show debuted in 2.

Another way to appreciate its cultural significance and its genius is to consider this: Louie may be the first sitcom featuring children that’s wholly inappropriate for children to watch. The show’s title character, based on C. K. himself, is a divorced stand- up comedian with shared custody of his two school- aged daughters, six and nine years old in the first season. Louie is a rumpled, out- of- shape, unfashionably goateed white man who has not aged into comfortable success. On days when he has his kids, he picks them up from school, cooks their dinner, reminds them to do their homework, tucks them in at night, and brings them to school again the next morning. At forty- one, Louie is baffled by the shape his life is taking, especially by the fact that his divorce has conferred on him full parental authority every other week.

The show is set to jazz, and the sweeping, wheeling camera and music are the chief instruments of comedy, along with C. K.’s reaction shots—wincing, dubious, resigned. Louie takes fatherhood seriously. His own father, he tells a friend in one episode, was “not around,” and he wants to do it differently. But the show is always threatening to pull the rug out from under Louie’s great- dad conceit—not because he isn’t a good father, but because the value of his work is unknown and unknowable. The same social forces that have brought more men into the web of child care have also revealed that children do fine with all kinds of caretakers: grandparents, nannies, day care workers—pretty much any reliable, kind adult could perform any one of Louie’s tasks with no detriment to his daughters.

He cares for them in a state of contingency. Does it really matter that he cooks their meals from scratch? Do all these clocked hours make a difference in the end? And is he hiding behind the kids to avoid dealing with other parts of his life? You’ve been a good father,” his ex- wife acknowledges, urging him to audition for a late- night show hosting spot he’s been shortlisted for. But no one needs a father very much.” It’s a great bit of deadpan three seasons into a show that has made so much of Louie’s fatherhood.

Yes, you would be spending less time with the girls,” she goes on, exasperated, “but it’s because you’d have a job, Louie.”No one can say for sure how much the girls need him, but there’s no question that he needs them. When he doesn’t have the kids, his days are a wasteland: poker with a raunchy group of comedian friends, ice cream benders, masturbation to the local newscasters on TV. He dates a variety of emotionally and psychologically damaged women as well as some well- adjusted ones with whom it never works out. At night, he does gigs at the Comedy Cellar and Caroline’s, and the stand- up bits are interspersed through each episode.

C. K.’s stand- up is genial yet dirty. He has pondered child molesters (“From their point of view, it must be amazing, for them to risk so much”) and bestiality (“If no one ever said, ‘you should not have sex with animals,’ I would totally have sex with animals, all the time”), as well as more run- of- the- mill aspects of the post- divorce dating scene (“I like Jewish girls, they give tough hand jobs”). He finds no end of occasions to mime sex acts, especially masturbation, onstage. When he started releasing hour- long comedy specials ten years ago, C. K.’s material was long on kids, marriage, men and women, and getting older and fatter. These subjects are still a big part of his acts, especially in Louie, but he’s gotten even more traction with observations about our national mood disorder: the irritable, selfish public behavior and private melancholy of Americans in the smartphone age (or sometimes, more specifically, affluent white Americans). He’s most effective when he uses himself as representative American jerk and melancholic.

In a Saturday Night Live appearance in April, he described a recent trip out of town during which he felt he wasn’t getting his fair share of white privilege because the hotel staff didn’t treat his lost laundry as a top- level emergency. C. K. beams when he laughs at his own jokes and his amusement seems genuine and deep, taking the edge off his provocations as well as his depressive observations about his own life. In 2. 01. 7, his latest stand- up special, released this spring, he has a riff on suicide always being an option. But don’t get me wrong, I like life. I haven’t killed myself. That’s exactly how much I like life. With a razor- thin margin.” In Louie, his will to live is almost exclusively bound up with his daughters: “I was thinking that on Jane’s eighteenth birthday,” he tells a fellow parent, “that’s the day I stop being a dad, right?… The day I just become a guy, not daddy.

I just become some dude. I think on that day”—he pauses—“I might kill myself.” He looks as surprised as his interlocutor at where his train of thought has taken him. Sexual perversity is around every corner in Louie, whether it’s an old woman who opens her apartment door stark naked, flashes Louie, then hisses “Pig!,” or a jittery bookstore clerk (played by Chloë Sevigny) who insists on helping him track down an old flame and then gets so turned on by the project that she masturbates to orgasm in the middle of their conversation in a coffee shop. You could play the masturbating woman strictly for laughs, or it could be something darker, unnerving.

C. K. tips it toward comedy (there’s a brilliant exchange of glances between Louis and the only other person in the coffee shop, an austere male barista), but not too far so; the scene has a complexity of tone typical of the show as a whole. Until she actually puts her hand between her legs, we don’t know what Sevigny’s character, who has the air of an increasingly agitated, eccentric loner, is going to do. When it happens, the gesture of pulling aside the waistband of her skirt is as startling as an act of violence. Over the show’s run, Louis has been the victim of two incidents of sexual assault: one by a dentist who seems to have put his penis in Louis’s mouth while he was sedated in the dental chair, and one by a woman who’s so angry that Louis won’t go down on her after she gave him a blow job that she smashes his head against a car window until he capitulates. Is it funny? Yes, but it’s also something other than funny. Sitcoms of the last twenty years like Curb Your Enthusiasm, Arrested Development, or 3.

Rock have been innovative and dazzlingly funny, but they’re also uniformly light, issuing a steady, rhythmic pulse of levity at predictably short intervals, making for great bedtime viewing. Louie is something different, a comedy about bodily shame and sexual despair and the narrowing possibilities of middle age whose turns are unpredictable, enigmatic, and carry emotional risks. The jokes push beyond the familiar conceit that Louis is a sad sack who can’t get a date.

In fact he often does have a date, and sex, but that only opens him up to a world of unsettling discoveries about himself and his partners. Louie’s New York is a sexually permissive playground in which hardly anyone can get what he or she wants. More often than not, people’s sexual appetites alienate them from one another, or even cause harm.

Meanwhile, the children are in jangling proximity to all this perversion. Watch Styria Online Free HD.