Archive for the ‘Drugs’ Category
Posted by jeremiasx on May 13, 2012
“What do you want from our collective?”
The teenage girl with purple and green hair asked me with the half-interest that Generation Y/Z has made infamous. I couldn’t tell if the hair was real or a wig, my vision still being blurry, but it was bobbed close and there were two long colored braids. She was probably still in high school. Sensory overload overwhelmed me after what seemed like hours without the benefit of sight or sound due to being hoodwinked with a modified balaclava mask. I vaguely recalled the ride across town in the trunk of a nondescript sedan that bore no badging or identifying characteristics of any kind. I’m pretty sure it was a hybrid of some kind because the motor cut in and out during the short journey through the city.
“I was told to contact you as soon as I got to Newark. I’m not even sure what group you represent. You could be with the assholes that kidnapped me back in Cali or even work for the government for all I know. I’m operating on nothing but blind faith here.”
I tried to get some kind of bearing on my current location. A cursory glance around didn’t provide me with much. Grey concrete walls with old rusty streaks that might have been blood complemented a cement floor with similar markings. It smelled dank but there was also an odor of recent disinfectant.
“Your caution is understandable, and we can appreciate that. You asked for this meeting, now what do you want with us?”
I sat a few moments without speaking, taking in the meaning and underlying meaning of everything she said. She didn’t seem to be the techno-punk type apart from the wild hair. She wore an expensive grey suit with a wide-collared blouse. A brand new laptop hummed quietly in front of her. A webcam on top was pointed across the table at me. Next to the computer and her purse was a small pistol. I’d guess a Walther PPK or something like that. My mom carried one just like it in her purse. Plenty deadly at close range, and since I was unarmed as agreed I wouldn’t be able to do much if she decided she didn’t trust me without ventilating me a few times first.
“Can I smoke in here?”
“Sure, go right ahead. Ash on the floor.”
I dug in my pockets and suddenly remembered having been thoroughly searched, groped in every unmentionable spot from shoulders to boots. My cigarettes and lighter were still in my right front pocket but I could feel the distinct absence of my cell phone in my left pocket and I was pretty sure they had taken my wallet. My ass met the chair a little harder than I was used to. A little padding never hurts, I learned that as a youngster in parochial school. My gym teacher swung a mean paddle, believe that. I pulled out the pack of Camels and popped my Zippo open with two fingers and in one smooth motion lit it by rolling the striker across the top of my thigh. An old habit. I’m a sucker for style, even at the cost of emphysema. Besides, in a few days I’d likely be deader than dirt.
I inhaled deeply, the rich smoke filling my lungs and chasing away the nicotine craving that the cigarette industry counts on for billions each year. I studied her reaction and her eyes. She never looked at the monitor even once to check her Facebook or email or whatever. They stayed fixed intently on me. The pistol on the table gave her a sense of security, but not enough for her to truly relax. Still yet, her air of professionalism outshone her obvious youth, and there was business to be done.
“I need your group to provide a distraction for the NYC cops in a few days. I’m not at liberty to discuss the operation, and have no details, so don’t bother asking.” I was pressed for time, and just wanted to get this over with.
“As if I care,” she retorted with an audible air of what seemed to be true apathy. Mercs are like that whether they fight battles for someone using a gun or computer code. It’s just a paycheck.
“I sense your trying to pull off the old ‘Swordfish’ routine, and while I honestly don’t give a fuck or not if it works out for you I damn sure hope that dead-drop you made was the only contact with our group you’ve attempted. We have no interest in swinging from the gallows with you, Mr. Reynolds, no matter how glorious you believe your cause to be.”
“No. You’ve got me wrong. I’m not even in this for my own sake or ‘glory’ or whatever. I’ve never seen you before and never want to see you again. I’ll be lucky if I don’t end up with a bullet in the back of my head by the time this is all over. This isn’t even my operation, I was pushed into it by…”
“Again, Mr. Reynolds, I truly DO NOT care. Tell us what you need us to do, and what your terms and method of payment will be.”
So I did.
Remember, remember, the fifth of November…no problem there, buddy. Today is the fifth. I’m in New York City standing near Rockefeller Plaza watching people ice-skating and having the time of their lives. I will definitely die today.
I never imagined that I would get tangled up in a terrorist plot to overthrow the government. I’m not a fan of the rat bastards that screw us over on a daily basis but I’ve been a pacifist ever since I heard John Lennon’s epic masterpiece, “Imagine,” and watched the movie “Ghandi,” during an introduction to Political Science course my freshman year at Berkeley. I dropped out during my junior year and joined a nascent grassroots populist movement full-time. To hell with college, I didn’t need a degree to change the world. I’m the kind of guy that wears a lot of tie-dye and sandals, smokes a lot of pot, and likes to jump in the sack with as many hippie chicks as I can convince to do so at any given rave or music festival, preferably under the influence of mild or heavy psychedelics. Most days I hold a sign in front of a bank or lobby my local congressman.
It was during one of those music festivals that my life took a seriously unexpected turn just last week. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know a lot of people are going to die due to my actions whether I want them to or not. They’ve got my whole family and all my friends in the crosshairs, and I know they’re serious. Yesterday they killed my fourteen-year old sister, Sarah Jean, just to prove a point. It was staged to look like a random hit-and-run. I know for a fact it wasn’t.
The sign at the end of the pavement read, “Mushroom Mountain Harvest Jam” and I knew I was finally about to participate in the most epic folk-rock festival this side of the Rockies. On the calendar it fell upon a full moon weekend just before Halloween, and attendance was estimated to be upward of twenty thousand folks. I figured by the line of cars and graffitied VW buses and RV’s that it was probably a good estimate. I usually show up a day or two early to set up my campsite and help my usual group of social misfits set up our group kitchen and art displays, but a busted radiator on my old Galaxie 500 kept me stuck in Santa Cruz for an extra day or two, and now I was suffering the consequences. It’s funny how even when you go to society’s fringes you still can’t escape traffic. I figured if I was going to be waiting a while I might as well get high. I pulled out my trusty “chillum” and sparked a bowl of some serious green I scored at the dispensary while waiting for the car to be fixed. I have back issues and anxiety, you see. It’s all legal here in Cali and good medicine in general…not to mention it sure as hell beats sitting in a line of cars for hours while sober. Fuck that.
The car ahead of me, an old 80s model Grand Marquis with more rust coloration than paint stopped just before the curve ahead leading down the hill to the gathering spot in the valley below and to my right. Twilight was coming on and the Sun peaked through the Sycamores and mountain pines with an orange and pink hue. Crickets stirred. I had noticed the Asian girl in the back seat kept looking back at me, but I thought nothing of it because most folks like my car. It’s cream-puff white and has a big psychedelic peace sign on the hood. Maybe she thought I was hot? It didn’t even occur to me that anything was wrong when all four doors opened and all the passengers jumped out with what seemed like maniacal purpose. I guessed it to be a “Chinese fire drill,” no offense to the aforementioned Asian delight.
It wasn’t until I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw people jumping out of the black conversion van behind me that I began to get the distinct feeling that something was definitely amiss. The fact that they were all wearing bandannas, sunglasses, and ball caps drove it home. For the first time in my life I was truly afraid. Not edgy, not paranoid, but completely and utterly terrified.
“Keep your hands on the wheel and don’t move!!”
The voice was female, perhaps the Asian girl, but all I cared about was the submachine gun pointed at my head through my window. I’m pretty sure I pissed my pants. My hands couldn’t have moved of their own volition even if my life required it. My head started pounding and the cool buzz turned into justified paranoia and the surreality of it all grew as my door was yanked open and I was gagged and dragged back to the sliding cargo door of the black van. They pushed me against the door long enough to tie a blindfold over my eyes and bind my hands and feet with zip-ties. It seemed to take less than a minute, if that, and I was unceremoniously tossed headlong into the darkness. I’m pretty sure I passed out after hitting my head on the interior wall of the vehicle.
“WAKE UP, you hippie fucktard!”
The voice in the darkness sounded gruff and I distinctly got the impression that not only were we not at the festival, but that my life was about to change forever, and not in a good way. I was sitting in a hardback chair and the temperature was warmer than a late Fall evening. We were indoors somewhere. I couldn’t smell the forest. I thought I could smell the distinct odor of cannabis drying, which in other circumstances would have been quite welcome. My face was still covered but I discovered that my hands and feet were unbound. Still, I was hesitant to try to make a break for it. I didn’t even know where the hell I was. There could be guns pointed at me ready to cut me down if I budged a muscle. The probability of that seemed high.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“You’re going to achieve your dream, Owen. You don’t have the guts to do it of your own free will, but we’ve found a way to motivate you.” The voice was female, and slightly more pleasant than the first. It almost sounded familiar.
“Mr. Reynolds, you were not chosen at random. You’re going to be an instrument of change for the betterment of the world. You will set free the oppressed masses from the bonds of oppression and tyranny under which you’ve suffered your whole life. Soon you’ll be famous. Dead, but quite famous, indeed.” Shed-dule. This one was British, undoubtedly. I began to wonder if it was all some kind of elaborate prank.
“I don’t want to be fa-..” I was cut off by the sudden impact of something very hard across my jaw. Perhaps a rifle butt?
“You don’t have a choice!” No game. “If you don’t do exactly as we say, when we say, we’re going to kill your whole fucking family, every person you’ve ever called a friend..we’ll straight up kill your goldfish, dude, just for fucking spite.” The first, harsher voice again.
They explained to me that they had picked me nearly at random from a group that recently protested against a large federal banking institution. They liked my fervor and they thought my looks and physique would make me a perfect posterboy for their cause. I was blonde and had blue eyes. I was good looking and well-liked among my peers. In short, I was the kind of person that people would copycat for years to come, so they hoped. While I was passed out they even cut my hair to make me more appealing to a larger demographic. Shit. man, I loved my long hair.
Their objective was a conference of bankers and politicians (surprise!) as well as some unfortunate media personalities and movie stars that would be convened at a certain posh hotel in New York City on November 5th of this year. Only a week or so away. I was not informed of the specifics of exactly how I was going to kill them, and that made it even scarier. I would be flown (first class!) to Newark International on November 4th. First I was to provide a distraction using a group of hackers in New Jersey. Arrangement protocols to meet a contact within that group were explained to me, and I was not to forget even one minute detail. Next, I was to meet my “handler” in NYC on the morning of the fifth at Rockefeller Center. I was to wear certain articles of clothing that would identify me, namely a plain black ball cap and a pair of bright orange Crocs.
“You’ll be reimbursed for the hat and the Crocs when it’s all over,” the female voice assured me, “not that you’ll ever need money again.”
Suddenly I realized I did recognize the voice, and I even knew where from. It was the girl who gifted me a last-minute ticket to the Mushroom Mountain festival in exchange for my promise to pay it forward to another person someday. An anonymous “friend” from Craigslist who I’d only spoken to once by phone, and I remembered her voice. It didn’t even matter if I knew what she looked like. Nothing mattered anymore. I was screwed.
“One thing more, mate…just so you know, we’ve tapped your cell phone and will be monitoring your progress all the way there. If you try to turn the phone off or deviate one smidge from the schedule, we’ll kill you and everyone you love. No funny business, my boy.”
Again with the James Bond voice. It was official. I was stuck in the middle of the world’s worst movie. No popcorn, no 3-D glasses…certain death, the price of admission.
Posted in Activism, Al Qaeda, America, Bizarre, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Fiction, Journalism, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Military, Money, Peace, Politics, Prophecy, Rainbow Family, Random, Resistance, Revolution, Sex, Society, Terrorism, Tyranny, Uncategorized, Wall Street, War, War on Drugs, War on Terror, Weird | Tagged: Literature, Short Stories | 2 Comments »
Posted by jeremiasx on September 28, 2007
If this is a hoax the persons responsible should be prosecuted…however, due to the nature of the crimes discussed in this video and the obvious nature of how powerful the conspirators involved would have to be by default, if there IS CERTAINLY a conspiracy here and not just a theory…
I would suggest as a reasonable and relatively sane person that the witness (Barry) should be taken into protective custody (but not by the government) and available for an internet video deposition (or other format required to give to a federal grand jury) by an independent special prosecutor who would have to be appointed by the full House, to keep it real. That special prosecutor would have to be confirmed by the Senate. Only a man of the highest integrity could be considered…I’d start by eliminating any lawyer from the Justice Department. It’s obviously infected with partisan decay.
So…If there is a prosecutor, police officer, or person who believes in law and justice in this country who has an ounce of integrity within their being…they will not just overlook this video or the allegations of mass murder that the testimony IMPLIES. This MUST be investigated.
Posted in 9/11, 9/11 Truth, Activism, Al Qaeda, America, Antichrist, Arkansas, Astrology, Bizarre, Censorship, Cheney, CIA, Civil Rights, Comedy, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Democrats, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Ed Brown, Education, Energy, Environment, Federal Reserve, FISA, Florida, Fox News, Freedom, Freemasons, George Bush, GOP, Health Care, Hillary Clinton, Human Rights, Impeachment, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Masons, Media, Medicine, Military, Money, Music, New York, News, Newton County, NSA Wiretapping Scandal, NYC, Opinion, Patriotism, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Prophecy, Protest, Rainbow Family, Random, REAL ID, Religion, Republicans, Revelations, Revolution, Ron Paul, Society, Stock Market, Technology, Television, TV, Tyranny, Uncategorized, Unexplained, US Attorneys, US Attorneys Scandal, Wall Street, War, Weird, WTC | 2 Comments »
Posted by jeremiasx on September 24, 2007
My ride with the trucker named Dennis got me all the way to Rock Point, Maryland. After quickly ascertaining that trying to move about in the DC metro area by the thumb was a ludicrous and insanely futile prospect, I decided to check out the public transit system. The bus pulled into a large mall parking deck and I ran across the parking lot to catch it, pausing along the way to note a young Chinese kid on a double-length skateboard with in-line wheels…transportation evolves in some venues quicker than others.
I was delighted to find that my trip over to the rail station would cost under a dollar, and then further surprised to find that I could take the subway into the heart of DC for less than two bucks. The subway station was clean and so were the cars themselves, a far cry from the sinister zombie express that one sees in the horror flicks. I enjoyed the ride, which only took about fifteen minutes. I bet anyone driving would have taken an hour or more in serious traffic. Public transportation FTW.
I noticed upon disembarking at the Metro Center Station in DC proper that the entire station was plastered with a recurring theme of picture-ads…on the walls, the sides of the rails around the escalators, everywhere (even in the mens’ room I’m sure, though I was a little nervous of running into a Larry Craig or someone of their ilk in a public DC restroom upon first arrival.) Just kidding. A little.
The theme of the ads was surprisingly not for any corporate slogan for cola or some new wonder drug for the masses…well not exactly. The ads were for a group promoting the idea of universal health care access. The most noble campaign effort I’d seen in quite a while, especially on such a large scale.
I stepped out onto the DC sidewalk and was immediately struck by the prevalence of homeless people. Not just the obvious ones laid out with all their gear on park benches, but the much less obvious dirty and shady characters hanging in the shadows of the rail station entryway bumming cigarettes and change, the silent and sick ones who huddled in the alleyways cursing God and themselves, and the youngsters who still had the knack to hustle a buck and wear designer clothes that were impressive even if days unwashed.
I was able to head straight towards Capital Hill on the advice of the subway entry attendant, the public information officer or whatever…nice fellow. I paused at various places of interest for short periods to rest my blistered feet, drink water from the public fountains (which are abundant in DC) or even take pictures of things I thought were interesting, such as the blocked up entrance to the Department of Justice…no access there for sure these days.
By the time I reached Capital Hill my feet were really worn out, though I felt a new sense of purpose as I paused to remark with fellow tourists and travelers about the dismal state of the nation. I guess liberals hang out at the Capital reflecting pool like they supposedly do in the media…or whatever.
I caught a couple free t-shirts and made a new friend before I ever went up the steps. I made positive remarks on her “Arrest Bush” t-shirt and she asked me if I wanted one…I said sure, but I have no money for a donation because I hitchhiked up here and have limited funds which weren’t really set for buying souvenirs. She insisted I take two shirts nonetheless and affirmed her faith that others would give more to make up the difference. The second shirt has the motto “We Will Not Be Silent” in Farsi with English underneath, and is a message that alludes to the White Rose Society in the Nazi German era in which many Jews were speaking out against their perception that their race was being singled out for persecution unjustly. It alludes to a point in time when something could have still been done easily to avoid the rise of the powerful Nazi state that crushed this type of dissent in concentration camps with the silent murders of millions, once things had progressed to that point. The seeds of democracy and the seeds of tyranny are long planted in the heart of every state…
I was told to stop and visit with “Start Loving” at the Cannon Office Building, and I made my way over there under the watchful eyes of what seemed to by fifty or more Capital Police armed with everything from the walkie-talkie to fearsome looking riot-action shotguns…I bellowed out a happy Arkansas “howdy” to many of them and received an interesting variety of responses…which was typical of my entire visit, really.
Upon arriving at the Cannon Office Building, I encountered a sight that made my heart merry and sad at the same time. A man with three crosses tattooed across his forehead wearing placards saying “Don’t Bomb Iran” and “Hunger Strike”…
I sat down next to him and we had a wonderful conversation about the prospects of peace and the idea of self-denial as a means of focus in the quest for self-actualization and attainment of a higher understanding of spiritual purity. It was apparent to me even after a few minutes that this man was operating on a much higher level of faith than I, and I had thought myself to on solid ground as it were already. For instance, the three crosses on his forehead comprise what he understands to be the name of God…love…the middle cross says “Start Loving” and he has adopted that as his name of preference. He will factor into the story again later. I sat there and shared my experiences with the world and we laughed and wept together for some time. On one note we did have occasion to disagree…I told him of my plans to talk to the people there in DC and around the country, and he admonished that I temper my righteous anger with peace and love. I reminded him that in one of my favorite New Testament stories, Jesus sat down on the temple steps and braided a whip to drive out the money changers and those who defiled the place and works of God. We acknowledged that the Divine does work it’s wonders in manners both creative and destructive. We parted agreeing in solidarity that peace was the best cause worth pursuing as an extension of love, which is God. “How good and pleasant it is when brothers can dwell in peace.”
I ascended the steps to the House and Senate offices there by the Capital with a feeling of surety that something was amiss in DC…and I found out quickly what it was. The policymakers, the Congressmen and Congresswomen…were not “in the office.” They had taken an early break and were all conveniently “away from their desks.” I stopped by office after office of the people I came to talk to…and was turned away each time with the same story of the “holiday to evade protests and activists” which I assumed by the end of the day had to have been declared in some secret midnight session.
I left them all notes. On their own stationary…that way they would know I had been there in person. I told them how disappointed I was to have come all that way and not had the opportunity to tell them to their faces all the ways in which I believe they have absolutely dropped the ball with the American governmental process. It’s a sad joke, the state of things in our government right now, in case you already DIDN’T KNOW.
My note at Harry Reid’s office was probably the most scathing. It went something like, “The rumors had it that you had a spine…I guess that’s the way of rumors.” I signed them all and I expect responses…I’m not an anonymous loonie who just goes around writing cryptic messages for Congressmen to baffle themselves over for hours. My message was clear. The people do not want this war. It’s time to leave the Middle East. It’s time to hold Bush and Cheney accountable, and on that one everyone needs to stop passing the buck. It’s time to do your jobs, Congress…any day now would be fine. The people demand representation and are NOT GETTING IT.
I trekked the other way down Pennsylvania Avenue to what I discovered to be the “backside” (The South Side) of the White House. On my way I found a new way to circumvent the poster ban…I strapped my poster advertising the march on 9/15 to the back of my pack. Most folks stopped to see what it said…I hope some of the same showed up due to my getting the word out the only way I could. Turns out there were also thousands of handbills passed out by dedicated members of the ANSWER coalition and the Iraq Vets Against The War…everybody does what they can, I guess.
Anyhow, the poster advertising the march comes into play on the south side of the White House…I took off my pack and sat down cross-legged to hang out and smoke a cigarette right front and center where everyone congregates to take pictures and enjoy the view of the South Lawn…I was immediately accosted by a Capital Police officer, whose name I didn’t write down unfortunately, who TOLD me to immediately produce identification. I told him I would be happy to give him my name, address, and date of birth…but that I knew of no law requiring me to either carry or produce state-issued identification upon the mere routine request of a law enforcement officer. He told me that in DC there WAS a law on the books that said I had to. I complied but as I handed him my ID I told him that if that were truly the case, the Founding Fathers would have even more to be ashamed of that evening as they rolled in their graves. I don’t think he liked that.
He came back over and tried to play a little verbal volleyball with me, and after a few minutes of getting his ass handed to him by a weirdo with a sign on his backpack he finally conceded that I had the right to sit there on my ass and smoke cigarettes as long as I so desired. I reported his attempt to enforce a statute I’d never heard of (and probably doesn’t exist) to the Captain of his White House detail during the Code Pink protest, a man who I came to admire for his seeming virtue and dedication to his job. He was also the most knowledgeable and intelligent of the DC cops I encountered, and conceded that I had a point about the guy hassling me for ID behind the White House without any probably cause or even suspicion, and that he would “look into that for me.” An AP reporter snapped a shot of our conversation, which he might have interpreted to be a heated political debate, but the reality was that we were trying to talk over the airhorns and drums of the Code Pink protest happening immediately behind me.
The Code Pink ladies amuse and impress me equally. They have such a keen sense of humor and political irony, and such a way of expressing themselves publicly with confidence and solidarity of values. I was happy to meet many of these ladies who were invariably kind, considerate, and thoughtful to the extreme. I was proud to have been present to witness a far more humble act than my own when two 23-year old kids who walked 4,000 miles from San Francisco (walked, not hitchhiked) sat down on the sidewalk and were peacefully arrested in an act of civil disobedience to protest the war and protest for impeachment to be put back on the table.
After Code Pink vacated the sidewalk the DC police took down the police lines and reverted to the typical regulations regarding protests there, which include the stipulation that there be no static protest between the two light poles in the center of the sidewalk in front of the north side of the White House, the side most of us see in the movies with the lights and the fountain out front…anyhow, between the poles one must keep moving, and I thought it to be an odd and absurd regulation…so I protested it.
I walked in circles talking to the DC police, Secret Service, and closed circuit TV cameras until about 4:30 in the morning that first night. I had long and interesting conversations with the authorities, the passersby, and even a guy claiming to be a TV reporter from Virginia.
The conversations I had with the law enforcement officers were the most rewarding. I pointed out how ludicrous it was that I was walking in circles in front of the White House in the wee hours of the morning, and how equally ridiculous that our tax dollars were paying them in double capacity to make sure I kept moving to enforce the statute. Some were stoic and tried to ignore my rant, but I would hook them in with an impromptu game of hopscotch or even doing the Michael Jackson “moonwalk” at one point…I know he grinned on that one but I bet he’d never admit it to this day. I wasn’t surprised that with hours of helpful instruction, lessons in recent and ancient history, and kind reminders of the virtue of truth and integrity…many of these gentlemen conceded I was the sanest person they’d ever seen walk in circles in front of the White House until the wee hours of the morning.
I talked with a couple of old Jewish ladies who were vehemently pro-Bush (imagine that) and they both walked away in disgust after I managed to counter every single point they made. (It’s easy to defend peace. It’s hard to defend war.) Many more came up to me and shook my hand and walked with me as we discussed everything from health care to gun control…to the mysteries of 9/11 and the continuous proliferation of the tools of destruction unabated across the face of the planet for profit.
I eventually wore my feet down to nothing but pulsating, blistered stubs and had to call off my all-night vigil in favor of some much needed rest. I chose (by accident?) the church two blocks from the White House where I AM TOLD President Bush himself attends about once a month, with great fanfare and motorcades and advance teams in front of the procession sweeping the homeless from the area with neat and quiet ease.
The night in question was not a night for Bush to come to the garden to pray, apparently, and there were half a dozen homeless men and myself sharing the park benches out front. Those park benches are not meant for sleeping, by the way. They are about four foot long. My feet were on the ground and my pack was on my chest in my tight grasp as I nodded in and out of consciousness, aware of the stares from both the homeless “regulars” and the pedestrians of the early morning hours in DC.
I am a stranger in a strange land, and always have been. More to come.
Posted in 9/11, 9/11 Truth, Activism, Al Qaeda, America, Amnesty, Antichrist, Arkansas, Bizarre, Censorship, Cheney, CIA, Civil Rights, Comedy, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, DEA, Democrats, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Ed Brown, Education, Energy, Environment, Federal Reserve, Finance, FISA, Fox News, Freedom, Freemasons, George Bush, GOP, Health Care, Hillary Clinton, Homeless, Human Rights, Immigration, Impeachment, Investing, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Masons, Media, Military, Money, Music, MySpace, NAACP, Nature, News, Newton County, NSA Wiretapping Scandal, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Prophecy, Protest, Race, Rainbow Family, Random, REAL ID, Religion, Republicans, Revolution, Ron Paul, Skateboarding, Society, Stock Market, Television, TV, Tyranny, Uncategorized, US Attorneys, US Attorneys Scandal, US Forestry Service, War, War on Drugs, Weird | 1 Comment »
Posted by jeremiasx on September 21, 2007
OK…so the time has come to tell the tale of my trip to Washington, DC for the 9/15 Stop The War protest sponsored by the ANSWER coalition.
I’ll start in the beginning…I was sitting here on my ass at home one afternoon, a couple weeks ago…and saw THIS VIDEO on YouTube about Adam Kokesh and Tina Richards getting arrested for putting up posters advertising the march in the park in DC, arrested even though they were operating in compliance with the park codes and guidelines for such an act. They were the only people arrested for putting up posters in DC (so far as I know) in the last many years…or ever? I’m not sure.
Anyhow, as I watched the video my sense of rage grew against the growing tyranny which I often speak of within this forum and others. I was absolutely in AWE of the dedication of those two individuals to their cause and the way in which it was obvious that they had conquered their fear of the authorities and the authoritarianism which pervades not only our nation’s capitol but seems to spread daily in this great land. The tasering of a student at a John Kerry function yesterday speaks to the same type of typical abuse of authority in my opinion.
So I sat and watched this video and I thought about what I could do to support the cause of peace beyond just hanging out here upon my mountain and talking and typing to the world at large. I wondered to myself if things were really so bad out there like the video seemed to suggest. I wondered if the spirit of Liberty was still alive and well in this country. I decided to take a trip to DC to find out for myself.
Just jumping on ye olde grey-dog and bussing up there occurred to me, and I could have easily found the money for it…but it didn’t seem to be much of a statement. Then I thought to myself…self… you’ve hitchhiked around the country plenty in your younger days…for far less worthy causes, so why not do it this time for a good cause?
I spent about four to five hours convincing my wife I wasn’t either leaving the family to become a holy man or a homeless bum and giving up on life (though we’ve had it pretty rough lately to tell you the truth) and that I believed so strongly in the cause of peace that even if I were to be harmed upon this journey, it would be a small price to pay for standing up for an ideal…though I must admit that my faith is strong enough that I didn’t worry TOO much about that aspect of it. One of my favorite quotes…
“Of my life they may deprive me, but my integrity, never…”
We went shopping for some rations for my trip and settled on some snack packs of tuna and crackers and pop-top cans of ravioli, which were delicious in times when I found myself woefully distant from society or any type of store. (note: I never finished all my rations…never needed to.) It’s not hard to get stuck between exits while hitching due to the number of turn-offs and interchanges one encounters. A lot of walking is standard…I’m guessing I walked at least thirty miles or so on this trip. I broke the soles of my GBX’s before I ever made it to DC.
Mostly I prefer to ride over walking, and the rides came quickly and easily as my faith was confirmed time and time again by the good people who kept pulling over and offering their assistance to me without the hope of fee or reward, and without fear for their own safety or well-being. I’m eternally grateful for those who live their lives in trust rather than fear especially as it relates to this hitchhiking situation. I feel that the more we live by faith and the less we succumb to fear, the more we will become united as a nation and a people.
Ok…so from the top…the first two days were a little slow getting started…
I took off from the house on 9/11 around 9am…I remember waking up six years ago to a world gone mad on this same date…I felt sure that there was no better date to start on the path to peace than the same which our nefarious leaders used as a rallying point to turn us as a nation onto the path of war that same day.
My first rides were short ones through the Ozarks but quite enjoyable…I didn’t know how much I’d miss the mountain air until my trip home. The air is so much different here. Clean, crisp, dry.
I stayed the first night with my good friends in Conway. They are fellow believers in the cause of peace and justice…I upgraded my backpack from a Petsmart to a more suitable military rucksack (thanks Mark!) and caught some much needed sleep after “chili with the homies.”
The next morning I went across town to the university I attended to discuss my trip with my Honors professor…and I tell you, we had a great conversation. He offered his support and even helped me with a few shekels, despite my saying that I didn’t NEED them. I suppose he felt it was one way he could think of to help without walking with me himself, being a man in the twilight of his years and not as sure-footed as I, though we travel upon the same level of time together. I wasn’t about to refuse his graciousness when I saw things that way, and due to his help my experience was much smoother when I found myself in need of a federal reserve note or two. I left there satisfied with my visit to my hometown (Conway, Arkansas) and refreshed…to begin my second day.
The next rides from Conway on managed to get me all the way past Little Rock by nightfall. I was dropped onto I-40 east by Remington Road and walked a LONG distance on the freeway (in the rain) to Carlisle, Arkansas, where I stayed most of the night at the local truck stop trying to catch a ride. As soon as I got there I called the wife to let her know…that I was reconsidering this whole trip. Part of my faith is that if I’m obeying the will of the divine, then my steps are ordered and will be blessed…and that night, I didn’t feel very blessed.
She told me something I never thought I’d hear her, of all people, say…”give it one more night baby…I love you.”
This was a HUGE shock for me…I had spent four HOURS convincing her that I was sane and convicted of my intentions for this trip to DC on foot in the first place. After all that she missed me, she said just what I needed to hear at that moment, or you would be reading a different story most likely.
With those words ringing in my head, I headed to the overpass to catch a little sleep…for those of you who don’t know already, overpasses provide great shelters from rain and even from the cold if you know how to insulate a sleeping place properly. Some are nicer than others. I’d rate this one at about a 7 out of 10.
Upon awakening, I gazed at the beauty of the sunrise from my resting place under the noisy overpass…morning traffic was contributing to a cacophony of thumping and bumping that was making me a bit uneasy after watching footage of recent bridge collapses around the world…a little unfounded fear makes things interesting.
I emerged from my hiding place under the bridge into the morning light and took a picture of the morning star…glorious in the dawn of this third day.
I walked to the entry ramp and sat down in my obligatory post behind the sign that says I can’t legally walk on the freeway…and within maybe fifteen minutes I had a ride down to the next rest area, which I thought would be a good place to catch a longer ride. I had just sat down and taken off my socks to dry in the sun when a man came up and asked me where I was headed, and I told him to DC. He offered to get me as far as Knoxville, which was 600 miles away. I was in like Flynt.
Paul is one of my new friends from my journey who I’ll never forget for many reasons…to me he represents the undying spirit of patriotism and activism despite circumstances which I would say NORMALLY excuse a person from being too involved in a political movement. He drives an 18-wheel rig over the road…an owner-operator to boot, with a fine old green Peterbilt and an ambition to help change the world. I updated my information to the web while rolling 70 mph in his cab on our way through Tennessee…it was a great ride.
When we got to the I40 369 exit in Knoxville I felt the memories of my OTR days creeping back in as I looked around at my old world of truck ports, strip clubs, and freeway interchanges. I hollered on Paul’s CB to find out if anyone was heading on out of there to DC…we caught a response but it was muffled…but by the time we got parked (in a pull-through lane, nicely done) I heard the call from a man pulling into the fuel isle at the Flying Hook..(flying J) which is the same truck stop we had just parked in. OH THE LUCK!!!
So 30 seconds after hopping out of Paul’s truck I was in with Dennis, a company driver from Alabama who was heading all the way up by Bethesda, Maryland…we drove for a few hours and shut down in a Wal-Mart parking lot. I talked to him at length about personal issues he’d had in his life, and tried to offer whatever helpful words I could. I’m hoping for the best for this man…he’s had a lot of tragedy to deal with including the deaths of several of his closest loved ones. His caring for his fellow man was genuine and spoke of a spirit of southern hospitality that has been noticeably dying in the world outside these past many years…here in the South, I mean…
I was dropped off close to the Department of Energy…thought about trying to tell them about salt-water energy as a viable option but the building didn’t honestly look that warm and inviting. Maybe it was the big fence and concertina wire…I don’t know.
I found it’s IMPOSSIBLE to catch rides ON the DC freeways…I took some great shots of stuff I thought was amusing though, like this sign telling motorists to watch for “suspicious behavior.” I took a pic of it…then did the MC Hammer right there in place. I thought it was funny. *shrugs*
Then I traveled along the DC freeway ramps for a while until I saw a sign that was a little more INSPIRATIONAL to me…and I knew that I was approaching the heart of what used to the exemplar to the world for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I felt pretty sure that any place with a street named Democracy Boulevard..had to be in pretty good shape, right?
Not exactly…I’ll tell you more in Part 2.
Posted in 9/11, 9/11 Truth, Activism, Al Qaeda, America, Arkansas, Bizarre, Censorship, Cheney, CIA, Civil Rights, Comedy, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Democrats, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Ed Brown, Education, Energy, Environment, Federal Reserve, Finance, FISA, Florida, Fox News, Freedom, Freemasons, George Bush, GOP, Health Care, Hillary Clinton, Homeless, Human Rights, Immigration, Impeachment, Investing, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Masons, Media, Medicine, Military, Money, Music, Nature, New York, News, Newton County, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Prophecy, Protest, Rainbow Family, Random, REAL ID, Recreation, Religion, Republicans, Revelations, Revolution, Ron Paul, Sex, Society, Stock Market, Technology, Television, TV, Tyranny, Uncategorized, US Forestry Service, Wall Street, War, Weird | 1 Comment »
Posted by jeremiasx on September 19, 2007
I’ve never fully developed a theory of what to do about our brothers to the south in Mexico…this much is sure though…illegal immigration is costing us billions a year in tax money that the immigrants themselves are probably not chipping in on. It’s just a bad situation all the way around…and shouldn’t we just be enforcing the current laws on the books if nothing else? Didn’t work for FISA, guess it won’t be working with immigration if Bush gets his way with this new backdoor amnesty bill. Check it out.
THE DREAM ACT:
Amnesty Senators have snuck an amnesty bill back onto the
Senate floor and a crucial vote will take place this week.
Sen. Dick Durbin is attaching the so-called “Dream Act”
to the Defense Appropriations Bill.
We’re calling the Dream Act the “Nightmare Amnesty Act.”
–The Dream Act gives amnesty to any illegal alien
claiming to have arrived in the U.S. prior to age 16.
–Any illegal alien can apply, no matter the current age. So
if a 35 year old illegal can make a claim to have been in
the U.S. prior to age 16, he can apply.
–Those who get amnesty through the Dream Act can then
sponsor family members. It creates million of “anchor
teens” who create a direct amnesty path for their family.
–Illegal aliens who apply cannot be deported.
–Plus, the bill allows illegals to get in-state tuition rates,
meaning your tax dollars will pay for illegals to go to
The Dream Act is truly a nightmare.
Go here to access my briefing:
+ + Action Item #1– Demand the Senate stop this nonsense!
Once again, the only way we can stop this outrageous amnesty
push is through a concerted and overwhelming grassroots response.
Grassfire is immediately launching an emergency FaxFire to the
Senate to derail this latest amnesty push.
Go here to send your faxes:
If you would prefer to send the faxes yourself, we have
provided all the information you need (including fax numbers)
at this special FaxFire site. Whatever method you choose,
it is vital that you do something to help. Thank you!
To access the fax list of targets and learn more, click here:
+ + Action Item #2– Call your Senators and these key senators
After scheduling your FaxFire faxes, please call your two Senators
as well as these key senators:
Sen. Kohl 202-224-5653
Sen. Feingold 202-224-5323
Sen. Dick Durbin (sponsor) — 202-224-2152
Majority Leader Reid — 202-224-3542
Minority Leader McConnell — 202-224-2541
Minority Leader Lott — 202-224-6253
1. I am outraged that the Senate is once again pushing an
amnesty bill — the so-called “Dream Act”
2. The Dream Act is a “Nighmare Amnesty Bill” that gives
amnesty to millions of illegals.
3. Also, my tax dollars should not be given to illegal aliens
as in-state tuition discounts.
4. I urge you to vote “No” on the Dream Act amendment to
the Defense Appropriations bill.
Paul, please understand, massive grassroots pressure
stopped this amnesty push this summer, and we can do it again!
We cannot allow our so-called leadership to sneak a dangerous
amnesty bill through by attaching it to the Defense bill.
Thank you for taking a stand (yet again) to stop amnesty!
Steve Elliott, President
P.S. Our contacts told us this was coming so we have been preparing.
In fact, we just finished a new “Where’s The Fence?”(tm) TV spot
that addresses this new amnesty push head-on. Go here to see the
new ad and stay tuned:
(Note: Please do not “reply” directly to this e-mail message.
This e-mail address is not designed to receive your personal
messages. To contact Grassfire.org with comments, questions
or to change your status, see link at the end.)
+ + Feedback or comments on this update?
Go to FireSociety.com and post your comments so that the
Grassfire staff along with thousands of citizens can benefit
from your thoughts and opinions:
+ + Technical questions only:
For technical questions regarding this email, go here:
(Not for comments/feedback on this update)
+ + + + +
Grassfire.org Alliance is a non-profit 501(c)4 issues advocacy
organization dedicated to equipping our 1.5 million-strong network
of grassroots conservatives with the tools that give you a real
impact on the key issues of our day. Gifts to Grassfire.org are not
Posted in Aliens, America, Amnesty, Arkansas, Civil Rights, Democrats, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Education, Freedom, George Bush, GOP, Immigration, Journalism, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Media, Money, News, Newton County, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Protest, Race, Random, REAL ID, Republicans, Revolution, Ron Paul, Society, Tyranny | 1 Comment »
Posted by jeremiasx on August 21, 2007
As I’ve been saying all along …even longer than I’ve been on the damned blogosphere…WAY over ten years now, and people thought I was CRAZY lolz…this is a SOFT SELL. I don’t just make shit up for the fun of it. We WILL HAVE RFID monitoring devices…they are just testing the waters right now. Note the obligatory OPINION POLL that claims that we’re all just DYING to be watched INCESSANTLY. THANKS BIG BROTHER!
PUPILS FACE TRACKING DEVICE IN SCHOOL TIES (BLAZERS)
A school uniform maker said yesterday it was “seriously considering” adding tracking devices to its clothes after a survey found many parents would be interested in knowing where their offspring were.Trutex would not say whether it was studying a spy in the waistband or a bug in the blazer but admitted teenagers were less keen than younger children on the “big brother” idea.
The Lancashire company, which sells 1m blouses, 1.1m shirts, 250,000 pairs of trousers, 200,000 blazers, 60,000 skirts and 110,000 pieces of knitwear each year, commissioned an online survey for 809 parents and 444 children aged between nine and 16. It said 44% of the adults were worried about the safety of pre-teen children and 59% would be interested in satellite tracking systems being incorporated in schoolwear. While nearly four in 10 pupils aged 12 and under were prepared to go along with the idea, teenagers were more wary of “spying”.
Clare Rix, the marketing director, said: “As well as being a safety net for parents, there could be real benefits for schools who could keep a closer track on the whereabouts of their pupils, potentially reducing truancy levels.’
The announcement follows news that an Essex firm, BladeRunner, used Kevlar, a synthetic fibre used in body armour, to line school uniforms sent in by parents anxious about knife culture. Barry Samms, a director, said the company was concentrating on its line of stab-proof hooded tops, having sold about 1,500 of the £65 garment, mainly to over-30s, since launch earlier this year. The company was now selling £120 tops to walkers and mountain-bikers worried about barbed-wire snags.
Posted in 9/11, 9/11 Truth, Al Qaeda, America, Amnesty, Antichrist, Arkansas, BBC, Bizarre, Censorship, Cheney, CIA, Civil Rights, Comedy, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Democrats, Dissent, Drugs, Ed Brown, Education, Federal Reserve, Finance, FISA, Fox News, Freedom, Freemasons, George Bush, GOP, Hillary Clinton, Immigration, Impeachment, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Masons, Media, Medicine, Military, Money, Music, News, Newton County, NSA Wiretapping Scandal, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Prophecy, Protest, Rainbow Family, Random, REAL ID, Recreation, Religion, Republicans, Revelations, Revolution, Science, Society, Technology, Television, TV, Tyranny, Uncategorized, Unexplained, War, Weird | 1 Comment »
Posted by jeremiasx on August 17, 2007
I’ve said this before and posted this clip before but somehow I think people just don’t quite get it yet. I don’t know what it will take for you…does it take the government lying to you to support an unethical, illegal, and immoral war? Does it take knowing that the government is going to bail out corporations and the stock market (like they have to the tune of something like $20 BILLION DOLLARS in the last WEEK…) while watching poor Americans who were suckered into ARM loans dreams of home ownership go up in flames with no recourse…and Bush has stated publicly there will be NO bailout for homeowners…or maybe it takes hearing about how they killed one of our own guys by mistake (Tillman) and didn’t have the balls to tell the truth about it and then dishonored his memory and his family by creating a bullshit story surrounding that tragedy…or maybe it takes realizing that they’ve been chipping away at our God-given rights and liberties as fast as they can since the still-unresolved event of the 9/11 attacks…or that every time you pick up the phone you can technically be legally wiretapped without a warrant…or maybe it’s the REAL ID act that’s “got ya down” and you don’t want an RFID tracking device on you at all times day and night…or maybe it’s because you don’t want to be saddled up, yoked, and whipped to death to work off two generations worth of DEBT or you don’t want to be irresponsible, like those generations obviously were, and pass it to your kids or grandkids…or maybe it’s just the way that you don’t like the way Chimpy looks…I don’t know what it takes for you, personally…but I know that I’ve just about had enough of this BULLSHIT. If we stand idly by and do nothing…we deserve whatever we get.
NATIONWIDE GENERAL STRIKE ON 9/11/07…HIT THE STREETS.
Posted in 9/11, 9/11 Truth, Al Qaeda, America, Amnesty, Arkansas, Censorship, Cheney, CIA, Civil Rights, Comedy, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, DEA, Democrats, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Ed Brown, Education, Energy, Environment, Federal Reserve, Finance, FISA, Florida, Fox News, Freedom, George Bush, Global Warming, GOP, Health Care, Hillary Clinton, Homeless, Immigration, Impeachment, Iran, Iraq, Israel, Journalism, Justice, Karl Rove, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Media, Medicine, Military, Money, Music, NAACP, Nature, New York, News, Newton County, NSA Wiretapping Scandal, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Protest, Race, Rainbow Family, Random, REAL ID, Religion, Republicans, Revolution, Ron Paul, Science, Sex, Society, Technology, Television, TV, Tyranny, Uncategorized, US Attorneys, US Attorneys Scandal, War, War on Drugs | Leave a Comment »
Posted by jeremiasx on August 6, 2007
Great..just what we needed in this new era of Supreme Chancellor Bush and his ilk in law enforcement posts everywhere…the puke stick. How appropriate that you want to make us puke with weapons…why the trouble we’re puking ALREADY!!!
PS: Isn’t this a low level illusionist spell called, “Color Spray?” DOH. lolz
Posted in 9/11, 9/11 Truth, Al Qaeda, America, Amnesty, Arkansas, Bizarre, Censorship, CIA, Civil Rights, Comedy, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, DEA, Democrats, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Ed Brown, Education, Energy, Environment, Fox News, Freedom, George Bush, GOP, Impeachment, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Media, Medicine, Military, Money, News, NSA Wiretapping Scandal, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Protest, Race, Rainbow Family, Random, Technology, Tyranny, Uncategorized, War, War on Drugs | Leave a Comment »
Posted by jeremiasx on July 17, 2007
My feet are sore, I have poison ivy, and my shoes are nearly worn through after the numerous trips I made up and down the hill to the various areas of the Gathering I visited. (They were another quality product brought to me by the magic of Wal-Mart, Hecho in China of course.)
Don’t bemoan my personal situation though…the truth of the matter is that I was not any more of a Gonzo journalist than any of our local reporters who visited and covered the event. I only drove out there four or five times, never camped overnight, and wasn’t interested in infiltrating any “secret inner circles” of Rainbow hierarchy (of which there are none, presumably, since it has no official hierarchy other than communally accepted elders, of which there are no elections or ritual installations of the same to speak of.) I wasn’t there on the behest of any interest group whatsoever, regardless of what some paranoid souls probably surmised, as I’m guessing a few did due to their paranoid reactions to my presence. I probably stuck out. I didn’t really dress any differently than I do in my everyday life…I can’t really ascertain the same for all the other Rainbows…some of them dress the same everyday, some just on weekends (judging by their luxury cars and SUVs), and some probably as part of their “job.” (Ooh now I get to play my conspiracy nut card…not really…it’s generally believed that many LEO’s are undercover posing as Rainbows for the normal purposes of routine undercover work and I surmise less forthcoming COINTELPRO-style operations as well, undoubtedly.) It’s well known by EVERYONE now that the Law Enforcement Officers involved with this “special ed” team that the Forestry Service has assembled are majority asshats. Video evidence.
SAY…speaking of ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACT…how much impact do MULTIPLE SUV’s DRIVING THROUGH THE RIVER have? I wonder. Let’s take a look at a USFS trail during the gathering…notice anything “unnatural” after these SUVs went up and down the road in the main gathering area which was blocked off to private vehicles, ostensibly for the preservation of nature?
Hehehe…either way, I wasn’t dressing to impress or try to be anything other than what I am, which is me. HOWEVER you want to dress yourself (or maybe even your woefully subserviant partner or child), if you really dig it, it’s you being you. I’m just saying not everyone is so lofty as to express anything other than a mindless devotion to “fill-in-the-blank style/trend/fashion.” There are such creatures. If it were not so, there would be no market for Club Gitmo T-shirts or retro Debbie Gibson CRAP. Hot Topic would probably go the way of the dodo bird. I might miss it…nah.
Anyhow, enough about my opinion of people who try to be outlandishly different from society by looking outlandishly similar to each other for the sake of the same. I’m losing your interest, perhaps…so back to our story.
I’d heard so many things about the festival from locals and from the internet…very little of the negative hype the government has thrown at the Rainbows stood up to even moderate scrutiny and their reaction to this annual event defies logic whilst taking a piss on reason and duly decimating whatever general concept of Liberty one might assume was left in the world…then shredding general decency as an extra bonus…needless to say myself and MANY OTHER locals are in various stages of disgust with the federal, state, and even LOCAL COUNTY police response due either to the harassment we received ourselves or the harassment, incarceration, and abuse we witnessed the Rainbows receiving. Oh…by the way…we WON’T FORGET IT come election day, either.
So regardless of the hype I wanted to do a cool, level-headed and thorough follow-up on the Gathering and I thought I’d address a few of the issues surrounding the event and see whether there was any truth to them…you know, see for myself instead of just mindlessly accepting what others had said. I started at the Fallsville Store.
Elizabeth Moak was helping a new summer hire with a few of the ins and outs of the business during the 3pm rush hour in Fallsville (there were several customers buying gas and sundries including myself and apparently some of those “Rainbow Folk”) and I felt it prescient to the discussion to ask her about all the alleged theft at the store by many and various local figures. Turns out, nothing was stolen from the Fallsville Store, according to Ms. Moak…and she doesn’t know that any local gardens were verified to have been raided by would-be “Peter Rabbit Rainbows” either…apparently there is a trend in these rumors where they are ALWAYS second-hand, and usually begin with “well so-and-so said that…” She chalked it up to a lot of rumors and fearful fear-mongering and said her experiences have been pretty GOOD with the Rainbows and called many of them “adorable characters.” I agree.
I left the store and turned my attention to the Gathering area itself, for surely in the dark forests there lay certain “eco-Armageddon” just waiting to be laid bare for my discovery if some local accounts and interstate blog comments were to be believed. (Yes, that’s a swipe at some of the comments made on my PAST posts, and it’s well-deserved.)
I encountered the same monstrous pile of garbage that the local reporter did except for one difference. It was at the TOP of the forest service road by the highway instead of at the BOTTOM in the valley just past “A-Camp.” Quite a relocation effort, considering the modest group of men involved. Here’s what was left of the “front page photo” pile of trash.
Don’t be mistaken about it: this is a MASSIVE clean-up and restoration effort being led by a team of roughly 25-50 good-hearted Rainbows who have stayed behind to do the
yeoman’s work of removing and then SORTING and RECYCLING all the refuse…and currently trying to find the most environmentally safe and economically viable means of DISPOSING of it. (Any churches willing to donate a dumpster? The county and the forest would APPRECIATE it…will you complain about the mountain of trash or help to be rid of it?)
Anyhow after a short time there I met Richard, a former taxi driver from New York who made coming specifically for the clean-up effort his goal for this year’s Gathering…along with attempting reconciliation between the tribe at large and the Lecotah Sioux Nation over some strange “sweat lodge” beef…I’m not sure what the details are but apparently even methodologies and esoteric considerations as they might relate to spiritual medicine, as well as their methods of administration and eligible participants, can be the topic of hot debate between light workers and peace pros and even indigenous tribes of Native Americans…curious, eh? Here are the remains of the sweat lodge. Unfortunately I did not attend, though I look forward to being there personally in the future. Time makes many demands, though, as you might expect.
Far out and away from the virtually non-existent Montana Mud (which I observed to be the main area of congregation during my previous visits)
we scaled the mountain to the “Fat Kids Camp” which I quickly found out is not named on behalf of your averagely obese American, and I probably lost a few pounds hiking up there. It’s named for the idea of “living fat” which means to basically have the maximum luxuries of home available to increase the comfort level in the outdoor kitchen /camping setting…they had basically re-molded the Earth completely to suit their purposes…large stone kitchen megaliths and flagstone stairways abounded and all of these are sworn by the wrecking crew to be brought down as soon as the last campers make their weary exit. On the way out there is a food/supply drop area as a midpoint for the exiting campers to hide if the rain comes during their exodus. It’s rained a lot during the Gathering. We love the rain this time of year. Here’s a picture of Richard on the “altar” (firepit) and of their nifty zip-line which was used to transport cooking supplies and food.
We made our way back across the river and I snapped some more shots of a nifty stone bridge and a few more empty camps…
there was a pile of unclaimed camping supplies we encountered which Richard said probably wouldn’t be there much longer near the Arkansas camp, which was still inhabited but reasonably clean…
Heading back up the hill we encountered “Handy Dan” and his rest stop where we saw him trying to help one of the cleaning crew fix a flat tire with his vehicle’s air compressor…
Before we left I took the opportunity to interview a nice middle-aged couple who were strictly on FS 1463 to do a little tourism and fishing. They were from Hot Springs, and were in visiting in the hopes of catching some fish and soaking in all that nature had to offer. I asked them if they were aware that thousands of people had just been camping in the exact spot they were currently fishing. They said flatly, “Really? No. We didn’t notice.” That pretty well sums it up for me, personally. Oh…they also caught fish. Kudos.
So back up the hill and I dropped off Richard and took on “Sammy,” a young man from Texas who had come up to check out his first Gathering but ended up spending most of it in the Newton County jail. Although he didn’t really speak poorly of any particular officers, he said the initial arrest incident seemed like “a crock of shit” and after a series of charges ranging from public intox to obstruction of justice the LEO’s had managed to work up a $1200 bill (fine) for this young kid who thought he was coming to have a good time. He got poison ivy too, but never got anything other than a bleach rag for it at the local poke. His case was much more severe than mine…and mine is driving me crazy even now with plenty of calamine and alcohol to bathe it with. Connect the dots on that one. Anyhow, he was done with Newton County though he looked forward to going to the next Gathering, possibly a regional or the next national. I dropped him off close to the county line. I hope he caught a ride from there. I’ve done enough hitch-hiking myself in the past…I help when I can.
Anyhow…to summarize. The event is largely what you would have imagined it to be, and if you ever go it could be your reality, too…but for now just know that it’s over and it will happen again and no matter how much money our government wastes trying to hassle these folks they aren’t going to quit and they aren’t going to buy a piece of paper that says they have the right to do so. They (and I, and millions of other sane Americans) believe that we already have a “permit” to Gather and Remain peaceably as often as we wishand with as many people as we’d like…it’s called the Constitution.
Posted in America, Arkansas, Bizarre, Censorship, Civil Rights, Conspiracy, DEA, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Education, Environment, Freedom, George Bush, Homeless, Iraq, Journalism, Justice, Law, Law Enforcement, Liberty, Life, Media, Medicine, Money, Music, Nature, News, Newton County, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Protest, Rainbow Family, Random, Recreation, Religion, Revolution, Sex, Society, Technology, Tyranny, Uncategorized, US Forestry Service, War, War on Drugs | 17 Comments »
Posted by jeremiasx on July 14, 2007
Frameshop: A Picture of the GOP on Civil Rights
The one photo the GOP does not want anyone to see was snapped at yesterday’s NAACP GOP Presidential Candidate Forum. The NAACP invited all 9 Republican candidates to the forum, but only one showed up: Tom Tancredo. All the Democratic Presidential hopefuls showed up for their forum. The excuses given by the Republican campaigns mostly had to do with scheduling conflicts–just too busy to make it.
The resulting photo of Tancredo–standing on a stage of empty podiums–sums up the Republican party’s commitment to civil rights in America: the only Republican interested is the guy running to deny immigrant workers their rights.
One has to wonder why this photo was not the lead on every morning show and on the front pages of every morning newspaper in America.
The reason, most likely, is a coordinated effort by Republicans to pressure news agencies to downplay the obvious implications of having 8 out of 9 of their Presidential candidates as “no shows” for a debate at the NAACP.
What is keeping the obvious story about Republicans and racism out of today’s headlines? David Beckham’s arrival in Hollywood.
This is an ideal moment to stand up and demand the kind of news coverage we want in America. Contact your local TV stations and newspapers. Ask them to run this photo and to write an article about Republicans, civil rights and racism.
Posted in America, Arkansas, Bizarre, Civil Rights, Comedy, Dissent, Drugs, Economy, Education, Fox News, Freedom, George Bush, GOP, Journalism, Justice, Law, Liberty, Life, Media, Money, NAACP, News, Opinion, Peace, Politics, Poverty, Protest, Race, Random, Religion, Republicans, Revolution, Society, Television, Tyranny, Uncategorized | 4 Comments »