06 20 1015
Ya know the
new Bus Stops?The monolithic, polished steel ones
that have started to replaced the comfy, ornate, old
green ones. Look like they're from thesoviet era,
with the terribly uncomfortable Amuminium benches
and the awning that was designed too high to provide
any shade unless you stand out in traffic, and were
obviously engineered to not provide shelter from the
rain either. They crash sometimes when they get wet
and you can hear the familiar chime of the windows
XP boot-up sequence. You think I'm kidding. Why does
a bus stop need to be running an antique operating
system? your guess is as good as m-... well, I
suspect that they actually attempt to provide
sigints and surveillance "adding value", not merely
an oppressive Orwellian ambiance. They don't provide
Wi-Fi. There is a single button and crude led
interface which provide time of day and the next few
scheduled departures, in a the threatening voice of
a robot cop terminator. You almost expect it to say:
"please don't be late to your slavery, commuter" or
"For more enjoyment and greater efficiency,
consumption is being standardized" any way there's
nothing like ceaseless rain to bring attention to
the new oppressive robot bus stops.
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6 9 2015
Hello I'm white.
Frankly, I'd much rather see young
blackpeopleembrace Farrakhan and the NOI instead of
IceCube and the NWA. Or why not Marcus Garvey and Haile
Selassie? My personal favorite leader in history
[besides Jesus] is Martin Luther King, a true
what ever happened to Mexicans being identified as good
Catholics with strong family values, work ethic and
trade craft, who cook kick-ass Mole Oaxaca? Now there's
a cultural ID I can love. But I argue that this absurd
homogenized thug-life, where-in you'd sell out your own
race with the white man's poisons (crack heroin et al) -
is no cultural identity at all. The fools are convinced
that both crime and punishment are virtues. Believe it
or not guys; the wealthy, white, eugenicists who profit
from both the sale of drugs and the corresponding
incarcerations are the very same who disseminate the
absurd pop culture you veraciously consume. They are
terrified of any legitimate and distinct cultural
identity. It's horrible to see people with the means and
responsibility to the community indulge criminality and
immorality as notions of race or identity. It's
precisely the same thing as saying because someone's
black/Mexican, they have got to be guilty of whatever
crime. If someone says anything about the state of
affairs they get called intolerant. I think we indeed
should be intolerant of gangster thugs. No matter what
race. They're a bunch of cowards really.
I'm not a local. I'm not
from here. I'm not one of "Y'all". Some how I was
translated to this ...this parallel reality 14 some odd
years ago. Well I'm not sure, somewhere between 10 and
15 years ago. I'm not certain of the exact point of
diversion, because This dimension looks and feels very
much like my home. I thought I was one of y'all. I
thought I was in the same place. I thought things were
just a changin' (as they tend to do), or that I was
changing as I've always done, but this which am
referring to has become so bazaro, so absurd that I'm
compelled to write about it. I sometimes think I'm the
only one, but this cannot be true. It's like that Mike
Judge movie "Idiocrasy" but worse; more like the 1984
Terry Gilliam movie called "Brazil" if you haven't seen
this yet, you must. It's on Criterion.
I came to a planet wherethe Home of the
Brave declared war on terrorism? Where the Land of the
Free has developed the worlds largest prison population?
where the premier new clear super power elected a
commander who cannot even properly pronounce the word
[new-cue-leer]. The Diebold ballot scandal, as absurd as
it is, provides the only comfort to be found in this
fact; the possibility that perhaps the man wasn't
actually given a second term. This should be
So this is what Bush Senior was on “bringing about” in that speech in 1991.
Welcome, my son, to the NEW WIERD ODER.
may have been changed or omitted to ...confuse people.
Ok, so I came back to Texas after a summer up north. These events came shortly after I was robbed in Denver. The circumstances of the robbery were intriguing. We will go over that some day. Let's just say it was one event in a series comprising my exceedingly adversarial relationship with the “IC” (intelligence community)*The term, IC is a misnomer because, believe it or not, the compartmented nature of the thing is designed to prevent acquiring or analyzing actual and effectible intel. And the grossly over funded folks entrusted with it’s repository are still in the dark ages mentally. (I am being kind there)
*it’s what Chomsky might have called an extension of the “system of imposed ignorance” I call it the illogical college or just IC.
. I came back to my old stomp to record music with my chum, Blake. We were in hi-school together. Since then, we both developed an experimental music hobby and we wanted to collaborate. For the first time in a decade I didn’t have a single computer which was really unusual for me. I normally freelance PR work when I need money. I also work on 3d games, but mostly it's institutional analysis reports. It’s amazing what can be done with bus fare, a net-book and a phone. This time, with no computers I was destined to experience some serious internet withdrawal symptoms. And did I.
As it turns out, in the 1990s, while I went on to Penn State, Blake went to the state pen. Ol’ Blake had grown, over the years, just as addicted as I. although for him, it was to meth, crack, heroin, benzos, ganja and Mickey’s brand malt liquor, as opposed to information, technology and espresso - my addictions.
Well, as you can
imagine, the lack of cash flow combined with the
psychosis and irregular circadian rhythm produced by the
drugs along with the dismal fact that I was stuck in a
jobless San Anto, all eventually wore my nose to a nub.
(that means it depleted my patience) I couldn't land a
job. We weren't really making music. For months I was
baby sitting my junky friend as he descended into a dark
pit of tweakaphobia. I was out of money.
Before I get any further, Please note that during the time I was without a computer or phone, I had no encounters with IC surveillance. The only thing I saw was their obvious and clumsy infiltration of the local “Occupy” movement (yeah, remember the “Occupy” thing) well what ever, at least they weren’t hassling me. I'm certain infiltration was all across the board with the "Occupy" movement, not just in SA. It's what we used to call Co-intel Pro. It's called something else now but the methodology hasn't changed a bit. Divert, distract, divide and provoke.
So any way, Jimmy works for this predatory slumlord doing quick and dirty make-readies (running a crew of painters). So he hands me a paint brush and put me up in the houses we were painting.
It wasn’t the best job ever. living on the jobsite, the painters would ruin the few things I owned. Jimmy was paying more for his Doral’s than he paid me. The neighborhoods we were working in are way dangerous than when I was growing up. I have always lived in "tha hood" but this was just crazy and at the time I didn’t have a gun. After a few encounters with the local "gangsta hawdniggiz" "flexin they nuts" I decided to tender my resignation. But Jimmy wouldn't have it. The guy really had grown fond of my work ethic, and he insisted I stay. He said I could live with him and Estella his palacious house in Windcrest. He wanted me to re-organize his storage sheds and house sit while they went on vacation down McAllen. It was just peachy. The only real work was cleaning the bird cages.
Jimmy was paying me in
kind (quid pro quo, my preferred current). I had more
steaks than a man can eat. The mayor of Windcrest was a
Lion and a friend of Jimmy's. He had got me some new
spectacles. Eventually I got a laptop out of the deal. I
finally started using it when -after becoming disgusted
with content broadcast on Jimmy's cable television. I
really hated that 60 inch LED TV until I had that laptop
on it. After reorganizing the stuff horded in the sheds
and the material stowed in the woods outback, The only
chores left were dog-sitting, eating steaks, and
reclining in the Ekornes in front of that giant computer
monitor. One day, I got back into my routine and I
started administering my websites. I got some lucrative
freelance doing some 3d animation, from my old college
roommate. I started to feel normal again. I even put
away my foil-hat and kazoo (figuratively)
I was almost sure that this was an effort to suss me out. Some nut in sigints (signals intelligence) decided i was camped out back there and had hacked into Jimmy's WPA protected Wifi spot. you may think I'm just paranoid or something if you haven’t seen my websites or if you’re not familiar with my record for quick and accurate institutional analysis. by quick and accurate i mean effective and disruptive. think: the best of wikileaks early delivery. Here's a contemporary example: who is the neuro-science graduate studies programme director for CU. Who was James Holmes' psychiatrist working for?.
The likely scenario: [NAME REDACTED] with the [REDACTED] phoned the editor of the Express News and said "I need y'all do me a favor and run an article about bums in the woods up in Windcrest. Them ol' boys out there just want to keep a respectable neighborhood, and that's where i play golf.
but wait there's more
Maybe a week later David (owner of wooded property) gets a call from Sandy with san Antonio code compliance. (remember Windcrest is actually another municipality altogether now) they tell him he's going to be fined $2000 every day until he clears out all the under brush on his wooded property, and additionally he is required to hire a certain certified city contractor to do it. Oh and they didn’t just clear brush either: These guys come in like an army with chainsaws and earth movers, turn this beautiful little wooded ecosystem into a desolate dirt lot. Of course these workers have no idea they are supposed to be fleshing out some outspoken critic of abuses of authority. When I spoke with them, they were mostly really cool guys. You see, the IC tiger has paper teeth. what I mean is: it's easier to make some threatening phone calls than throw money around putting trusted boots on the ground. While these contractors were mowing down the ancient arbors, Time Warner had apparently contracted Texstar to install additional HD surveillance aparati on the Comms junction (the telephone wires) at the corner of Windcrest's newest parking lot. I called [NAME REDACTED] at Texstar and ask why there were all these noizy generators and workers blocking the street in my neighborhood. He advised that there was a problem with a squirrel there. In Masonic vernacular the term "squirrel" is slang for a nutty individual you are having trouble getting rid of.
David is highly
intelligent and understanding but completely undeserving
of this ridiculous situation that my presence certainly
brought about. At this point I decided to go back to
Austin, where of course, this adventure continues.
i was just sitting there geeking-out on my iPhone enjoying my stolen coffee, alone (except for the friendly staff) when these two dudes in scrubs come sniffing around me with this service dog. strangest damned thing. they didn't order anything (nor did they bring in a discarded taco cabana cup like i had) they just sat there at a table across from me looking at me This black guy and a Hispanic guy both covered in jailhouse tatts. their nurse-scrubs started to look like "bob barkers" (the scrub-like outfits one usually wears in the hoosegow) So I decided to go and ask them if they had indeed escaped from county jail, and before i could, in walks the Deputy sheriff who's apparently overseeing these two trustees, out on work release.
and i thought; "wow. I'm not in the drug trade, so why would these guys need to have this pooch sniffing me out. I didn't have bag or a backpack. And why was badge-boy too scared to do it himself. Then at about 7:30 it dawned on me. The previous evening, I had downloaded this torrent full of books onto my iPhone 4. (I do read an awful lot). one of the books was called "tactical urban survival" I assumed it was just that, literally a guide how to get free stuff when your down and out in the city. It was not. it was all about making bombs, extracting chemicals, constructing and testing detonators et al. I thumbed through it with a passing curiosity, but it obviously wasn't something i was actually interested in.
I immediately got rid
of the iPhone. Traded it for a 160gb 1st gen iPod. I
reacted [i think out of
I've been working on developing a cross platform secure file management application. in fact the rather bizarre personal security failure / signals intelligence fiasco i described above is exactly what I'd like to comprehend in order to continue our little iOS development project.
I could use an iPhone. We're migrating the project to android Ubuntu.
encounter happened here in Austin shortly after I
procured internet access in my name. You won't believe
what happened next.
Allusions From the Lunatic Fridge.
I was staying with an old friend in South Austin at the time. The work from home option wasn’t one because she's as about as “squirrelly” as bat guano since they got her on lithium. What money I had, I used to rent office space in the basement of the old city attorney's office at 9th and Lavaca in the Travis building. We didn’t have internet there for several months. When I finally could afford it, AT&T drug it's heels down to the knee. I had a sort-of off the books deal with the building owner for a dollar a square foot. The building is almost empty like many others in this unmentioned "commercial real estate crisis" we are now beginning to see everywhere. So I basically had the run of the place until THEY moved in. The Glotsies. If you continue reading, this is where you trade in your tin-foil hat for one made of fine copper mesh.
the Glotzis are like the Nazis (National Socialists) of the 1920s Germany. Same strange people, same deadly ideologies. But now they are Global and they operate under the auspices of sustainable development and dynamic evolutionary engineering. Under the advisement and consultation of beings from (get this!) the distant Pleiades Galaxy, via Alice A. Bailey and Helena Blavatzky. these two wing nut broads (and many others) would have us take "a proactive role in the evolution of the human animal" with a massive eugenics, euthenics campaign. or rather the wise alien they purported to "channel" when they wrote series of books published in the 19th century by, [ahem] Lucifer's Trust, a publishing company NGO component of what has become the United Nations. All the source info you need to support this claim can be found at openly on WWW.un.org. You don't have to be a genius, any fool can parse the euphemisms. You may also consult WWW.lucistrust.org or your local newage|occult bookstore to read that Bailey or Blavatsky hogwash.
What happened first was the fire department came in and scrutinized every inch of the basement. And then comes Austin code compliance. I'll bet they ended up Travis Properties costing a lot more than my rent covered. They had guys working down there for quite a while getting the old building up to snuff for the venerable CoA.
management told me that Grassroots|Edelmans were
moving in, I was like: "Oh brother!" at first I was
under the impression that they were moving in 6 months
down the line, but surprise me they did. I met Ira the
next day as he was having tour of the building.
I'm sure you've heard the term SPIN with regard to public relations. It has come to mean: how a media outlet can interpret a piece of news with bias. In reality this is actually a technical acronym for segmented polycentric integrated network. These guys love acronyms. "the Arch" there's one for ya. An overt nod to freemasonry. I digress.
Spin is actually a method of mobilizing support for some kind of legislation. What we do is create a phony "grassroots" movement. Several actually, so that if the public get wise to the nefarious motives of one campaign, there's always more in the network to take up slack. This is no conspiracy theory, it's just one small facet of the PR industry. There are many but, Edelman’s is the company firms prefer hiring to canvas spin for them. I know this because, as I said, I have a background in PR. A real grassroots social movement normally doesn't pay starving students and hippy hobos with W2s and all. So, if your getting a check, it's an indication there's probably something else going on there. If I fell for it knowing all this, hey anyone could. But don't.
They could and have rented space in a number of other locations downtown. but it was clear this was all just for the benefit of my delusions of grandeur. So they rented all the offices around my little corner. A rather huge and very unoccupied basement In this empty 12 story building in a town with 53% occupancy downtown, Ira strategically rented the three surrounding offices. We were literally in the only office in use down there.
Ira is an intelligence operative “officially” in the private sector. You'd never know he was an army infantryman prior to his work in the pentagon. He told me this himself and it stands to reason. He said he was there when it was hit on 9-11 and he faithfully remains a fountain of neo-socialist party line nonsense. With the shaggy hair and dippy beard you'd never think he was Iraq veteran. Any effect of boot camp has long gone soft. The only feature drawing distinction: he's about 6'5" weighs 15 stone.
At first I was truly empathetic with the shoestring nature of this fledgling psyops outfit. His offices sat empty for better than a month. He would come in daily with an accumulation of print material and work on the floor organizing over a cheap cell phone. When he started bringing in true believers, I lent them some chairs. When he, became confrontational with the design engineers in my office, I knew it was starting. Pretty soon the place was filled with fanatical folk who were really just anxious to earn that $10/hr pittance and maybe move out of the arch. Oh they would chant and sing and simultaneously practice their various schpiels. It was a regular Jim Jones behavior mod cult in there, and we could hear everything. The noise and hostility were bad but the motivational fervor was just craziness.
We were doing civil engineering (Rockridge consulting), designing posters for bands at Elysium (madInc) business development and currency day trading(Franklin financial) and programming mobile apps (me). Vocations requiring a reasonable peace.
Jim and I had master keys to the offices in whole building, so we started working in other areas. (yay for laptops!) which ended after the campaigners kept getting caught smoking pot near the diesel generators down there in the fight club. Management rightfully secured the building and changed the locks in our alternate offices. We weren't renting them so we couldn't complain. A couple of us started working at night and Jim Rockridge started working from home mostly. The one-sided hostility grew and expanded and we were accosted on the street by campaign organizers as far as sixth street. I think almost everyone involved, canvassers, management, my fellows, everyone except for Ira and I was totally confused. Most of the hostility came from Ira. But there was quite a bit from a few of the other inside organizers. The regular canvassers were a bit rude to us when Ira was around but their hearts weren’t in it. When he began making threats on my life I pulled the plug. Drew, Jim, Charles, and I went our ways.
Please note I'm the
only radical extremist in my (dare I call it)
so any way, that's how
to shut down and marginalize the "terrorists" or what
ever they call me. Tune in next time to hear how, 3
months later, two agenda 21 organizers from Ira's
outfit tried to kill Lee on south first.
d3ft is The Dynamic Direct
Distributed Trust and Heritage Foundation,
encourages the development of entrepreneurship,
we aim to provide a home base and resources for
struggling small business owners as well as
local artists and musicians. To the credit of
our hard working entrepreneurs, d3ft has aided
the creation and development of a number of small
our media labs
we encourage an open critique for painters and
sculptors as well as the performing artists.
D3ft isn't a
traditional 501 non-profit or public company. As
a private foundation trust we are supported
primarily by our members; in times past, our
funding has come by the proceeds from our
Internet cafe: "the spacebar" and our publishing
center, which are run cooperatively by our
senior members and administrative volunteers.
members of our support group in Austin
Texas have died this year under
suspicious circumstances. (notably
Glen B & John Barns) These losses
have had a devastating emotional
impact and are a clear indication of
the increasing risks of advocacy. If
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please send inquiries to d3 [at] d3ft.tk
(Par)annoyed allusions from the
lunatic fridge 72
Tactical Urban Survivle Kit ~J Lee Rucker 6-22-2017
TU5K was an Idea for a web site we had a while back. It almost got me in trouble (see the article titled: “two male nurses and a seeing eye dog”) when I downloaded a book with the same title from Demonoid, which I’m now told was a trap. A friend in a military family, tells me it’s an entrapment “sting”, the whole Demonoid site. The tusk web site was gonna be a sort of fringe forum for for survivors of your modern social landscape. Had nothing to do with the book I got. I’m pretty sure the book actually has another title, and I was being set up on an easel. It didn’t work out, since our sheriff at the time isn’t a tool.
Ya see, most
folks fortunately have no idea what’s going on
for some folks. But for the initiated, life is a
constant struggle. In reality it’s like some
kinda shit outta the Nazi SS, or Soviet Stasi
eras. There is a very serious effort to develop
terrorists at any cost. HBO put out a great
documentary on the subject, set in the poor
black Muslim community in like Detroit or
something. Along the same ..line as “Thin Blue
In the movie, the method for developing [toxic] assets, vis a vi terrorism, is pretty strait forward, highly funded and well resourced “Intelligence” workers ( the CI - provocateur was himself under duress in the film) -they use all the old dirty tricks, money, women, drugs, blackmail, ubiquitous surveillance, lies, lies and lies. Fiction.
The best tool is the media. Fiction. Consensus programming and all that jazz, play a major part. But the creepiest aspects are the field operatives. The “bad actors” to use their term. It could well be behavioural science at it’s finest, despite its rather clumsy facade. It’s brilliant really. The facade is indeed ignorant and clumsy, for it is composed mostly of these very toxic assets. It’s a sophisticated hierarchy of slander propagated freely and ignorantly. CIs, or Confidential Informants, usually victims themselves of a sort of black mail, trying to get a lessor sentence, or eek by on the measly stipend they contract for “to provide three convictions a month” or what ever. A CI will normally have a drug habit. They like to recruit sex workers and addicts, for the “boots on the ground” but I say, a lot of the real work is done by the media, the sitcoms and dramas and scifi movies to which you are likely addicted. Now I have a background in this creative field, and I can tell you for certain that there is nothing in the least innocuous or banal about entertainments today, every little pixel and every single sample of audio is part of one sophisticated psychological program or another. There is nothing random in the development of entertainments or so called education, including the Internet. All of it is brutal propaganda. But you don’t share my background, so I’m not going to pretend you share my views on the topic. It’s like booze to a lush. Dare not talk bad about it.
The same folks who created iSiS and alCIAda are very busy in the west creating the lone-wolf gunman, the militia nuts, the eschatology cults, the racial extremist (pick a raza, they are all up in that NOI and the panthers, and have been for forty years.) Under the guises of infiltrating terror groups they actually play the role of agent provocateur. They lead terror groups. Fund them to an extent. Or completely. Or they promise to, with flash and flare. And it’s the same in your home town police department. The asset forfeiture mill is an absolute boon at the local level. Like a hedge fund playing both sides, constantly straddling and shorting what they can. It’s cannibalistic, but who cares right? No it’s worse, It’s the cast away surgeon in Survivor Type. Its uro boros.
So they can radicalize your groups rather easily. But the individuals… the guys who decide that groups must accommodate and patronize the lowest level of intelligence in the group, ya know to remain politically correct, I guess. These guys will “splinter off” the band wagon before it’s driven off the radical cliff, and what happens to the individuals targeted by the terrorism industry is surreal a nightmare. It’s all about conflict. Internal and external. And all individuals are targeted, know it or not. But the really smart ones, with the the brilliant-weapon ‘tween the ears, and oh boy watch out for the brilliant weapon under the nose. Well these guys, voicing logic and reason unintentionally, pose a threat to those experts who are supposed to monopolize and compartmentalize “intelligence” these individuals have to deal with serious trade craft. What I mean is they face every kind of adversity. They are up against sleazy propaganda like the Vice documentary film on TI and gang stalking and other totally legal but slippery means to the more sinister tact like oh, try and fuck the mans wife, or fuck it just kill the guy. What’s really effective is conflicteering. They will undermine the individuals entire support structure with conflict. Job, friends, family, it’s all fair game. Of course this entire industry is totally unnecessary. there’s always the question: Why? Of course it all sounds a little crazy, and that’s the idea. Associate genius with insanity. It’s just about completely that way in the zeitgeist now. A useful mental capacity is reduced to ass burgers. so what usually happens to individuals, I mean the real independent thinker and knower, is; they end up on the street. And that’s it. Give em six months -a year outside, and they will look like a total cartoon. And adult people don’t have time for cartoons. And that’s what homelessness is. Easy targets. Clowns. Cartoons. it’s always been this way. This whole TI thing may be new to you, but its always been. Just think about a clown for a minute, now picture a hobo. Funny looking clothes. Shoes don’t fit. nose red from the sun and turning to booze to cope with the absurdity. Panem et circensus?
Of course we know that they are homeless because of drugs and alcohol, and they want to be homeless. Now is that really true? I’ve heard it repeated. “They want to be homeless” oh c’mon that’s horse shit. No one desires to become homeless. No one. it’s like saying: “be honest with yourself you always wanted cancer” ..or “you planned that layoff and foreclosure just to get attention”
No one likes paying rent, but that doesn't mean every one struggling to make rent would rather be filthy and hungry, laughed at or ignored. And this nonsense about people desiring homelessness is in the “scholarly” literature. Hogwash.
I personally know several millionaire alcoholic junkies. I really do. And it hasn’t put them on the street yet. You’d be shocked to know how much can be spent on drug consumption. I’m not into hard dope. I have a bit of a coffee addiction and I flirt with smoking. I rarely drink. I thank God I haven't been hooked before seeing what it does to folk.
When you look at the poverty industry closely it’s just absolutely astonishing how much they rake in, pretending to help the poor. “Non profits” are super efficient at making money apparently. I cant be the only one to ever read financials. it’s a scandal. Anything financia, i guessl. We but do love fine things, don't we.
So the TUSK website was going to be a way for individuals on the margins share experiences navigating this rapidly changing situation. A what to expect sort of deal. Trying to survive, stay clean, fed, what gear, clean water, safety, how to avoid the myriad of parasitic groups. After a while you can kinda tell the groups, the uh… stalking gangs apart. And every individual has a different situation, different gang(s) to contend with.
The cops. Well that’s the number one worst group right there. Forget what you see on TV, and the way it was when we was kids. It's all changed. You have to really struggle with the fact that the police are now a terrorist, drug running human trafficking juggernaut. Many people can never face this important fact. These kids fresh back from our ventures in the middle east, have no business policing civilians. Like Alan watt says “and the machine comes home” these are trained to invade and kill. They have no training in civics, (keep in mind we haven’t even taught civics in high school for over twenty years) or the law, the bill of rights, gets in the way of their real job, developing assets for asset forfeiture, and feeding state sponsored human trafficking, transit to jail or prison in the worlds biggest prison enterprise (publicly traded prison stock undeniably is quite literally human trafficking). ..The police are however, trained in jiu jitzu, so they can break an arm with out looking violent in TV. Yes, they are costumed as our benefactors of olde, make no mistake, it’s no doubt a racket. Which is just another meaningless key word like “conspiracy”
religious groups and cults ( I can think of four
in Austin, ARM, MOC, Outcry from the barrio)
they don’t really stalk folks, they are almost
harmless, perhaps good if you need to kick
dope). They recruit desparados nevertheless
cults should be of concern, they use effective
mind control techniques, their interests are in
real estate and gold, I think, and of course
they value human resources.
Mypersonal experience with the matter is broad, but lately involves theft, and street junkies. Here they are coordinated. you’ll get these guys compelled by meth addiction who work together to steal and hawk bikes and computers. (I’m a computer geek, and commuter cyclist) They use their obama phones like walkie talkies. They share tools -bolt cutters, crow bars, and they mark and follow their victims in spread groups like the CIA does. Some times in trucks and vans (shitty ones as you can imagine), but it’s usually on bikes or on foot. These guys are poor drug fiends. So the operation isn't all that classy. And it’s small in number. Maybe twenty people at most in this town. Now without a nod from cops and help from pawn brokers, they couldn’t do it. The cops turn a blind eye if the junkie is a CI or especially if the [targeted] individual isn’t part of some influent social club. They wont even report the call. But these junkies are clever, you need a keen eye to catch on to their modes. It took me years and the loss of several bikes (they stole my mongoose MTN Bike just yesterday) and a few computers to map it out as different junkies come and go a few have ODeed, mostly street kids in the Barton springs area. It’s well known in south Austin. So the real pros “professionals” can unfurl lies and scape goat them. Nonetheless, this is some low level shit, the cops cant be bothered, and the example trivializes TI phenomenon really. There are individuals who have it far worse than me, and I’ve seen the stalking experiences first hand. It’s serious. High tech. Especially when it’s under the cloak of corporate risk management. At that point the individual is costing the corporation big bucks.
All of this stuff falls under the categories of Rico act, organized crime and yep, the “key” word “conspiracy”. A “key” which, after a lifetime of conditioning, locks your brain. Because what? There are no conspiracies except in the mind of a lunatic. Right? I mean the entirety of human history and your life is a series unrelated events. Accidents. Happenstance. Humans do nothing with coordinated intent, especially criminals. Every bridge or library ever built, was by individuals who accidentally fell into place and independently played their own role without regard for one another. - without being led, Right? Criminals never even meet one another, not even in jail. And the idea that criminals are introduced to each other in jail, via the district attorneys office, unit classification and that it’s all part of some twisted behavioral science skinner-box, run outta UT, or Baylor, oh that’s just crazy, huh?
Well the idea for Tusk came before I had learned much about TI GS sleaze. It was going to be practical info about getting basic resources while in dire urban poverty. Obviously not a commercial web project. But in the past few years, the socialist networks have pervaded every thing. Compounded by austerity, massive immigration and this “political correct” radicalization of every one. Ireally avoid TV as much as I can, but it’s every where; bars, restaurants, waiting rooms, heck practically everyone even that hobo has one in his pocket. It once was an annoyance, a corporate propaganda bull horn, but It has become totally radical. And I don't mean in the eighties valley girl sense. I mean radical in an absurd sense, PBS and PPR are the most radical, with the mind bending abuse of language, oh just redefine the most commonplace english live on air and the double think about fighting Islam yet accepting it as a state|religion, the emotive distractions like the demand for coed toilets for transvestites. Is that important? No that’s wacko shit. From on high. Radical.
It all hit high gear with this election.All this radicalization consuming universities. Everyone is supposed to fit into some radical group. Militarized feminist? Or snake handlin’ fag basher? Satanic gay ayran wrestlers? Really? Did they get the idea from the film titled, “Gay niggers from outer space?” insanity. You people don’t see this?: Wide spread misandry and misogeny? Overwhelming antisemitism? La Pinche RAZA? What? (I like Mexicans, I grew up in San Anto. I have never in my life been treated so terribly by Mexicans as I have this year. Why? I don’t deserve that.) The black/white tension is always there in the back ground. I’m not really racist. There are respectable persons in every race. I like mines what ever American cocktail it is, I take pride in acheivements rather than something out of my control. And I’m not guilty of abhorng your race, If some one is, get over it, it’s currently a [ legal right ]here.
radical crisis in competing sciences, fake
papers and bogus journals? This sort of vague
mysterious concept of “science” is a really
broken faith. The closest branch to this concept
of the sciences would be psychology. But that’s
not a hard science like the maligned and
misrepresented science of
stastics for example. Mystery science is like a
mystery church. “is it baptist? Is it a
synagogue? Is it a temple of ISIS? it’s a
mystery! Who knows, who cares. As long as it’s
"Science". Science is faked for many reasons,
like to get an EPA license to polute, or to run
GMOs and new drugsthrough the FDA. The sciences
are occulted for the public as given. And you
can't talk about it. You can’t say anything
slightly critical no matter how informed without
someone calling the cops. People can’t abide
negativity, an imbalance / neurosis which is
widely promoted follie. Ja can’t fix it and not
face it, people.
It’s the Stazi
all over again. I guess what I’m saying is that
you are likely a “gang stalker” already. That is
if you have your thinking piped in via twitter
and face book, if you
actually watch TV (without the urge to smash the
thing) If you put on a performance art little
show and just pretend to be a hypocrite. That’s
really you. Aint it?
To many, I surely sound antisocial, but you know, all your radical hate groups are what is really “anti social” (and that’s what socialist networks are) You're at war, aren't you? Admit it. My weapon is your reason. I’d like to think of myself a man of peace. But your groups won’t have it. They consume each other’s slander and libel like a dog consumes his own puke. Google me. But let me have my say too.
Ifyou care to
read about it, you’ll see “they” have planned
thirty years of escalating riots, here in the
west. Ah but if you actually read anything it
will probably be harry potter or something.
One Seponna Time, Long long a go in the far away land of Deneh, a people of kings, came there a people to learn of our kinglyness and to become kings. For the kings had a great memory and long oral tradition but the new comer, thought it cool to forget and would rely upon a volitile record format called "the memory hole". It was a briliant white haze that decend from heavens out from the bowells of the great thunderbird as mists of avalon. The memory trail was a persistant con, a mystery hole whose spririt saturated the rivers and soil and all the herb that did thrive. It also struck the minds and stopped the hearts of many. The memory holes mapped the cities, for conquering, calmed the angst for a rout, and did appear onto radar as a static tempest throbbing and undulating but 'unmoved 'neath the aptly named jetstream.
and Victims and other people who feel they are being victimized via The Patriot Act, Homeland Security, Community Watch Groups, Etc.
Senator Wyden & Senator O'Dell's office have been investigating Targeted Individuals' claims in recent months of abuse and torture by our own government. A report they have released after a previous 2 yr investigation, revealed who is doing this to us. The report is entitled "A Nation of Traitors to our Constitutional Rights". It seems that Senator Wyden's & Senator O'Dell's offices need the stories and statements of targeted individuals in order to continue their investigation of how policies such as The Patriot Act is harming innocent American Citizens, and how funds are being funneled to Community Harassment groups Etc. If you feel you want to add your personal Gang Stalking Abuse and Situation to the investigation, you must fill out a form (at the link below) and fax it to his office ASAP! Please take the time, and see if this investigation is something that you would feel comfortable in participating with.
Form PDF file: http://lissakr11humane.com
Please return this form to:
to learn about gang stalking,
here are some other resources.
Unless it washed one of your
houses (or friends) away, or, like me, you
didn't have 'em to start out with; you probably
didn't notice that indeed the sky rainded every
single day. All week ends and holly days, all
through out May, no matter what you say, it
rained every day. Not for folks with houses and
cars though, or Starbuxes and offices with cozy
cubicles in which to escape the torrential curse
from the heavens. Not for the worthless paper
pushing bureaucrats or pixel pushing advertisers
or all the God damned attorneys. It did,
however rain on the productive members of the
community, the ones who actually build homes and
grow food, those who fix things and clean up.
The folks with out means, like the little
Hispanic ladies who have to stand out getting
puddle-splashed by cars under one of those new
fangled bus stops, trying to get to work.
I was low on cash, unable to work in the rain and I really needed to do laundry soon before it all got ruined. I know about this program called Laundry Love.It's put on by St David's over at the Spin Cycle on Congress and Oltorf. They have pizza. Well, I went there once before and it's a total Circus. So, they are giving away cash here either ten or twenty bucks in quarters. Now this was not a genius idea, despite who ever thought it up. Amy Moenkey perhaps? She was unavailable for comment, and I think I know why. Perhaps I'll get to that later.. There are a few unspoken rules you have learn quickly.
These unspoken rules of laundry love are very much real. I don't exaggerate at all. It's disturbing. You probably know exactly what I'm talking about if you're accustomed to the competitive, gimmie gimmie response to the spurious resources occasionally available to the ever increasing population of the desperately poor who surround the ARCH and “Sally”,. But these people at "laundry love" in south Austin have homes, Most of them are certainly are on the dole checks. There was only one other obviously homeless, person there: A gray hared white woman, her clothes hamper strapped to a dolly with bungee cords. Everyone treated her terribly. They acted like she wasn't even there, and EVERY one just went around her and nudged her aside and cut ahead in line. She had obviously walked a long way with her load to get there. They knew because she was a woman, only a bag lady (a pariah), she wouldn't be able stand up for herself and likely no one else would either. I was particularly appalled by the Polly-Anna, milk-toast, spinelessness of everyone from St David's. Stricken with White Guilt, they wouldn't stand up for her, or lay down any rules about the distribution of the cash. They are over run by these jerks for the sake of political correctness. They totally bum-rush Dom and the guys for those quarters. And St Dave just quietly ignores the chaos, I Imagine for fear of being called out as a crackin' ass cracker. The entirely Hispanic staff at vicious cycle are run by a frumpy bully covered in jail-house south side gang tats. You know, 512, 78704, m13, and of course the obligatory little teardrops, signifying I'm to believe, substantial "hardness". The entire laundry love fiasco amounts to a shakedown where St David's. church goers, compelled by a pure-of-heart need to do good in the community, but paralyzed by fear of not appearing politically correct, are intimidated by racists who have bought into the violent drug trade by popular culture. This bunch would glorify street crime as a cultural identity.
Back in the laundromat.. This was a mess. I barely made it in time to get a washer. Marz had given me a ride in his van, I asked him several days in advance, because there's just no way I could have made it there with dirty and clean clothes on my bicycle. There dozens of kids playing and running around, which was admittedly delightful and a bit nerve racking. There were several, morbidly obese bodies occupying the chairs and tables awaiting those quarters. All the adult eyes were on Marz and me or the "bag lady" (the only white folks). We had full attention until quarters arrived, the cue formed around us, then we became totally invisible. The line converged among us and then moved ahead pushing whities to the end. the line had formed in a different place than last time I attended the circus. I literally witnessed a dope deal in the line. One of the teens copped his dime bag right in front of me, and God and every one. He was one of teens from an extensive black Houston family of "ten dollar singles" (see unspoken rule six above) How do i know? Well the 713 tattoos for starters, and pristine, fitted, Texas Tall, flat billed, rockets ball-caps, just don't scream "South Austin". Same family? Yeah I know "they" all look the same, to honkys, but really this family all had the same jew-ish nose, God bless em'. But they think they've got old st Dave buffaloed. Scripture says "wink at their ignorance" right?
While standing in line I glanced over at the two machines containing my wash and I noticed my clothing had been removed from the washers. I left Marz at our white spot at the end of the line and went to investigate. I stopped a SpinCycle staff member and said, "I think my clothes have been stolen." She went and got the O G. He tells me that they had taken them out of the wash because they had been abandoned in there since one o'clock, and now that Laundry Love was here they needed the machines for that instead. Of course that was a god damned lie. Marz picked me up at 4:41, (i looked at my phone). I was concerned about the time because the last time I had to do this, I had to wait for two hours to get started -didn't follow unspoken rule three. but this time, per the rules, I had put it in about five o'clock, and the "quarters got there about 5:30. Another worker corroborated the fabrication, that they'd been there all day. I demanded my clothes so I could put them back in the machine. OG said if i didn't leave he was going to call the police. he said I was being racist. But i wasn't. I'm not. Ihad said nothing which could possibly be construed as such. The accusation to which i made no response is beneath reproach. Marz was confused embarrassed maybe. Dom was timidly indifferent, and had no help to offer. I was furious. I stayed in the quarter line. Perhaps I'd get marz to take me to the sunrise laundry on Oltorf, but they ran out of quarters as I approached. The bag lady and I were fucked.
OK so what am I supposed to do with all those clothes. I thought for a second. I can't wear them. I have no idea how i could wash them. The ARCH is out of the question. That perfect bedlam is a ticket to a mugging, now with all the K2 junkies. If i only had a sink or a tub like all the people in there doing laundry do at home, and i could dry them on a line easy enough. I paid good money for a lot of that stuff. I volunteered at St Vinny's for some of it. My friend Desi gave me a bunch of new socks on Christmas. Those are my nice things. I like having nice clean clothes. That is so fucked.
Well I don't need to be carrying around a bunch
of wet nasty clothes for no reason, anyway. I
decided to leave before I got upset, before the
cops got there. I left
a flummoxed Marz. Walked "home" on
foot. When i got to South first sure enough
a police cruiser whizzed by, looking
for me, I imagine. People are so quick to call
the cops. All that hard gangster nonsense is
bullshit, (the dude works at a laundry, 1st off)
and call the cops on someone for being
homeless + white. Oh how 'hood. We get
6 29 15
I called the number held magnetically to the side of the truck. After a couple of phone calls I spoke with a Mr. Rhodes., I think, he'd just acquired Sunterra who sub-subs out the work to Alex, Elvis et al..I dont know. Rhodes was very cooperative and wanted to be helpful. He gave me the number of his guy named Patrick. A real Asshole. He did not want to discuss it at all, I got the impression he knew Alex was going to be a pain in his ass. He told me to leave his guys alone. The next week they arrived with the magnet removed from door of the truck. They had a 12 year old operating a riding lawnmower. The whole crew from Mexico. Which I'm cool with. I'm all for Mexicans coming up here for a job. What I'm not cool with is when subcontractors like Patrick, and Josiah Longbons, Use it as an excuse to merely pay people a pittance. Every one wants to blame the “Illegals” for “taking our jobs”. That's horse-shit. The real culprits are the subcontractors who say; “..why should I hire/insure/tax American, for a “living wage” when I can just exploit a meskin slave.” as former business owner with payroll I feel for employers but, It ends up just lowering everyone's work wages. And in the long run corrupting values in general. They did the same with women's rights, and since the seventies, it has taken at least two adults to support a modest household. And now it really takes three. Mexicans are obviously hip to this; that's why they've got Junior riding the mower every Saturday.
So I stopped Elvis again and he turned off his
leaf blower. I told him I need my bike back,
that it wasn't a derelict bike. They would have to pay a fair price if they
want to keep it. I told him, when he was
finished, I'd like him to take me to speak with
his boss, about Alex stealing my bike. They may
have thought it was abandoned but It wasn't. At
that point his coworker approached and ask in
Spanish what we were talking about. Elvis
explained. Something lost in translation, the
coworker became furious at my accusation and
spewed the familiar Spanish vitriol, “Pinche tu
madre”, and all the rest of it. He said he was
going to hit me. He was a small man spoke only
Spanish, but I couldn't doubt his sincerity. I
wasn't interested in fighting the little fellow.
Fighting isn't ever fun. I'm not stupid, these
little guys can surprise ya. That's when I
decided to go forget everything and relax at
Starbucks. I did for about an hour. I read. Then
a cop showed up. And three more. And then Josiah
Longbons, the white man who called them. He
doesn't work with his crew. He doesn't work at
the property or live nearby. I had never spoken
to, or seen him before that day. The officer
told me he wanted to help me. I told him I
didn't call them because they're worthless. The
cop said he was there to help me get my bike
back. I explained the situation to the police,
that I had demanded the return of my property,
but had avoided an altercation. He asked why I
stole Elvis' iPhone. I said: “He handed it to me
to talk to his boss, and I gave it back after
the man hung-up on me”The cops took me to jail.
No citation no warning, no criminal charges, no
arraignment, no reason, no warrant. Of course I
wasn't intoxicated. I don't drink. They just
hauled me off to the Juzgado. First, without
cause or my permission, they searched through my
computer bag for drugs (in which I don't
indulge) or Weapons, (although I am well within
my rights to have one, I'm afraid I'd probably
be killed by a cop for bearing it). I told them
in very certain terms, that I think they are a
bunch of God Damned worthless fraudsters and
criminals. Which of course they are. After they
knowingly and willfully deprived me of access to
my valuable property; the now wasted six hours
worth of my time, I was released from jail. When
I recovered my computer bag, it was emptied in
total disarray to a filthy yellow rubber bag,
and the computers do not function as they had.
The touch screen digitizer on the tablet doesn't
respond properly, and there is a large dark area
on the monitor of the laptop. My ball-cap was
not returned. They also stole two lighters, and
a small leatherman. Most importantly though my
time was stolen. Again, by worthless city cops.
This sort of nonsense has become thestandard,
with city police. Once they “know” someone he's
in the list of bad guys, who have no rights.
*No one questions this. Badge
numbers should be a little more like the numbers
on football jerseys. Big. Visible. OK, so we
know what team your on by the uniform. But If
you make a foul play, who are you to hide in a
blue crowd? Who the fuck died to make you
anonymous shakedown thug? And on my dime.
AND DORIS DAY
[ I've set my commentary apart as right justified, when i could, with a sans serif font and within in square brackets. Attorneys will appreciate that. I begin to take on the writers first person perspective as you read on. a what-were-you-thinkin? sort of thing. ],
My uncle had a simple response to the biblical directive to feed the hungry. He would offer a meal to beggars seeking money. Since college I have often used his method of distinguishing between those wanting food and those wanting liquor, drugs, etc.
[ Her entire article is initially based on a bogus premise. I'd like to say that right off the bat. My father was a bible scholar and probably the wisest man I've known. I'm obviously not an evangelical but I picked up a few things from the man, thank God. I miss him terribly.
The biblical directive to "feed my sheep" is an analogue, the "feeding" a reference for learning and teaching scripture.
Actually the real biblical directive concerning this situation can be found at the end of proverbs: "Let them drink and forget their poverty and remember their misery no more." Interestingly; this is also where we learn about the "noble woman" and her generous virtues, valued attributes. (the "immoral woman" is at the beginning of proverbs).]
Some memorable encounters with street people in the capital of the United States are discussed below. The stories you are aboutto read are true. Only my name was changed, to protect the innocent.
[She's probably an affluent K street attorney in DC but she's not very smart. Perhaps she's in a position to really help the poor, from inside the legislature. It looks like she's convinced herself that she's the only innocent person on earth.
Jesus loathed attorneys. He said something like: If they could, attorneys would cut you off from the keys of wisdom (your own senses) with their sophistry. Attorneys weigh you down with burdens they won't even touch, they lie to themselves, worst of all, they justify their own greed and apathy.
Working for attorneys, dealing with legislation and judicial matters I've developed a prejudice toward lawyers. Commentary herein willcertainly be biased]
Those Who Are Hungry Need Just One Chance
[Nice Title, I think it means:
During a major recession, Americans were crisscrossing the country in a futile search for jobs. One morning a skinny young manstopped me and politely sought money for breakfast. I offered instead to buy his meal at a nearby fast-food restaurant. At his request, I also invited his even scrawnier buddy. Each man was soft-spoken, wore a cheap suit, and carried a flimsy suitcase.
That was a kind act I'm convinced it actually happened like that. When I have been extremely hungry I started to lose my voice, became soft spoken indeed.
We talked while waiting in line. It turned out that the two men had left the Deep South in a fruitless search for work. They had pursued rumored job openings to Chicago and then had traveled by bus from one city to another. That morning they had arrived, broke, in Washington for a construction job interview. While we stood talking, the two men avidly watched the meals being served. The buddy, in particular, was mesmerized by the food. A silent man, he lifted his eyes from each passing food tray only to gaze, spellbound, at the next loaded tray passing by. Clearly, it had been a while since the two wanderers had had enough to eat. I liked both men, who had a quiet dignity. I am happy I bought them a big breakfast to prepare them for their interview. [ What a self centered arrogant statement, “I bought” made her happy, rather than seeing hungry guys get to eat. What selfish pride. ] For once I felt I might have made a difference for the better. The men needed the meal for the energy to convince the interviewer they could handle hard labor or for the strength to keep trying if not hired.
Encounters with panhandlers are rarely so
satisfying. . [well it's not supposed to be satisfying at
all, you give someone in need something it set's you back] Sometimes the beggar is too far gone from
drink, drugs, or hopelessness to seek
employment, so the donor’s assistance makes
no long-term difference.
[Beggar, Mendicant. Wow. Well that's just mean and sort of classicist. Desperate situations can compel people to swallow their prideand ask for help. Resort to begging, if you will. That's much better than resorting to theft, though. And poor folks aren't the only ones who drink. Over the years, I've personally known several millionaires who are total alcoholics and some, despite assets and holdings, are otherwise worthless. let's be real here. Corporate welfare and the quantity of tax breaks to billionaires outweigh street begging by an order of magnitude nearly beyond measure. All that dough could really help the glaring housing problem. Begging.. The word makes it out like they're pestering just one person for a lot of money (thats grant-writing), but the idea is you ask several people for a little bit. I've done it. I tried. like a lot of things though, I didn't give it my heart. Only for two reasons: It didn't payoff for me, and it really starts to make you lose faith in humanity. So few people help, and it's usually the poor workers who give change, never the bureaucrat in the BMW or the ad exec in the Lexus. Some folks make out pretty good “spanging”, but not me. So I don't do it. There's nothing wrong with it, unless you misrepresent yourself by posing as charity like “save the children”]
cold day a filthy man dragging a bedroll
approached me for a handout. [Can you believe the gull to
be filthy or to tired to lift your
nap-sack?] I had seen him
never offered help. what's with these
people, they're everywhere.. and always
outside.] Like many street
people, he had appeared mentally defective
and lost in his own bizarre world. [The Socially Dominant
Minority doesn't share the same world with
“bizarre mental defectors”, the socially
dominant do not contribute to the causes or
effects of poverty] I offered
to treat him to lunch
In reply, he grinned. The man clearly understood that I would not buy him liquor, and he knew the stereotype. With perfect good humor, he said, “You don’t understand. I want whiskey. I want whiskey.” We looked at each other and then stood laughing together in the pale winter light.
[We both laughed because we both like to booze it up from time to time, but we both know poor people shouldn't. Since he knew I wasn't giving out cash i was relieved to avoid running him down to wall-mart for lotrimin, toiletries socks, or a tent or what ever he really needed. Please take note: in addition to my masters from George Washington University, I'm possessed by literary genius. You liked my pale winter touch there, admit it.]
The Angry Chameleon
Sometimes the beggar is an impostor. The best faker I ever met was an angry young man with a mission.
[because, If you've been fucked by "the government" or society or whatever and end up on the skid, then you try and speak out or engage in institutional analysis and try to effect change to prevent others being screwed, your poverty is not legit. All "activists" are impostors and they deserve what they get; poverty, silence, jail, murder and all the rest.]
At our initial encounter in 1985, the man declined my offer of a meal, saying he was not hungry. Instead he wanted money to pursue a class-action lawsuit against the government.
Oh boo hoo, the man lost his appetite by the nauseating state of affairs, so If he had a brain he would have thought about going to University to learn the correct and proper political ins and outs of our corrupted legislature or navigating a judiciary which is badly in need of reform.
Subsequently, I saw this panhandler on the street from time to time. I generally waved to him, and he generally scowled but whispered a greeting. At one meeting he said he was an author. Unlike most mendicants, he had lucid, intelligent eyes and was clean. He was almost always angry, yet candid with me.
[ the fact he could find the time and place to keep kempt is proof that he's an impostor. Filth, dim wit and laziness is practically the definition of poverty. Real poor people are despondent not indignant, FAKER.]
During the three or more years I knew him, the man appeared on the streets of the U.S. capital in various guises and locations. In winter he sometimes had a plaid skirt over his coat, wore a dress and matching turban, or went shoe-less in sub-freezing temperatures. In summer he often wore a long print mu-muu and shoes. On one memorable occasion he showed up wearing only a loincloth.
[I never even thought to bring him some old shoes or normal clothes because he's a faker and we all thought it was kind of entertaining watching him in the muumuu, freeze himself to the icy side walk. Guy probably has a trust fund and a condo.]
This panhandler did not beg full time. Sometimes when he needed cash to support his [ridiculous] lawsuit or [pinko leftist] writing, he turned up in front of Washington’s largest department store or by popular businesses. Occasionally he sat on a grate before a restaurant with diners outside.
At times the man played his role well but for little gain. For example, his choice of a hot-air grate in front of the restaurant with outdoor tables sounds inspired. However, his timing was bad. It was August, and passersby were unmoved by the sight of a beggar on a hot-air grate in sweltering weather.
He also did poorly in the loincloth. For this role he lay raving on the sidewalk with his long hair and flowing beard hiding his face [as we all know, hair and beard are not a real part of an actual face, even if your a Brooklyn Jew, those soup-catchers are only for anonymity. That's why God made Norelcos, fool. All it takes is little soap and a Bic and in five minutes these tramps can look more like womyn] and with a cup for money beside him. The cup was empty. [ FAIL.] Pedestrians were likely scared to approach the apparent lunatic.
[yeah, I know I called him lucid and intelligent before but he was just not clever enough for duping saps for money, anyway, ...condo, i bet ]
When I [was on my way to one of Julius Gwyer's elite parties], wearing a cocktail suit and matching high heels, saw the raving, nearly naked beggar, I stopped. I was debating calling the police to his [My] aid when I suddenly recognized him. As I walked away, the subject of his ravings changed. Looking like [that hairy derelict Jew;] Jesus Christ [my Lord and savior, I swear], he called after me, “Ooh, sexy! There goes Doris Day!”
I spotted the man intermittently after that and then not for about seven months. However, one of my [Irish-Mexican] colleagues came across him begging in church during Mass. She said he had dazed eyes and was filthy.
[the new manager at Carl's Jr. must have got tired of him using the lady's powder room to wash his nuts. BUT HE'S STILL A FAKER, and the dazed eyes from sleeplessness is all part of the show ]
Later I occasionally saw the man outdoors. I was shocked. [ but for no ostensible reason ] One winter morning he was sleeping on a bench [ only pretending to be homeless ]. Another winter morning he was rummaging through a trash can [ All Part of his elaborate ruse ]. He was dirty [ It looked pretty real he probably payed Rick Baker a fortune for the cinematic vagabond make-over ] , and he pretended not to see me. [even though i did a little jig and waived my arms flailed about. he's a total pretender] The street had claimed him, to the point that the sham beggar finally was real. [ once these guys are that far gone there's no helping them, who'd want to anyway, yuck! I'm sure glad I never fell for his scheme ]
Life can be unforgiving for the homeless. I [ totally ] saved one person from the street, at least for a while. [ for the better part of a whole morning...on a week day too] I met this panhandler in August 1986 on a morning when I was late for work and everything had gone wrong. [ Hungry tramp MEND-I-CANT was the last thing I needed to deal with ]
At first glance, the beggar appeared to be a male teenage runaway. However, when we signed into my office building to buy breakfast, I discovered that the “boy” was named Kathy [or elle-mae or kisha. one of those trailer gal names, you know]. Only later did I figure out why this rather pretty female [*] was trying to pass on the street for a guy.
Seeing Kathy roam agitatedly about the snack shop, I concluded she was on drugs and needed her family. She at first rejected my offer to phone her parents but abruptly changed her mind. I tried unsuccessfully to reach them in Appalachia. I also called Trailways hoping it would take Kathy home under its program for reuniting teenaged runaways with their families. However, when the bus company asked her age, I learned with surprise that this flat-chested, boyish “teenager” was twenty-five. [ she had like NO TITS at all! Ha ha ]
While I was making the phone calls, Kathy was exhibiting signs of extreme agitation. Finally she confided in me the problem. Just hours before, a stranger had raped her! [why, it hadn't donned on me that's who I was phoning]
was shocked into silence and at a loss for a
good solution. [ and i sure
as shit wasn't about to put her up, she'd get us
both raped ] Kathy, who had a criminal record, [ Probably an escaped serial murderer ] apparently did not
trust the police. [ which is
just pure craziness because everyone knows the
police are our only benefactors, and they'd
never lie or hurt anyone ]
best solution seemed to be to get Kathy
home. [ but wait i forgot
she's a twenty five year old escaping the most
desperately impoverished part of west Virginia,
and appearanly has a criminal record to boot ]
[ because even though she's not Eastern Star, Daughters of Job, never even a girl scout; you'll be out of sight out of mind and off the streets of DC. it's back to uncle-daddy and the hill-billy cousin-in-laws for you, Honey.]
There was one funny scene in my distressing encounter with Kathy. On our walk to Travelers Aid, we had to step over a mendicant lying on the sidewalk. It was the angry chameleon. Thinking Kathy badly needed a laugh, I told her he was a con artist. To her credit, she was able to laugh a little. [ I felt so proud of myself for taking advantage of her stress to manipulate this pathetic streetwalker to help me ridicule her classmate] The scene proved a fitting finale to an encounter showing repeatedly that appearances can be deceptive in beggar land. There were five of us in the tableau. Kathy, clutching the breakfast she had been too nervous [ from being raped ] to eat, and I, looking expensively dressed, stood laughing about the [filthy, tired, homeless, hungry, yet still faking, indignant ] beggar, [ YAY for me] he sprawled piteously before our feet, and a passing couple glared, outraged—-at the rape victim and her [proudly heroic] helper. [ Those bleeding heart suckers, If they only knew how cool I think I am ]
Kathy’s situation taught me about the crime against her. If she is a good example, rape unleashes an emotional holocaust in its victim.
[ and it's fucking awesome to watch and then manipulate those emotional strings like a marionette muah ha. Remember this next time you meet a rape victim ]
Through later research I also learned everything I had done wrong in reacting to her trauma. I was silent from shock when I should have spoken, I said things I should not have, and I should have found a rape crisis center. Well, I am an attorney, not a social worker [ Thank GOD, those losers make only like 40k ] , who tried. Despite all my mistakes, Kathy was grateful to me and seemed to understand most of what I was saying to her in my heart.
The Face in the Mirror
My most perplexing encounter with a beggar involved a female with a cause. The meeting was to a disconcerting degree an encounter with myself. [ and she wasn't male (I've tried desperately to not be overtly genderist. fuckit i may just let it all hang out) ]
In 1984 I got stopped on my way to lunch by a woman unlike any panhandler I had ever seen. In fact, she looked a lot like me. She appeared to be my age, we were similarly well dressed [ yeah, GUCCI bitches! ] , and she would have fit in at my college reunion. She was one of the few beggars with a touch of class.
[ by class I mean money of course because, if you've read this far it should be obvious I don't know the first thing about character or spirit ]
I hesitated when she politely requested money. In essence, I could not understand why I would ask me for cash, since this apparently was not a temporary predicament like a snatched purse. Reluctantly, I invited the woman to join me for lunch. She hesitated but politely declined.
Months later I opened the Washington Post and found her photograph and life story. The mendicant, known to her father as “Muffin,” is Ellen Benjamin Thomas. She is my age and a dropout from the upper-middle class. Not long before our encounter, Ellen, who likes poetry, had quit her job, given away her possessions, and married Thomas, a nuclear-arms protester living on the streets. (With her husband, she went on to focus for decades on fighting nuclear weapons.)
[ Oh these bleeding farts and their stupid causes, when are they gonna figure out it's all about the money not all that stupid ethical stuff, ah c'mon they know it already. They are a bunch of fraudsters fakes and impostors ]
After reading the newspaper, I was glad I had offered Ellen lunch in 1984 and glad she had refused. In one respect, her refusal cost her little. Based on the article, she frequently eats restaurant fare. However, this woman who is much like me gets food out of a restaurant’s garbage dumpster. [ HA HA HA, all part of act one kids ]
In 1987 I passed the nuclear disarmament group in its usual spot near the White House. I recognized, I believe, Ellen in the group. While she looked happy, she also looked worn and much older than before. Life on the streets is tough, especially on women.
[ It's true, I swear I'm not sexist at all. It's science, men just have this chromosome which make them less susceptible to the lack of clean running water, fresh food and shelter. Look it up it's like the normal chromosome but mutated, they call it the "Why" chromosome and this is "why" they can flourish without the basics and spend all day (and night) out of doors doing hard labor and stuff. In the olden days before gyms this is how they would tone their abs ]
Hunger Test Rules
you decide to use my uncle’s hunger test, I
suggest you follow seven rules. They are:
[ they have a special task force
called the FINDERS
2. Follow safety procedures. When leading a panhandler to an eatery, use only busy, well-lighted streets. Never flash a bankroll in paying for the meal.
3. Except in unusual circumstances [such as food ministries, soup kitchens, pantries and food banks, EBT programs, WIC, Shelters, community centers, clinics, elder care facilities and programs like meals on wheels, hospitals, disaster relief and refugee camps, things like peace corps, or missionary, outreach, jpusa, wywam, birthright, all of these are unusual and should be avoided] , feed at most one beggar a day. It is better to help one than to become discouraged and help none.
[ besides you don't even need to do that much to feel good about yourself. And just forget about housing and showers, they are out there and filthy for a reason. Some folks would argue that there are health risks being posed to Us by the ever increasing number of unwashed beggars who shit in our ally ways and share our municipalities. Well that's just liberal propaganda trash, if you're really worried about it, just invest in Hand Sanitizer stock, I've made a killing in that market in the last ten years]
4. Except in unusual circumstances, feed each panhandler once only.
[ Jesus never really said to teach them to fish. If they get hungry again just let it be someone else's problem ]
5. Do not leave the diner before your guest has been served the meal ordered. Thus he will neither get kicked out nor revise the order to substitute an alcoholic drink.
[ It may not be the first thing to think of, but remember besides restaurants there are these places called grocery stores but some of those you have to actually prepare the food, it's not convenient and there's a learning curve for cooking. But what ever you do, NEVER give the poor money or allow these mendicants to take control of their financial decisions, this is crucial for a stable society, there are programs and case management people to decide how poor people's cash should be administered ]
6. Tip the waitress generously. [unless you suspect she's homeless, then you can dine and dash, just tell your mendicant you need to pee, and dip out discreetly ] Often street people are undesirable customers. [ wait staff don't like to handle money if it's ever been in a beggar's grimey meat beaters, which he uses directly instead of Charmin or Cottonelle]
be polite, [ tramps may
punch rude people ] and keep your sense of humor [ home-bums are always good for a laugh ] and spirit of adventure as
you enter briefly
Who Are the Beggars?
While the hunger test is not perfect, I found it quite effective at distinguishing the hungry from the others. More often than not, mendicants have rejected my offer of a meal. Most of those who accepted food did appear to need a helping hand.
The hunger test is also illuminating in other ways. As seen above, beggars include: (1) two young black males from the rural South searching everywhere for work; (2) an aging black male alcoholic; (3) an educated white male who transformed from a fake beggar to a real one; (4) a white lower-class female from Appalachia in desperate circumstances; and (5) a white upper-middle-class female [*] from California who jumped off the yuppie track for love and an ideal.
[ these will be the crown jewels of the new Jerusalem when I enter the kingdom, certainly first in line]
If you want to help hungry street people but not be duped, either try the hunger test or volunteer at a soup kitchen. You may even like some of the colorful characters you meet. I do!
[ But always remember these subhumans are NOT REAL PEOPLE like you and I and should never be thought of as equals]
a review of the documentary film "War on Whistleblowers": Free Press and the National Security State 2013
by::Lee frnk <at> (g)mail
3 22 15
I don't regularly review movies. But this thing deserved some special attention. I love nonfiction, social commentary, and documentary. And this one caught my attention, so I watched it.What started out as a film which would look like an interesting documentary about whistle blowers exposing government misdeeds (and admittedly could be technically classified as such) quickly digressed into a well funded, shameless promotion for more military equipping and funding which in fact is at an absurdly high level already considering the fact that "the machine has come home" and is now aimed at the same civilian public that this costly war has blindly impoverished and imprisoned. Perhaps the only redeeming quality as a documentary was that in the opening titles it does actually mention several legit whistle blowers whose stories, all be them well known, are indeed well worth looking into. So have a notepad handy for later research if you are going to check it out. On the other hand I felt that the footage of Edward Snowden was only used in an attempt to lend legitimacy to this obvious military industrial propaganda, and I doubt it had his blessing or permission. I sincerely feel he's being exploited here.
has elevated production values, excellent music, which
tugs the emotional strings, crafty editing, and a clever
narrative and slick post work. For a about a fourth of
the movie, I was taken in, and then I was like: "wait a
minute here, is this all it's about? -new toys for
soldiers?" well that's fine, but at least give it a
title to match, guys. One positive note: An unintended
effect of the film may be: the audience should realize
that the folks who create war are in the business of
killing soldiers. Reducing the population on all sides.
In the movies spies are always cool. They are so cool even "arogant", or that was the term used by director Jon Woo to describe his prtrayal of spies anyway. Cool adventures with all the coolest gadgets. Yeah. But i think they aren't cool at all. In reality they are a bunch of fruity creeps. Weazles. Sleazy peeping toms. Think: blue water ninja.
Oh?.. so you don't know about the blue water ninja?
Well this is the image which comes to mind when I think of Spies.
The blue water ninja was a letcherous hump who has become the creepy stuff of urban legends so kafkaesque. he inspired the song "Blue Water" by John Jydon, He was this dude who obviously had some sort of sexual neurosis which compelled him to don goggles and hefty bags with duct tape in a manor which would hopefully protect him from the blue water as he would gingerly climb down inside a frequently used porta-jon in order to peep ass indiscriminantly.
There for hours, he would lie in wait; literally inside the toilet portion of the modern plastic outhouse, blue water gradually seeping in through the improvised seems of his gladlock ninjasuit while sewer trout swim about the nose hole of his binliner like melted bananas squishing between his toes.
And go through all that just so he could catch a glimpse of your puckered sphincter before goggles are splattered.
yay! spies are cool like that. They pilfer through your used coffee grounds, orange peels and tampons at five in the morning. They tap in and listen on the phone when you talk to your mom, your doctor, your legal advisor, and your spouse. they go to your bank and steal from your safe deposit. they watch the camera on your iPhone when you take it to the shitter to browse the on-line sears catalog. unlike in the movies they drive like idiots. they cant seem to find a parking spot they like, untill you get there; but when they do decide on one they sit in the car and watch ya. Creepy. They do anything to dismantel your support structures, by slandar, libel and dirty tricks. They might pretend to be a romantic interest. Or pay some street kids to rob you.
Spies are just creepy, God damned weasles, thieves, gossips, liars. Just fruitcake peeping tom types.
The "Intelligence" aparat currently has 1.6 million
targeted individuals here in north America. With a
budget of at least $25k anum per TI. With that many
targets and that much muoney you would hope that some
are ligit, like organized criminals and some bonafied
terrorists. but mostly they are just well meaning
Americans. they are all devils being "kept in the hole"
to an over funded grudge team who is desparate to
justify it's existance. Targets are mostly business
competitors and political oponents of the current
administration, and moreover they are enemies of
washington insiders from the special commities and
counsils. But even gangsters and terrorists go free, if
they support the covert ops of these goddam worthless
creeps. spies. blue water ninjas.
My interests in this supposed tragedy reside in the fact that the accident or suicide happened literarily in our back yard and the coincidence that my good chum, Ken, went MIA just about that time. We thought maybe he had been hit by the train. Old Ken, one of my neighbors down the creek, would sometimes walk the tracks a piece on his way to the labor hall at dawn It's a route usually avoided by the more sensible residents of our 'hood simply because a big old train goes a rumblin' down them tracks from time to time. Although it's more expedient to take the tracks if the weather is in a state to make traversing the wooded hill a muddy slimy one.
So the story in the paper, which was subsequently picked up by some TV news outlets who pooped it on to the web, ..well that story in its various mutated forms said that a man had died on the tracks, he was in his 20s, in his 30s, in his 40s, he was White, he was Hispanic. The engineer/conductor [whatever] had hit the emergency brakes but couldn't stop in time. Figure. It was an accident, no, it was a suicide. (but I thought they never report those, I 'don'no, but I was told that by an AP writer after we saw a man jump from atop the Frost's mezinine a couple of years ago)
In the story in question though, the police were called but not EMS since it was "an obvious death". Well, I went down there and there wasn't any blood. I know exactly where it was supposed to have happened, from the photo... the photo in the statesman piece, which I thought looked a little odd. I mean the “Authorities” were all gathered around the FRONT of the Un-Pac train engine to sort of pose, not along the side of it with the boxcars; like you'd think it would end up if the freakin' train had a little trouble stopping on a dime. I'm no forenzics scientist, perhaps the victim stuck to the front of the locomotive until it did stop, kind of like a bug in a cartoon or something. Anything's possible.
Eventually Ken turned up, thank goodness. He'd landed a Full-time job and was working nights. He had actually witnessed the thing stop that morning and told me that indeed they engaged the emergency brakes and sparks were flying from the cars where he was. And this happens to correlate to the smelted hunk of material I found singed into a tie where I was looking for a puddle of human blood. The poor man got mangled up inside enough to be called "an obvious death" but, I guess he didn't get tore up or bleed out. I don't know. That's why I called folks at the paper. I also tried in earnest, to glean some info by contributing to the comments and discussions on the local news sites on line. There was one reader who said he knew the dead man but couldn't confirm simple aspects or convince me he really had known him. At that point I was still trying to determine if it was old Ken or not, but the people I met with and the guys over at the metro desk of the Statesman couldn't tell me a thing. They told me to call the Police, who told me to call the Medical Examiner and this is when the thing gets weird, the Man couldn't even tell us if anyone had officially been brought in at all that day. The more I looked into the matter the more it started to look like some sort of colossal media fakery initiated by Austin police. But that didn't make any sense. Why would they do that? I couldn't even begin to theorize about this would be conspiracy. And frankly I don't have time to engage in that kind of craziness, that nonsense. . .
. . . Although, one branch of this sprawling goose chase which to me stood out as particularly Brazilian* were the terms and conditions to which I was obliged to agree, in order to contribute to comments section of the story on the COX media owned Statesman website. First of the terms was to plainly grant these COX suckers “administrative access” to my G-mail account. When I read that I thought “that can't be right” and behold there was a little blue “More Info..” link there. I clicked. And indeed they wanted to be able to read mail, send mail, delete mail, change settings, passwords, and completely remove the account if they would wish to. Of course this is the most absurd and arrogant effort to control information I think I have ever seen, even since Rockefeller created the framework for the American library system. (I was very young then :o) While trying to reach the site admin, Zach Ryall, I asked the Statesman's assistant web-designer Gabby, what she thought of the terms and if she would agree. "Definitely not" she said, " It's a strange policy,and I wasn't aware that would be in the terms." She did agree with my thoughts, that it might appear "kind of Orwellian" she "couldn't imagine what obscure legal precaution might be in place", but she didn't agree that it would have a chilling effect on Statesmen reader comments in general. It becomes obvious that it has though, when you compare the comments to the other local news outlets where readers have used their real Facebook and G-mail accounts to comment, yet the statesman commenters are all clearly anonymous or at least pseudonymous and photoless and of course much fewer in number. I asked her if she worried discussing it would effect her job, but she became politely unresponsive at that point. Perhaps she didn't know what I meant by "I'm doing a piece for a local publication with a modest readership". A few weeks later I tried again to reach Zach, the man I was told could answer questions about the policy's origin. This time Monica answered the phone. I asked her what she thought about it. “That's OK”, she said “ I guess it's just what you have to do these days if you want to contribute.” I was appalled, because it's not true nor should it ever be. Free and open communications by the informed electorate is the cornerstone of effective governance. Well Zach could not be reached. Yeah, another dead end. Time to regroup and write about some other shit.
*Brazilian here is a reference to Terry Gilliam's 1984 classic film, “Brazil”, a satyric kind of parody of modern bureaus, another iteration on Orwell's work, 1984.
*Bedroom, I say rather than 'tent'
since folks fail to take you seriously once they
discover you've become homeless, a situation I'm not
at all fond of, by the way.
“There is an ongoing problem which effects a lot of people, Especially residents of Travis county who don't have homes. The restaurants here usually have signs that on their walls or windows that say RESTROOM FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY. To me this means if you are not buying anything you can not use the restroom. Then if you have medical issues which appear later, someone must be liable. Human Rights are being violated, so they are violating human rights based on economic status and appearance.” ~Glen B.
OK, we can all agree that Glen here is right. People Poop. What are you gonna doo? It happens. And it would be smart to do something with it. Just leaving one in June ally isn't proper. Of course, the elderly-homeless* are forced to do it. Tourists do it. Drunken locals do it. Why? Because finding a toilet downtown is impossible. Especially if, as Glen points out you're not interested in or unable to make a purchase.
Taking a dignified shit is a basic human right. We are taught early how to properly do it. So obstructing someone from this just-need is just-stupid. It's not healthy for this to go on, Austin. And blaming the victim here is as absurd as tying a man down and calling him lazy. Businesses with the privilege of operating in the public sphere have this responsibility to the public. To provide and maintain adequate facilities for every one. As does the public have a responsibility to themselves to not piss all over the place and leave a bunch of gross trash. Oh, and scratch up the mirror like a derelict eight year old. Nevertheless it is in the interest and responsibility of those engaged in commerce provide facilities not the churches or residents. Guess who is supposed to be regulating commerce? This all really should go without saying, people. But some how the obvious has escaped us and we've found ourselves in this absurd shituation.
“Yes”, you say “but Dogs poop too” And indeed they doo. In fact S. Lamar has become the yup-pup-poop capital of Austin. Especially along the thin strips of grass which line the new, cracker-box, soviet-stazi, prison/hospital, condos rapidly climbing cranes up there. It's everywhere you can smell it. Rained on. Stepped on .Waffled into the tred of your bike tire. It is out of control. I have half a mind to go in there, into the lobby of the Gibson Flats, a couple of hoboed out tramps with me, poo on our shoe and a plate of brownies inhand. Each one rolled up into a tapered turd, garnished with Kentucky yard grass, for an authentic poopie-bomb appearance. And I'll do my best “drill sergeant”informing the lease agent, “ I told you last time, If I have to pick it up again someone's gonna to eat it.” Then we eat the brownies. Performance art baby. You just wait for it on Youtube or Kxan.. wait for it.
And what is it that syncronizes habitus omnus of the Austonian to flush at precisely the moment I arrive downtown in the morning. You gotta know city planners didn't have that structure in mind when that system was conceived . Because they have to truck it out, don't they. Well, that doesn't make sense. Like, let us put some heavy ass water-filled barriers right where the guardrail got washed out.
I always thought modern water treatment was questionable, with how we weigh the solid waste down with heavy metals in these tanks and then we put the water back into supply. Dreadful. We could burn it as a fuel. Or process it into soil treatment. I saw a deal on line where you can “donate” a poop. For like 50 bucks a load (yes to the donor) some biotech and botonists geeks will gladly recieve cryogenically store and your poop for future posterity. No doubt, one day some wild eyed madman may revive frankenpoop and unleash him upon unsuspecting residents of the future! Oh, it's right here: http://www.openbiome.org/ I don't know, I haven't done the math but, at fifty dollars per movement,(of which, some Austonian's have as many as three in a day) ..at that rate, hey, I think I just solved the cities 2015 budget problems, because, if anything, this town is full of shit.
*elderly-homeless(the English term
Deftly's bio, from
Jereme Lee Ракер является известный художник и сертифицированы ведущими культ хиппи (1), в настоящее время гастролей использовании Соединенными Штатами теории игр и найденных объектов в приложениях, изобразительного искусства.
Neoist, поэт, музыкант и lettrist Jereme стал центральной фигурой в распространении американской субкультуры в то время как полностью переопределяет интеллигенции.
Он официально изучал скульптуру, акриловой и масляной живописи в классической традиции. Он внештатной основе, связей с общественностью, интерактивные мультимедийного контента, компьютерной анимации, нелинейного монтажа, и счетчик пиар-кампаний, графического дизайна и логотипа для лечения ряда крупных корпораций и малых предприятий. Ранее глава Vision Изображения и арт-директором Пятая колонна сейчас он руководитель проекта Целевого разработки игр в Омахе. Автор одной книги, он также является техническим консультантом для многих фирм в области телекоммуникаций, рекламы, интернет-услуг, энергетики, право, и экологические исследования. Эксцентричного политического деятеля, в усилия "в знак протеста против нефтяной войны", он не приводной автомобиль с 2001 года, также вместо того чтобы работать на доллары или евро, Jereme контракты почти исключительно для кредитных торговли или бартера. Jereme был членом различных изолированных общин, а также сообщества и окрестности группы активистов в крупных городах. В относительно короткий период времени он участвовал в разработке мощных децентрализованную сеть влияний. Хотя неутомимый общественный деятель и институциональных аналитик он был инновационного предпринимателя; он владеет и начал много различных предприятий, включая ресторан в Техасе и кровать и завтрак общежития в Колорадо (2). На протяжении большей части 2004 года вещание популярных телевизионных Nullsoft станции из своего дома в Колорадо. Он был членом, добровольцев, инструкторов технологии, и общие сторонник сообщества телевидения доступа. Jereme также обычных FM-радио ди-джей, хостинг спорных дабстеп, гостиной и барабан и бас шоу в 2006 году. До этого он руководил интернет радиостанции в течение двух лет. (Прежде чем закрыть его, станция оказалась достаточной передач мешать noaah, где он стал одним из расположенного его серверы.) Он принимает участие в трех фестивалях. Его изобразительного искусства могут быть найдены на дисплее во многих общественных местах и частных коллекций. Он также внес свой вклад звука производства на несколько EPs для различных художников.
Родился Jereme Ли Ракер в Теллерайд Колорадо к народным художником, Кэт франков и бакалейщик Р. Джордж Ракер на 22 июня 1973 Jereme вырос в сельской местности и малых городах различных Колорадо до переезда в Техас. Среди бурного развода со своей мачехой, его отец, который сохранил под стражей, задержкой его вступления в государственную школу в возрасте до восьми лет. Из-за своего возраста, начиная с момента образования предполагал, что он не должен пройти в сфере начального образования. Это предположение, к сожалению затрудняет получение качественного образования. Научившись читать дома, наконец, в возрасте десяти лет, он начал путать педагогов в возрасте 12 лет, обладающие понимание прочитанного и рассуждения навыков студента колледжа. Он начал создавать искусство в раннем возрасте, поощрять учителей друзьями и семьей. Очевидно скучно с его окружением, Jereme сделал плохо в начале образования часто эскизов на уступки, вместо выполнения поставленных задач. В слабину школьной системы Техас, Jereme смог кататься только на взятии проб и викторины, редко превращаясь в домашнюю или ежедневные задания. Он считался "пугающе умный" его учителей в гимназии, но из-за своего необычного возрасте, когда он вошел младших классах средней школы, он считался полным провалом на тех, кто незнаком с его фона. Jereme остался усердным читателем в молодости. Выросший в нижний средний класс пригород он обнял контркультуры во всех ее проявлениях. Он часто можно увидеть с скейтбордистов и готический панк-банды участвуют наркотиков и преступной деятельности. Тем не менее он избегал тяжелых наркотиков и образа жизни, который приземлился многие друзья его в тюрьме или мертв. В средней школе он часто показывать класс и будет найдено чтении философии или классической литературы в школьной библиотеке. Jereme превратился в студента B и C, но быстро потерял интерес и выпало путешествовать по стране. В конце концов он сделал, наконец, поступить в художественное училище Атланте в 1994 году, где он окончил среднюю в своем классе и продолжил свое образование в различных колледжах и университетах в "независимое исследование" курсов учебного плана, который он сам создает. Это где он обнаружил взлом компьютера и социальной инженерии, и вскоре стал "хакер, что вы никогда не слышали о" (3), в результате чего стремиться к поэтической уровне формы и высокого искусства в компьютерных сетей в подполье, его исследование было считать решающим глубоко затрагивающие популярные социальные движения в обществе. С тех пор в качестве консультанта, он несет ответственность за радикальные реформы в организации, как связи Qwest и grants.gov. Он также отвечает за изменение политики в федеральном уголовном систем. Он был сказать, что ум Эйнштейна, Курт Кобейн, и он был вызван современным Бакминстер Фуллер и гений. (4) Когда его спросили, если он Mensa, он ответил: "Да, карту проведения, но не платят взносы".
из первых авторов первый титул суверенитета ему
приписывают искрение социального движения, которое в
соответствии с "Вашингтон пост" поставил большинство
федеральных судей и несколько полицейских города в
страхе за свою жизнь. В 2009 году Остин американский
государственный деятель, в июне второй статье говорится,
что так слабо организованных последователей этого
движения начали свой коллективный иск против
систематических нарушений прав гражданского в
федеральных, районных и окружных судов, несколько
федеральных судей опасаясь гражданской отдачи, в
настоящее время с просьбой быть приняты на работу в
полицейские машины. Многие судьи теперь также при себе
пистолеты. Это уже было сказано, в какие-то смутные
корреляции, мы сейчас наблюдаем нехватку популярных
В настоящее время он использует новые медиа-искусства: институциональные разведки (иногда упоминается как "пластиковые людей"), чтобы создать красивый и абстрактные формы. Эти работы часто используют институциональные улучшения обратной связи. Эти общественные сооружения reformance Transcend система инициирует в децентрализованной параллельным и распределенным образом. Последние кусок использует классические уравнения Вольтерра и текущий мировой экономики. (Она была незавершенной в то время это было написано) (6)
краткая биография Jereme в интерпретации писателя и
поэта, Тоня Aiosa. Чтобы узнать больше о Jereme Ракер Вы
можете связаться с d3 фундамент доверия, или посетить
http://www.myspace.com/mindofalunitic (рок-группа, что
он по-видимому члена), или вы можете попробовать и
связаться со своим бывшим агентом , Фрэнк из nohrenberg
Bros. Talent Agency.
He thought about joining the military but still has never actually got around to visiting the recruiter who has lived across the street from him for 40 years. He has a decent set of carpentry tools but lacks the good sense to hang a door. He's usually too drunk to look for work during normal hours. He sometimes phones his cousin Jeb, out in Omaha. the last time he put pen to paper was the day he graduated high school. He was first string varsity until he ruptured his Nalgine. He worked part time for McDonalds for four years after graduating. Jereme has lived with his grand mother since 1983. Now a days most folks in town just pretty much ignore him. Jereme is known for his embarrassing lack of knowledge and his allegiance to the "right wing" though he doesn't even know what the state bird is or what's wrong with it's other wing. Jereme likes to eat at McDonalds but sometimes will go to Dairy Queen for a Pee&Nut-Buster Parfait when he can afford to. He listens exclusively to KZEP in his truck. he says that if it ain't been playin' on the radio for at least thirty years than it ain't really a rock classic" Jereme was extremely excited to receive his digital converter box from the Government bur he hates how it cuts out during good plays. but never during time outs Jereme watches VHS tapes from the pawn shop only if they aren't in letterbox format. He likes comedy movies, sports movies, and Horror movies but he says he misses the Commercials like when they have movies on TV. He talks nonstop through any movie if there is company. they hate it but he just cant help it. (especially on Meth) When any one mentions "art" his usual response is "the camera was invented almost a hundred year's ago, what's the point of still doing art."
Lee Rucker in Wetherferd
Texas to a Sears Portrait Photographer named, Kathleen
Gafford and farmer Richard George Rucker on September
8th 1974 Jereme grew up in the countryside in an Alred
Mormon community before relocating to Colorado,
The image of perfect marriage; his father and mother,
prompted his entry into public school at the age of
three. By the fourth grade he began to express an
interest in competitive sports. He began playing
football at an early age encouraged by teachers
friends and family. Because of his young age, from
early on educators assumed he must have been a very
bright student. This presumption fortunately made it
easy for him to receive decent grades. Clearly
enthusiastic about the social element of school,
Jereme did his best effort to look like he was fond of
performing the required tasks. In the slack Texas
school system, Jereme should have been able to skate
by only taking tests and quizzes, even when not
turning in homework or daily assignments. He was
regarded as “frighteningly confused” by his teachers
school. Due to his unusual age when he entered junior
high school, he was thought to be a total genius by
those unfamiliar with his background. Jereme remained
an avid 'sporto' in his youth. Growing up in middle
class rural america he embraced competition in many of
its guises. He would often be seen with jocks, shit
kickers and motor heads that were usually fans of
pornos, booze and hazing
activity. Nevertheless, he avoided getting womped on
by bigger kids because there just weren't too many. In
high school he was well known for far more than just
being the guy who always played ball with a full
bottle of Skol.
He would often skip class and be found masturbating in
the school library. Jereme developed into D and C
student but stuck it out until graduation. He never
considered the thought to enroll in a college. When it
comes to computers he always says "I wouldn't even
know how to turn one a them things on!", His
unquestionable stubbornness has been considered
crucial to avoid affecting the ideology and
perceptions of mainstream society. Since High School
he's remained pretty much the same. Always supports
the troops. his phone number is the same, 8824609. His
social security number is still 644 05 4877, he even
still gets his hair cut at the same barber shop,
Drives the same truck which still has the same fuel
Ol' Jereme's been dragging Main in that leaky F150 since 2001 That goddam thing smokes like a broke stove. I think there's mushrooms growing under the passenger seat. After getting his SS check direct-deposited at Chase, Jereme usually blows it all on Bud Light and Meth in about 6 days. then he goes all over asking for money because he's exhausted all the Microcredit, Payday Loans, Bail Bondsmen and Pawn Brokers. In 2011 he left the grange, he only goes to the kiwanis any more to borrow money from his mom. He secretly works with Green Peace and Texas Campaign for he Environment. He's registered still as a Republican but has probably not voted in a long time. Jereme knows nothing of Politics or world affairs but insists that "The terms right and left wing are define the cultures of America and the world."
Though not a particularly religious man, Jereme has been an ordained minister of the Moroni Baptist church since 2001. In the 90s his father, a life long Atheist, was a Scottish York Mason. He had a absolutely no influence on Jereme's spiritual beliefs but they would often shoot the shit. Jereme was initially raised as an Amish Militant but was baptized into the Church of Set in 2002. Throughout his life, his beliefs gravitated toward a unique form of Television Evangelism not unlike TMZ or Extra, and In 2008 he was "Bared from entry to a mosk" by the Anti-Jihadi Islam and began studying back issues of Tv Guide religiously
This is a brief biography of Jereme as
interpreted by Israeli writer and poet, Maus
Anoni. To find out more about Jereme Rucker you
can contact the SF Ballet, or visit this page
(secretly he is apparently a personal trainer in DC),
or you can try and contact his former agent, frank
from the Nohrenberg Bros. talent agency.
(1) Social Compass; 1968, Vol. 15 Issue 6, p469-481, 13p G. K. Nelson
(1) Ecological Economics; Sep2005, Vol. 54 Issue 4, p347-361, 15p Winder, Nick1 McIntosh, Brian S.2 Jeffrey, Paul2
(1) IEE Proceedings -- Generation, Transmission & Distribution; Mar2005, Vol. 152 Issue 2, p291-294, 4p, 5 charts, 1 graph. C. Jiang www.co-intelligence.org
(1) Engineering Optimization; Apr2004, Vol. 36 Issue 2, p127-147, 21p Zhun Fan1 Kisung Seo1 Jianjun Hu1 Goodman, Erik D.1 Rosenberg, Ronald C.2
(2) The outsiders inn, revolutionaries in exile; The Durango telegraph Sept 24 2004.
(3) Musthaler, Linda. Network World, 10/9/2006, Vol. 23 Issue 39, p45-45, 1/2p; (AN 22745902)
(3) Musthaler, Linda. ComputerWorld (1484-9089), 11/10/2006, Vol. 22 Issue 23, p16-16, 1/3p; (AN 23156357)
(4) Frank, Diane; Sarkar, Dibya. Federal Computer Week, 9/13/2004, Vol. 18 Issue 32, p8-9, 2p, 1 color; (AN 14521304)
(4) Computer & Internet Lawyer, Apr2002, Vol. 19 Issue 4, p23, 2p; (AN 7069336)
(5) Psalms 141:6
(6) Yan, Zhenya. Nonlinear Analysis, Apr2006, Vol. 64 Issue 8, p1798-1811, 14p; DOI: 10.1016/j.na.2005.07.018; (AN 19686948) Volterra and Volterralattice equations via the new discrete sine-Gordon expansion algorithm
(7) SUN, YE-PENG; CHEN, DENG-YUAN; YANG, YAN-ZHEN. International Journal of Modern Physics B: Condensed Matter Physics; Statistical Physics; Applied Physics, 6/20/2007, Vol. 21 Issue 16, p2749-2759, 11p; (AN 25725204)
A FAMILY OF NEW DISCRETE EQUATIONS ASSOCIATED WITH LOTKA–VOLTERRA LATTICE AND ITS INTEGRABLE COUPLINGS
On conspiracy and
I prefer the word Paradigm. I had never heard the term till I was in my 20s. I learned it in college from one of my favorite professors. The word means much, but its about view, and value, how we comprehend our perception of reality and how we feel about that which is beyond our perception.
In the thinking paradigm we strive to apprehend reality beyond our perceptions, in a process called learning. The emergent paradigm holds this excess reality (we'll call wisdom) beneath contempt.
I know a great deal about this ignorant paradigm because I help create it. It's what we do in Public Relations. It's the result you get with some one who watches the television regularly.
In This frightfully wide spread alternative view, even the word it's self; "wisdom" means only "common-sense". There's quite an effort to defend the emerging values which eliminate as much access to reality as possible. You could call it a conspiracy but you'd be innacurate inso doing, since most of this nonsense is bound up in a code of silence. "Conspiricy" defined properly means a criminal discussion, like folks planning a hiest, yeah? But, you don't even have the bennifit of a discussion in this sort of collusion of ignorance.
It's like saying "I don't believe this because I dont know about it and I don't care and I'm filled with contempt because you pointed out my ignorance. So I will ignore this" So there, Nanny boo.
And so thats where Ted
fits in. (the cognizant "waking" version of ted
I have my rent paid up for a while and ted doesnt know how much money i have in the bank. but i sense he'd like to get out while he's ahead. As he was kicking he would be all passive aggressive. Irritable as a junky. He would get furious about things like using the little plastic produce bag to keep onion in the fridge. In the emergent paradigm, youre supposed to throw those away immediatly. as he became "well" (rarely heard slang for not-dopesick) we started to have a few civil conversations some approaching intelectual status even. He once worked up the nerve to pick my brain about solar energy. I know a great deal about free energy research and the offthegrid movement and I wanted to express one serious caveat, before discussing cost benifit analysys of solar conversion. Just this: an indescrete inquiry, even a shallow one into the subject can get one killed. He became irate. Screaming and fussing "That's proposteruos. People use solar all the time. That's absurd youre a conspiracy theorist! " and on and on. The guy totally pitched a fit, before I said one word on the subject. Thats how effective PR programming.
But the awelfully sad fact is; in the past 15 years, several prominant resarchers (usuly just auto mechanics and electricians who've made the ever so slightest innovations) have been murdered and died under mysterious circumstances, and of those left alive most have abandoned thier projects, from the frustration born out of living as a targeted individual. The fact is that just beneath the techniques allowed by industry: wind, solar, hydroelectric just beneath those you quickly get into grey tubes and HHO boost as well as those poised to topple the monopoly on effecient drive train. Heck you got magnet motors, and SSG motors reconditioning bateries. there's people like Stan Meyer, John Bidini, Edwin Grey, Gabe Krone off the top of my hat. Many accross the globe are working with thier research and diagrams. It's big in Austrailia. We brewed biofeul in Albuerque when I was with Saul Goodman and them over at Law Works. I helped engineer and build a Passive solar storage and inverter system, for a rural community in New Mexico. Any Serbian or anyone with knowlege of Nikola Tesla can tell you that this energy scandal is close to ancient. Conspiracy? please.
I got a conspirasy for ya: At some point Ted locks me out of the appartment. I'm thinking he's gone to looking for those pain meds I never got and he's got my enventory spread accross the flat. He wouldnt let me in. So i called up my chum Chris because I'm still broken and he's solid muscle but moreover he's a notoriously calming arbitor. He talks his way in and we go ahead and gather the bulk of my stuff I think I left some food and I totally forgot my microwave. Oh well. I let him have the flat and as I guessed he would stay a couple months untill my rent ran out. Meanwhile I moved into another flat in the same compound. When i unpacked I couldnt find my vital documents birth cert, mairage license et al. all the stuff you need to get a new drivers license. Ted had stolen this folder out of a bag in the bottom of a box of computer equipment. I called the Police. Worthless, God damned bastards. We got some of my food, but no folder. Ted wouldn't consent to a search. I wouldnt either, but hey I wouldnt have stolen anyone's identifying documents. Who does that? and why me? That microwave would have come in handy, if i had rememberd it. It was only this huge ass 80 lb brown box occupying the entire counter top. Must have been stoned. ah well. The main thing is I was going to need that police report, because more than likely Ted Showacre aka Ted Shoemaker will try and defraud my worthless credit. So I go down to buy a print out of the report from the clerk. And guess what this guy, this worthless excuse for a badge no. 4669 Axel Goldman Never made a report. there were two cops but Goldman gave me his card. I called the police monitor and raised hell. Goldman filed an incident report the next day as though nothing happened. The report says nothing about why I called. Nothing about the folder of documents or Teds refusal to consent to a search. Absolutely worthless for defending myself from ID theft.
I know a lot of folks who would have beat him to death with a pipe. But i didnt and that should say something about my character. well really my ribs ... what ever.
Soon after all that, i
was having lunch with Jeffery at Taco Cabana. As is
our tradition we both had our laptops out trading
movies, p2p IRL stats, and this is just weird: Three
guys came in and sit at our table one skinny geek and
these two roided out drill sargents. They were
greying, but by no means inactive they had airborne
tats, they were huge. they had badges. At first the
encounter was intimidating. I had no idea why they sat
with us. I asked the guy about the badge and and he
said they were recovery agents doing K&R and
extraction for Lloyds. I looked at Jeffery and it
obviously didnt mean a thing to him. (that Don't know
Don't care ignorant glaze) he didn't have head phones
in but he might as well have. K&R means kidnap and
ransom, Extraction is what you call when you go in
guns a blaze and rescue POWs or in this case wealthy
kidnapped victims. Lloyds is a banking and insurance
outfit in London. These guys are no shit bag'em and
tag'em black ops free agents. So where angels fear to
tread, I went ahead and asked them if they were
involved in any human traffick with the zetas or
sinaloa cartels. And the guy said when and if they did
"we weren't there and we didn't see anything". Half
way through the meal the intimidation melted off.
Either they get to know me and realise I ain't half
bad, or my sociopathic Jedi powers had improved. I
figure who ever put them up to lean on me didn't pay
them much because these guys are all about the