Category Archives: Fascism

Protect Colorado Springs Home Grows

Protect Colorado Springs Home Grows by: Audrey Hatfield

How many registered cannabis patients do you think live in Colorado? How many refugees have given up their former lives to pack up and move here for access to medical cannabis? How many people in general utilize cannabis in some form or another in our state? There are approximately 108,000 registered cannabis patients and out of that many, how many of you have a clue as to what is happening in some city’s across Colorado regarding your rights as a cannabis patient? Very few.

Back in 2012 when the Amendment 64 campaign was rearing its ugly head, I was against it for several reasons. Not because I’m a selfish bitch that didn’t think everyone deserves access to cannabis, it was because, it was and is, a garbage piece of legislative prohibition, designed to benefit our government in the form of higher tax dollars, in disguise as “legalization.” We were all assured by 64 supporters that “medical would not be affected.” A64 was nothing but “legal lies” and too many people lapped it up as “progression” and “baby steps” towards “legalization.” “Regulation works,” “Regulate like alcohol.” Bullshit, all of it, as predicted! 

http://www.westword.com/news/marijuana-community-divide-on-amendment-64-deep-wide-often-nasty-5859203

  Let’s forget about Amendment 64 for a minute and before you chastise me for using the term “medical cannabis,” there is a difference. That difference is, Amendment 20 and those of us that rely on cannabis as our medicine. For us, it’s not about just “getting high.” And no, I don’t have anything against anyone that does. Cannabis should be available to us all, but not this way. Not thru Amendment 64.

 Right now, right under your noses we are slowly being made criminals once again. The MED is “recommending” to all jurisdictions to limit plant counts. One by one, city by city, slowly, Amendment 20 is being blown off by Colorado government officials, in part because of the fact that we have rec and rec generates more tax funds. You might think that it doesn’t matter because we “have A64”. But it does.

  In a recent article in local paper the “Gazette Telegraph,” Colorado Springs City Council proposed ordinance 16-52, on May 10, that was signed by Mayor John Suthers, just a few days after on May 13.

http://gazette.com/colorado-springs-mayor-day-of-reckoning-coming-for-citys-illegal-marijuana-growers/article/1577088 

In a nut shell, this ordinance (above,) is making it criminal to grow more than 12 plants per household without regard to the fact of ones plant count recommendation (Read above links). Yes, you heard it, it will be CRIMINAL! You will be a CRIMINAL, for exercising your rights under Amendment 20. Pay attention to what this will mean for patients here and eventually in the entire state.

https://coloradosprings.gov/sites/default/files/051016_personal_cultivation_ordinance_16-52.pdf

 Colorado Springs is a home rule municipality and basically what that means, is they can make their own rules. HOWEVER, when it comes to this situation they can not decide how many plants a patient is allowed to have! What the fuck? Why is this happening? Amendment 64. Why isn’t it being stopped? Greed and ignorance.

   All patients with higher plant counts will be affected, however, the patients that will be hurt the most are some of the many children whose parents moved here to treat their childrens rare illnesses with cannabis. Two of the families that will be affected and turned into criminals if arrested, will be Moms, Rebecca Lockwood and Marisa Kiser. Because of their childrens high plant counts and the negative impact it would have on their childrens health, Rebecca and Marisa, sprung into action. They decided to set up a meeting with City Council to get some answers and find compassion for all patients and spear headed an email campaign to Springs City Council.

  

Rebecca fears for the health and well-being of her child Calvin, as he has a plant count of 73 to treat his femoral retroversion, a debilitating abnormality, affecting the lower extremities.

http://www.aafp.org/afp/2003/0801/p461.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8OYxQq7mIE

 Marisa Kisers son Ezra, just turned 4 and went in hospice when he was just 3. He suffers from violent seizures and at one time, had an unexplained onset of dystonia so severe that he broke 8 bones in one year. He has a 72 plant count. These are just 2 of the families that will be affected by this bullshit. 


 It was in a May 31 meeting that the Moms were told by the council members in attendance that, “The limited plants counts are just the beginning, a ban will be placed on all home grows, not just here, but thru out the state.” This very phrase was confirmed the beginning of June from council members in a separate meeting between members of council and member Bridget Serrit, of the newly formed organization, Colorado Patient Rights Coalition

 108 million patients and only a handful of you are or have been getting involved with the blatant disregard of our rights. This is going to affect you! Understand what it means! Get off of your asses and stand up for yourselves or bow down to your rights being stepped on by our local politicians. We all need to come together in force and show them that this will not be tolerated! Coming together in numbers will have greater impact and that is what it will take. This WILL happen in your town next, you need to be aware and know your rights as a patient.

Whether you grow or not, what can you do? First, research and familiarize yourselves with Amendment 20 and any laws regarding medical access in Colorado. Send emails to your local government officials that are implementing these laws. Call and leave them a brief, yet detailed message. Stand up for your rights! If you are available during the day, attend any protest about the matter that you see being advertised. Protests are being set up right now in Colorado Springs in front of Mayor Suthers office in Colorado Springs, on a monthly basis. The organization also has started a petition that as patients, you should sign.

 https://www.facebook.com/events/266481020371172/

https://www.change.org/p/colorado-state-house-keep-it-legal-colorado

  If you have paperwork to support your plant count recommendation, continue to grow that plant count. If police come to your home, DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow them access inside your home without a search warrant. DO NOT speak to the police. Record audio if they are in your home or at your door. DO NOT be swayed by the scare tactics they will try to use to get you to take a plea deal if you are arrested. You can and will win your case! It has been done! Now more than ever, is the time to get involved! Strength in numbers! Stand up!

 http://www.westword.com/news/medical-marijuana-patient-bob-crouse-acquitted-another-wasteful-prosecution-5859198

http://www.dailycamera.com/boulder-county-news/ci_16965794

http://gazette.com/jury-returns-not-guilty-verdict-in-mmj-case/article/140056

Audrey Hatfield

Former Founder and President of C4CPR

Medical Cannabis Patient and Colorado Activist

Write to city council allcouncil@springsgov.com

Talking to Your Doctor, Support from Social Media, and Living Green in a Red State Part Deux

Talking to Your Doctor, Support from Social Media, and Living Green in a Red State Part Deux

By: Verde LoneOwl

2014-11-20 13.46 Verde Loneowl author pic edit z

When it was time to talk to the doctor about my decision to try the Cannabis Oil as a treatment for the “C” diagnosis was not sure how it would be accepted. Was so thankful that when we talked she told me many of her patients with HIV/AIDS  here in Texas are already using Cannabis Oil! As an Internist with a very large patient base from around the country I was so glad she was positive! Was laughing as I was leaving had to just turn and say “I wonder how much THC I have in me?” She smiled and said “I have those numbers.”  There have been many Urine tests.  Having a doctor who understands cannabis does no harm is a wonderful thing.  It is sad to read people who are trying to talk to the doctors about Cannabis Oil when the doctor’s are not encouraging Cannabis as a treatment option.  It’s not really the Doctor’s fault it is the “Lie” of Prohibition.

Medical students follow strict studies to become a Licensed Physician. Specialist’s are required even more stringent rules and studies. The problem is most of the “Drug Education” is provided by large pharmaceutical companies. This limits what the medical students are learning. This results in keeping American Doctor’s dumbed down. These are the Country’s brightest and best who are accepted into Medical School.

Another area where American doctors are falling behind is in Nutrition. From my understanding most Medical Schools only focus on limited numbers of Nutrition Courses required. So these learned persons do not learn about Nature or the benefit of food.  In the Bible Belt we have few.

Back to that strong Southern Baptist upbringing we learned “you are what you eat”.  My mother also said “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”. My mama was right but she did not know about Genetically Modified Food (GMO) Products are being fed to American’s. Those who are poor it is hard to get food that is not GMO.  Improper nutrition results in higher rates of Cancer and other serious illnesses on the residents of the South.

Southern States are used to doing what they have always done. The elected officials have used the lies, bigotry and fear mongering in the Media to sway the feelings of the people. It happened here when Reagan was running for President. The only thing is we have not changed since Reagan in the Southern Bible Belt. These traditions are deeply seeded in our ‘roots’.  Doing the same old things in the name of God. The South keeps Union’s out of the South. This keeps most of those living in the South ‘poor’. By spending less on Education and giving huge tax breaks to lure new business to the area they dumb down all children in the Public Education System.

What is really sad… is the fact they do all this hating of others in the name of God.  They talk about ‘Abortion is Murder’ yet when the children are born into poverty in Texas in 2011 was reaching 26% or 1 in 4 children in Texas are living at or below the poverty level. When the state refuses increase funding in Education the children suffer. Those children who are being taught in Private Schools have a better opportunity to advance to Higher Learning. Those children in Private School are not in Public Education.  The red voters think they are highly educated people who love God. That is why it is so hard for them to see the damage their actions are causing. The ‘white people’ do not even understand the premise of  ‘white privilege’.  There is no love in the hearts of those who hate others because the sins are different. Being a Southern Baptist we do not have different degrees of sin. A sin is a sin. One as bad as another.  We are no longer a giving loving people taking care of other human beings but are mean and angry if we must help those in need.

http://tfbn.org/rapid-reaction-poverty-in-texas-cities/

Texas spends an average of $8,998 per student this school year, 46th among the 50 states and the District of Columbia, a comparison by the National Education Association shows. That is well under the national average of $11,674.”  This is evidence of how the State of Texas is harming all the children in Public Education.  This is what is hurting Texas and it has been happening so many years in a row now it’s just the way it is.

http://www.dallasnews.com/news/education/headlines/20140325-texas-improves-school-funding-but-still-trails-most-states.ece

While educating myself I learned things which made me upset!  Finding out how Hemp and Cannabis was removed from American’s in 1937!!  Texas Lawmakers failed to provide safe access to the plant for 5 – 10 sessions or between 10 and 20 years.  As Texas only meets on odd years.  Change is  imperative for Texas as a pro-life issue.

People have been trying to get the ‘Word’ out but there seems to be a problem dispensing the information. People who ‘read’ ‘educate’  ‘question’ and do not just take what they throw us as crumbs, begin to gather information from various reliable sources. There is evidence of  Legislative items on file,  the Pharmacopoeia, and other government agency documents which could be requested under the Freedom of Information Act.  Books were read and written documenting these facts.   Would our government really do this?  Yes they will and yes they did!!! A whole bunch of Laws made totally on lies and continue today across America and the World based solely on Greed of certain men.

Activists who saw Personal Freedoms being illegal for no reason other than money began to write books … about this horrific coop made by the USA on its’ own citizens.  There is history of this in books and on the internet on the federal government web sites.  I try to use .0rg or .gov as reference sites in my education. There are many activists. There are also many crooks.  In the sixty’s we used to say ‘know your dealer’ same is true today.

Well, continuing in 2013 with doctor visits and having things frozen off … the last one was the worst and closest to my brain and spinal cord.  It was scary.  So would share going to the doctor and why on Facebook.  Coming home and waiting for the cancer to do what ever it was going to do … as I was not in the right Zip Code to do anything else. Texas Lawmakers failed to provide a Compassionate Cannabis Care Act for Texas in 2013.  There was a Committee Meeting in 2013 but those on the Committee were rude and made fun of those who were there to provide Testimony.

So here we are. Fixing to go into Texas next Legislative Session 2015.  We did not Turn Texas Blue.  We did not change the make up of the Lawmakers of Texas other than to add some more red ones.  Texas only meets every other year so Texas must Legislate in 2015 for us to have any relief.  Texas has had some kind of bill every session for over a decade.  2013 we got in Committee.  Some of the Committee members came to the witnesses and advocates who were at the Session and said they had no idea.

At the grass root level we are more organized for the 2015 Session. The DFW Norml chapter has Organized Poster Children for the DFW area.  We have 4 children who might benefit from Cannabis Oil.  These families are representing over 80 other families across Texas.  If you are in any state with out a Compassionate Cannabis Care Act please take the time to Contact your Elected Officials by phone, email or personal visit. Let them know there has been a tragic mistake made in 1937 and we should not put people in jail for a plant.  The law is a lie.

click here to find your representatives at the local and federal levels

Team Alexis is the group which represents the families recently announced a meeting is set with the new Speaker of the House for Texas Joe Straus along with  DFW Norml.  We all can see that a Compassionate Cannabis Care Act is being seriously considered for Texas 2015.  Bi-Centennial should be able to also introduce a full Legalization Bill for Texan’s as well!  No need for people to be flying to Denver, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco or Anchorage to partake of a plant substance. The Cannabis oil was used by the ancient cultures of the world with out a worry about a ‘high’. Do not fear the plant.  The law is a lie.

Texas passed no Compassionate Cannabis Care Act for Texans in 2013.  Yet I still longed for the Cannabis Oil to treat my Cancer my self.  I began to search the Internet for stories and people.  ‘Low and Behold’  I found someone with the same diagnosis as me!! I was thrilled!!!

Suddenly, I was in a Movement that I know nothing about except Cannabis is Medicine. Cannabis oil kills cancer cells. Cannabis oil is ILLEGAL.   Texas is certainly not the best place to be physically when you have Cancer and choose Cannabis Oil as an Alternative Treatment. There is no Safe Access.

You may recall from my previous entry that I became ill with pneumonia in 2010.  As I remember this is what happened….

Upper respiratory infections had always been part of my existence.  Nebulizers, Pro Air, AdvairSpiriva, Albuterol, Nasacort, the list goes on and on and on.  Breathing medication regularly prescribed by the ‘White Coat Pushers’ and there are many.  The boy and I had moved to our new home near the school. Was just the two of us here hubby was in Austin and came home on the week ends.

Was laying on the couch .. not sure of how many days I had been on the couch but it had been many. A friend dropped by to see me but stayed just a few minutes. Quick enough to say ‘You don’t look good’ then leave!! This alerted me that I might be sick.

Picking up my cell phone I sent the text message … “I think I might be sick”.  That was all I got in the message. I continued to remain on the couch.  Some time after dark he came in the back door.  Bless his heart I must have looked bad.  Quickly he said he would take me to hospital … explained I was not clean as I had not been able to shower and I could not go to a hospital so dirty.  So he allowed me to sleep here on the couch.

In the morning he went out side and got a plastic chair and put it in the shower.  He had to help me to the bathroom. He brought me something to tie up my hair.  Sitting in the white plastic chair he cleaned me up, dried and dressed me.  We got in the car and off to the hospital we went. I forgot to call my doctor and tell him we were on our way to the Emergency Room.

Getting to the hospital I do not really remember. The Emergency Room personnel were top notch. There was not question I was quite ill.  Off to Radiology and on fluids immediately.  They were so nice.  In  2 hospital gowns and was placed in a room.  Hubby was there with me.  Not sure of what they did but remember more than two bags were hanging numerous times.

Poor hubby … as I would come to this world would think of something that was not at the hospital. He was so sweet. He would go to Wal-Mart or Beall’s the only two choices then in the small town where the hospital is located and lovingly search for the item I thought I needed.

The boy was only 14 then and was worried something might happen to me. He has always been afraid he would loose me.  Hubby came home at night to fix him supper and return to the hospital after he went to school.  That way he was not alone.  The  hospital stay was 7 days before release.

Pneumonia, is physically draining.  Had no idea how little energy remained after that illness.  As a Chronic Fatigue, Fibromyalgia (for more information on fibromyalgia and cannabis click here), Lyme, and other syndrome since 1995 my immune system was compromised to say the least already. The Cancer diagnosis was already in place as well.

Hubby returned to Austin, the boy and I remained here at home.  He was 14 and the freezer was full of things he could cook for his self.  Had a good friend then named Bea and she helped care for me during this time.  Was well enough to move back to my bedroom and no longer on the living room couch.  Was thankful to have a caregiver during that difficult time in my life.

Being in your bed with 0 energy and still on antibiotics … my friend Bea introduced me to ‘Farmville’ by Zynga on Facebook.  Began playing the game on the computer while my body could do nothing else.  Hubby would call and ask ‘What are you doing?’ my answer ‘Petting chickens’.  As I write this now … it sound pretty silly to be petting chickens with a mouse on a computer screen … but I did play the game.

The recovery is long for Pneumonia.  As I healed I continued to play the games on Facebook to occupy my days and nights as my hubby was in Austin and I was here … at home.

The games continued and friends on the social network were made.  Anyone who uses a Social Network knows you get friends by getting to know one person … then you see other friends post and you like what they say or you agree you send a friend request.

Always, a Marijuana friendly person I began to make friends who were in the Movement sometime during 2013. That is when I knew about Cannabis Oil and Cancer and knew Texas Lawmakers had a Bill! 2013 everyone who is anyone knows Marijuana is Cannabis. Cannabis is Medicine.  Cannabis kills cancer cells.  USA has a patent.   That makes it pretty simple! The law is a lie. Texas Lawmakers would have the opportunity to change the laws in 2013!!

During these years when a skin lesion would appear would call the doctor, go in to the office, have it frozen and return home.  I did not keep the records of lesions but they did begin to come more often during 2012 -2013.  Would sling out ‘Going to doctor to have another one removed’ on the social media site each visit to the doctor.

Texas Bill stalled in Committee in 2013 with the gop Lawmakers laughing and making Cheech & Chong jokes while people were testifying.  It was not a happy time.  I could not understand how I knew about Cannabis as a medicine for 18 years in California as well as other states.  How could Texas Lawmakers not let Texan’s have this Cannabis Medicine?  How could Texas Lawmakers not understand that Cannabis has always been medicine?  The Lord they taught me about in Sunday School, also Anointed people with Oil.  How many times has a Religious leader used Holy Anointing Oil?  How could this be happening?  These Lawmakers were all ‘self proclaimed Believers’ but they could not believe in a plant given by God/Creator for the people of this planet?  How could this be?  It was making me doubt my own belief in God.  How could these people proclaim God in one breath yet be so full of hate? The hate continues today even worse than before.

All during 2013 I was posting how stupid the Texas Lawmakers were for Failing to provide Compassionate Cannabis Care Act for Texans.  Also, Texas had Battleground Texas a Political Effort by the Democratic Party to Turn Texas Blue in the November 2014 Elections. Facebook became a device for me to say things I would have never had the opportunity to say to anyone!  There was an audience.

Many Fear changes which are coming but those of us who understand are not afraid of Cannabis.  We anxiously await the Gift to us from God to not be an act that may result in a long long Prison Sentence. God intended for this plant to be used by all His creatures.

Unknown to me … as I am new to the Movement. There are people who are willing to risk Personal Freedom to help people who have been diagnosed with Cancer or other terminal disease, to receive free of cost Cannabis Oil.  This is done as people who can grow may not have use for the trim called ‘Sugar Leaf’.  This is the smaller leaves which are on the buds when the Cannabis Plant goes into Flower stage.  Many throw this part of the plant away.  It has many medicinal properties.

I am sitting at my laptop one day when someone sent me a message on Facebook.  Someone sent a Private Message to me on Facebook and said they had medicine for me!  I’m like ‘What I’m in Texas’!!  They said ‘You have cancer don’t you?’  Well yes I did … so now what happens?  A message comes across saying ‘It’s your Turn! All you need to do is join a Facebook group called Cannabis Oil Success Stories and tell your story there’.  That seemed pretty easy!

Having just had my worst experience ever with the last lesion I had frozen.  I did not know what to do.  I did give my full name, address and zip code to this person on Facebook.  I tell the Shiner ‘God Bless YOU!!’ The reply ‘I’m an Atheist but what ever makes you feel good.’  Just like that!  An Athiest was sending me free cannabis oil in Texas!!! Tears of joy ran down my face!!! How could I be so blessed?? Thanking God every day!!! Thank you God Thank you God Forgive them God they know not what they do!!! I was being given a gift of Cannabis Oil!!! An Atheist was giving me a gift from the ‘Tree of Life’.  The Texas Lawmakers have no idea what God is doing in this Movement.  Yes the Movement is full of people from all walks of life … doing what ever they can to bring this healing gift to all who are in need.  My belief is God is in control He sees us suffering.  God did not intend for us to be here and be unhappy or unkind.  ‘Be still and know I am God’.  That is one of the hardest for me always amazed when I see His works becoming evident.

It was the end of  January 2014.  Waiting … for the package to arrive.  Waiting for the package to arrive. The package took 8 working days to get to me!  Anxious to see what happens I tear into the package with anticipation. Dosing for Cancer I had already learned was 60 grams in 90 days for most cancers.  So  I knew how to dose and begin immediately!

Now came the time to tell my family about the ‘secret’ kept inside so many years.  The thing I had hidden from them so well.  I had to tell them why I must have the Cannabis Oil which is a Felony carrying a sentence of up to 99 years in my state. I never hid the fact I was a burner … smoking when ever I can.

Hubby is the one who is most concerned.  We both understand if they want me there is nothing he can do to protect me from the law.  Life as I know it could change.  Having been disabled and dependent since 1995 almost 20 years this is very frightening.  It’s not like burning a joint.  Texas has loosened up the flowers … under 4 oz can be a misdemeanor. Cannabis oil is not the same in Texas Law.  Asset Seizure is another concern for us.  The option to let the cancer continue doing what it is doing and die. Or choose to disobey a bad law.  A law I know is based on lies since 1937.

How can I not commit Civil Disobedience? I could no longer wait for the Law to change and live.  I had to treat or die.

I was on the West Coast  during an R&R in Nam.  I loved Huntington Beach, California during Nam … I’m sure I would love it today!!  It is a place on our planet you can stand on the ground and see mountains, Pacific Ocean and lovely landscape!! California was always the place for the Movers and Shakers.   It was the first time I saw a Mall with more than 1 level!!! Wow, bought an Orange Velvet Mini Dress!!  Was ready to have a blast!! Too bad I did not know about Cannabis it was alcohol for me then. 

Never having acquired a taste for alcohol … spent most of my evening walking on the beach at night talking with them.  They were all drinkers.  Beach House in Cali all night!  There were many of us there! I had ran into a girl friend from Junior High School.  She was living there and took me into the California night life. Staying with my Uncle Oscar Hook (Was at Pearl Harbor, my dad’s brother) and his wife Aunt Hera was a blast. There were a bit upset the 17 year old Texas  girl who stayed out all night.  We all know girls just wanna have fun til the sun comes up over Santa Monica Blvd.  California was wonderful and I enjoyed that trip in the late 60’s very very much.   A life memory BC (Before Children).  

 

 

Further articles by Verdeloneowl

Green Living In a Red State (part one)

Also Done With Mirrors

Friday, August 1, 2014

Also Done With Mirrors

Also Done With Mirrors

From The El Paso County Jail

hipgnosis_fractal

June 2014

In jail now for contempt of court, i can only hope that i will not be punished for thought, given my intent with this piece more or less to publicly scorn the same court and many of its agents represented here at the misnamed Criminal Justice Center of El Paso County. I will concentrate on this local example for specifics because of intimacy, but recent news and broad history supports my encouragement to the reader that (s)he extrapolate freely.

I’d almost rather sleep than pace around here like a tyger in a fucking zoo, but i am as i have been formed. I really don’t think you fuckers can make me sleep without some kind of assault. It’s possible a dispassionate observer might develop the notion that you can piss me off, so to speak, that you can make me blow my Zen, but no–that was i, and i’m over it already.

Here at the El Paso County Jail, called the “Criminal Justice Center,” uniforms abound and each, of course, conveys a message. All the prisoners are color coded. The deps and “specialists’ and nurses and “contractors” are all of a feather, some with fancier tails as it were, expressive of assorted specifics. Variation is for the most part strictly verboten, (sorry to misuse the language for such a purpose, T. You know what i mean.)

Prisoners are separated by severity of “crime,” degree of danger to self or others, and some by a certain degree of “privilege” (these are called “trusty”). Deputies are generally demarcated according to “authority.” Some have little shoulder insignia indicating rank, “honors,” or extreme pathology. “Civilians” in various “house nig…um…servant,” (ahem), positions bear yet further uniform garb, while certain haughty nabobs glide around in suits carrying clipboards, heads high, presumably to be the more able to reach the rarefied air that must sustain them with their pinched aquiline nostrils.

With irony that may or may not be intentional on someone or something’s part, the same uniforms described as so expressive also squelch some communication, which would be quite freely broadcast in ordinary circles. Certainly “club” colors are vigorously banned. Stuff like those placeholders for my ears. Some shit slips by: Many Department of Corrections guys, (prisoners), are recognizable by  “penitentiary” labels on personal clothing. Haircuts, though highly imperfect at clarity, often show fondness for  a martial life. The richest bearers of information of all apart from coded wristbands we wear under a pretty fair degree of duress are tattoos, freely and openly displayed by all but the besuited clipboard crowd.

The deputies have prevented me from wearing the little protective posts made of comb teeth i put in my ears, meant to keep the piercings from closing, as an experiment in boundaries, and as an expression of my identity; a bit of communication through appearance; silent aesthetic vocalization. One pleasant deputy said to me with great concern and chagrin in both his voice and his eyes, “Oh, no! This is terrible!” I asked him about his concern and he played it off as a joke; “Sarcasm.” But to me, “this”–that is, a bit of aesthetic experimentation that serves to announce my separation  from a society i find abhorrent–is a marvelous thing, rich in multifaceted, radiating, information-bearing emanations. We all do these things, and some of us then wonder why we are rejected by those for whom we define ourselves as Other by those choices of appearance we make of our own volition.

No one can do anything about skin color, for example, and we ought not make assessments about human beings that are based on unchangeables like that, but we do anyhow. And life probably works out to support those assessments. Whether the differences are real or not, when two segments of society conspire to call one another’s members hateful names, like “nigger,” or “cracker,” or “Palestinian,” or “Jew,” the intonation of Otherness establishes a state of polarity where the prophecies inherent in the expression all become true, eventually. That’s pretty crazy in itself. At The El Paso County Jail the most desperate of prisoners–the mixed-color-teal-and-yellow crowd–are garbed thusly so that they are easily recognizable as homicidal-suicidal. They seem to live a miserable existence, isolated from everyone because of mutual fear, from which font their own dreaded behavior springs. The nurses in the medical unit where many of these saddest of souls reside sometimes and apart from regulation wear colors so similar that i have been startled by the spectacle of those shades in unexpected places. But i have had conversations with EPCO jail employees that went something like, “You should find something to do that doesn’t eat your soul.” “Oh, I’m fine–I get home and just forgetaboutit. Turn it off,” with a motion like flipping a switch. “Do you really think partitioning your personality–your life–your Self–to that degree so you won’t flip out is healthy!!? Isn’t that exactly how ‘multiples’ work things?” So just who are the crazy ones?

Division by zero.

One deputy said to me, “Sixty to seventy percent of the cops in this town are just doing their jobs.” This is so multi-dimensionally wrong: Only a mental pathology allows a guy to perpetrate violence against an unwilling subject for a mundane paycheck that is derived in part from money confiscated from that very person being so victimized. This is deeply parasitic and also pretty fucking stupid in that biologically, the most successful parasite is one that works a symbiotic relationship with its host. The relationship of our government, (and virtually all governments), to its host our society is now and will soon prove to be catastrophically vitacidal. Meanwhile, what are the other forty percent doing? My estimation figures the best part of this minority is enjoying  the sanction of the same gullible society to be violent for pay and false “honor.” Some of these two groups are actually deluded to imagine they are helping people.

“Can’t break the rules just doin’ my job nothin’ personal behind that blow to the head gotta paycheck to collect gotta family to feed….”

Assuredly history’s most spectacularly egregious crimes, and lest any reader seeks to comfort himself with false abstraction, those of this very day, this very moment, have always been committed beneath the false flag of “The Rules.”

I’ve heard it said in the context of “appearances” that the men and women of “Gateway” “represent El Paso County,” so that they are not permitted to wear a Mohawk, (or i suppose, bits of comb in their ears). Now, be alert that i am not a Gateway man, exactly, but i am here because of appearances, at least in part. To be clear, i don’t represent El Paso County, by any means and i give but the merest of fucks for appearances. I represent some higher Thing, and not by my choice at all; but having been chosen for this  i serve my purpose while Judge Williams serves his. We are what we are, and what each of us represents is so far beyond El Paso County that i can’t see its apex from here and i suspect that Judge Williams has scarcely even apprehended its Its truth, having heard of these things only in forgotten dreams. I hope you aren’t hurt, dear Judge; these lots of ours are assigned, not chosen.

I certainly never meant to  cause you harm, or even pain, though i can’t deny i have been quite angry; far more at your system than at you, personally. It’s up to you how much grief will be in this for you, but: Fear not, sir; for as i have said, this is all perfectly safe, And again: We are in this together. All of us. Like it or not.

*Submitted with respect to those EPCO Schindlers who struggle daily to avoid division by zero. And i’ll have to talk more about Gateway, later.

House of Mirrors

From the El Paso County Jail. There may be glitches while i learn WordPress. http://hipgnosis21.blogspot.com/2014/07/of-mirrors-june-2014-el-paso-county.html

WEDNESDAY, JULY 23, 2014

House of Mirrors

House of Mirrors

26 June 2014

El Paso County Jail

Don’t freak out now, anyone. I’m still out of jail, pending appeal, as of today, 23 July 2014.

Sorry, no footnotes in the blogger. You can get them here
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1umk-RPyxoiQTPSS84Cp4sR80UAXFzsVRpuiRBVzrdNA/edit?usp=sharing

Pogo couldn’t have known the heft and resonance of his words: “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

I wrote a screed a while back, (Today’s Tom Sawyer), excoriating shitty Christian behavior. There’s still plenty to say about all that, and maybe some of it will come out here, but it’s not the point of this one. During that earlier rant, i promised to harp, eventually, about bad behavior on the part of pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, and some of my other natural affinity groups as well.

That isn’t it either. Or maybe it is. But not really. Not quite. I promised to write about the Fear, too, and nor is it that, though the Fear runs through it all. This is about a war.

Many members of of various of the groups on that funny little list i jotted just now recognize and will now openly state that there’s a war looming. They’re wrong about that much anyhow–the looming is all done and the fight is on. Right now. It’s been on for decades, (or maybe forever). I’m here “jotting” because that’s what one does in the county jail, where i am a political prisoner–a POW, really, though i prefer to think of myself as a prisoner of conscience–but maybe it’s a digression to say so. Or maybe not. Let’s explore this amalgam of notions a bit, and see if we can find out.

Here at the county jail one finds a  peculiarly refined microcosm of the way the dynamics of the variously conflicting groups involved in this bizarre  war interact, cleared of much of the dross of false civility that ordinarily circumvents the fight out on the sidewalk, at least here in the U.S.A.

I know Europeans here that want to skedaddle from this place and others afraid to come here because many of them can see the shitstorm brewing and it scares them. They often seem to see it more clearly than we Americans are able to do at least in part because our access to real news is barely over nil, of maybe because as outside observers they aren’t saddled with the cognitive dissonance we sorry brainwashed frogs that live in this hot-ass boiling lake must so often suffer. I don’t know. I hope they realize this pond holds us all.

Oddly enough, while the interactions at the county jail display some of the finer points of conflict in out absurdly labeled free society, they also show some reasons for hope. There are still lights burning.

“Fuck the Police!”

I don’t know how many times i’ve heard that phrase from some of my dearest friends. I’ve uttered them myself. Often. Sometimes at the top of my lungs. Sometimes it was far more personal: “Fuck you! That’s right, you, personally, whomever you may be in your opposition to me, my pursuits, my people. Maybe i should refer to the less common; “Fuck the Pigs,’ because the police are only a fractional representation of one segment, one camp of that particular overarching social entity the hippies were talking about when they began to disparage swine so badly as to label their opposition thusly in this odd existential war from whence the flesh and blood scrap derives.

“Battle lines are being drawn,” went the line from the Buffalo Springfield some fifty-ish years back. They’re pretty well drawn, now, though they resemble lines a three-year-old might scribble. The shit’s on. People are fighting. The skirmishes often feel like some kind of kids’ game though too, involving blindfolds and billyclubs. Maybe i can’t deny swinging a stick around myself, sometimes. Maybe that’swhat this is–a chance for me to look in the mirror a little, Maybe it’s because it’s hard to sit the game out when i keep getting hit in the head. Whatever. Let’s keep on through the maze and just hope we don’t smash too many mirrors.

During the Occupation we intrepids staged a few years back, (and some of us still engage–viva la revolución and all), my son and i traveled to Denver for the final push when the cops razed the encampment there. The scene that October of 2011 there in Denver was some shit this country hadn’t seen in over forty years maybe, where armored brigades of soldiers–not cops at all but stormtroopers–rolled on a huge, disparate group of unarmed citizens. It was tragic. And beautiful. Versions of the same scene played out all around the world that fall.

There at Civic Center Park, across the avenue from the State Capitol building, the Boy and i stood in the thick of it as those battle lines sharpened, and then blew apart as the whole outhouse hit the fan.

Some thousands of us had marched boisterously through Denver’s business district, pausing for a special visit at the Federal Reserve. After completing a wide loop around downtown we mounted the Capitol steps for whatever confrontation the Denver planners had planned. They, (to claim a thing–we), had been warned explicitly beforehand to stay off that particular edifice, so the moment we took the steps and began railing through one of our ubiquitous bullhorns, the shock teams appeared, as if the bearded-Spock Enterprise had beamed them to the scene.

Honestly, i was pretty fucking nervous at that point. It’s not as though i’d never been beaten up by the cops before, but that stuff is kind of a young man’s sport, and i was never really all that much a fan anyhow. Besides, those had always been cops, not armored sci-fi gladiators. But the main thing was the Boy. He was fifteen then and down for plenty, but he looked pretty worried too, and, (the mainthing, actually), i knew i’d never live through my next conversation with his mother if i allowed him to be beaten and busted by the police. I suggested we pull back to the park and we did, but i felt pretty spineless for having done it, really.

The Boy and i had a quick consult: “You see what this is going to be, right?” “Yeah.” “Are you down, or not?” Nervous but firm, “Yeah.” “Fuck it then…God damn it; your mom is gonna kill me. Let’s get some lunch.”

The park itself  was packed with crowds of Occupiers, some having returned with us from the march and probably harboring thoughts similar to mine. The encampment had been there for a good while by then, and the Black Flag Anarchists’ Free Kitchen was in full flight. It had already been dismantled more than once as a special preparatory project for the cops–kind of a warm-up. Knowing well what was coming, the no-nonsense scrappy men’n’women in black behind the table were all assholes with elbows, flying around in a frenzy with grim serious joy in their eyes as they did their level best to sling as much great tasting free food as possible before the inevitable hammer fell. Those guys were freaking awesome sauce with motherfuckin’ cherries on top!

Rather than spark an actual and possibly justifiable war on the Capitol steps, even the most radical and adrenaline-blinded of the group holding that position chose to retreat and quickly joined us at the park. The scene was oddly festive, with tents and art projects and folks dressed for carnival. The mid-autumn day was one of those beautiful Colorado Indian summer affairs with pristine blue skies through which flitted happy and blissfully oblivious birdies merrily on the lookout for delectable kitchen scraps. But wait! What the hey!!? The second the steps were abandoned and that contingent joined those meeker souls at the park, the rest of the cops in the danged known universe materialized in a huff and began setting up for some sort of paramilitary invasion. No shit–we all saw pretty quickly what the Denver PD had in mind for all those fun military vehicles and equipment they’d been collecting.

The scene changed dramatically there on the sidewalk where the Anarchists’ Kitchen was set up. There was plenty of action before then, but the top-gun radicals had been at the Capitol along with most of the cops. Now a phalanx quickly formed four deep with armored, shielded, armed, dangerous, implacable, and apparently stoically unflappable police stretching all around, up and down–all over the fucking place. Where the Boy and i stood a few sidewalk squares south of the Kitchen the scene was still like a carnival spreading away and outward into the park in every direction save the east, buy more like something Ray Bradbury or John Clifford might have dreamt up. Moving east to west one would have passed through four rows of cops in a formation that i’d only seen before in movies about Fascist  takeovers where American patriots saved the day by vanquishing some identically clad and positioned foe as we occupiers faced that day, armored only with our damn-the-torpedoes ethical certitude. Stepping by the entrenched police if one were to dare it, one would have passed a modest tree lawn, an ordinary sidewalk crowded with dark festival-goers, and could then step up to the folding table that served as the Anarchists’ ordering counter and serving table set up facing east from the immediate western line of the sidewalk across from the antiMayberry lines facing the stubbornly unaltered scene in the Kitchen.

The cops just stood there for what seems to memory like hours, but it couldn’t have been all afternoon or anything. Maybe so. The Boy and i milled around a bit getting a look at the overall scene and scoping out the various sections of the park. Behind the Kitchen to the west were the bulk of the tents, say a hundred or more, though others were scattered about. Further  west a concrete round with maybe a fountain or something hosted a bunch of info tables, some artsy hippies working on various projects, a triage setup, some chanting Hare Krishnas. More cops surrounded the camp, even more moved to close off the farthest reaches of the west side, We all saw we were utterly circumscribed and our physical position was hopeless. There was plenty of Hope, mind you, but all of it founded on our spiritual position, see.

As we awaited  what everyone knew to be inexorable, not so many of us remained quiet, (by “us” i mean Occupiers here; the most visible government employees were silent). I did mostly, and so did the Boy, he for his reasons and i for mine. The whole scene produced its own racket, but the most noticeable volume arose from the collection of spirit-moved Occupiers working the lines of eerily insensate gendarmes. Each was moved by his or her own personal spirit, few of which were very friendly toward the collective juggernaut we faced. More than one strode frenetically up and down whichever line was convenient  hurling f-bombs and spittle with as much force as he could muster. You know: “Fuck the Police!!!” and,“Fuck Yoooou!!!” from distances as close as the collected officers’ gear would allow. The pointillistic rows of cops, each in his own world, stared into space, eyes forward and directed at some Unknown, refusing eye contact. Only God and each man in his solitude knew what blackness filled his vision, (and possibly anyone operating one of those guv’mint mind-reading gizmos, if you’re into that sort of thinking).

Sensibly, few of the “non-violent” protesters were mad–that is crazy–enough to attempt to get physical. Those that did were promptly stomped, smashed and removed from the game. Otherwise with many pushing the envelope right to its most extreme limit, the arms-down-and-rigid-face forward-inches-from-any-nearest-random-cop’s-shielded-face stance of extreme and barely checked agitation rapidly became familiar. I for one was amazed at the extraordinary and rather creepy restraint the beleaguered police were displaying, though few shield-screened eyes could keep from betraying internal turmoil. Virtually none of the cops would assent to eye contact.

As this scene played itself out, a few Occupiers attempted to convince their fellows to mellow. In the midst of the very front and most electrical line of all this, there in front of the aforementioned Kitchen, one lone Occupier was working the line of gear-laden men, moved by a different spirit indeed. He was preaching it, baby. Pleading. Begging. Beseeching. As near to tears as i am now as this scene spills its way from my fingertips, fluid in his expressive motion to and fro as any practiced Sunday morning crowd-pleaser can i get a amen. “Don’t you see it? You are us! We are you! Please, stop this! We are one–we must stop fighting!” And in some brilliant, divinely inspired voice, “Lay down your shields! Join us! Put down your clubs and have some lunch!”

And then …right there in front of the Boy and me…with the scene in the actual Kitchen production area behind the table unchanged from before the lines formed…one of them did exactly that.

There was actually a fat queue at the Kitchen counter that parted like the Red Sea, astonished, for this newborn brother of ours to step up and claim his serving. He ate his food in silence and retook his spot in that other line which remained unaltered as his fellows stood unmoved, apparently in both senses. The Boy and i collected our portion of genuinely bomb-ass risotto and began to  eat with more on our minds than i can possibly describe. Before we were half through our plates the order came and we found ourselves dining amidst a police riot, our rice flavored by tear gas. (I got off the hook before, when the story remained vague. I suppose his mom is going to kill me now, after all).

The rest of the action went down as one would expect, with ample blood, outrage, and pepper-bullet injury and indignity and tears and drama. It was all on the news, with much expansion available on YouTube. You can look it up. None of that is the point.

I heard that one cop was fired perfunctorily that night.

We were there. Right fucking there. It really happened. It was so surreal i almost have to ask the Boy if it actually wasn’t some kind of dream.

Those two guys, though. That cop! When we all do what he did, just maybe then the war will be over. He looked up  and noticed he was looking in the fucking mirror.

The thing about all this is that the crowd of Occupiers was a full-on quorum of average joes with representation across several spectra. There were Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, Democrats, hippies, neo-hippies, and chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas, The cops were disguised as an invading foreign force but we all know they were really just a bunch of Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, and Democrats. The only groups lacking representation really were the hippies and the chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas that stayed with the rest of us till late into the night serving free food as a replacement for the Anarchists who had been quite the hell shut down. Oh yeah–there likely weren’t too many Anarchists on the cops’ side of the lines. I’m pretty sure  those differences are significant. Maybe the cops would be better if they got some of those groups they were missing. The janglier the better.

Back here at the county jail where i’m still Occupying, there’s lots of conflict, though not nearly so boiling hot. The old standby, “Fuck the Police,” is scrawled or carved around and about and plenty of folks on either side of whatever line each has drawn are fully prepared to swing  clubs at one another. Many of the sheriff’s deputies and sad, paycheck-to paycheck “detention specialists” are happy to evoke a very dark spirit indeed in their efforts to control us inmates who represent Other to them. I have been struck by the observation that these obnoxious fucks are the respected  representatives of a society that so many of our deluded citizenry expect us of the criminal class to emulate.

Ha! I may be an asshole myself, but no thanks: I have no interest in joining your obnoxious and shitty club.

Meanwhile, virtually all of us prisoners, including myself sometimes, react…”Grumble grumble fuck the police why i oughtta etc. etc. ad nauseum” Various of us slink around and steal or fight among ourselves or in general practice a sort of blindfolded subservience to Self. (Marco! Polo!…Ouch! Motherfucker!!!). We’re fucking obnoxious. We want the cops and the guards and judges and bankers and presidents to act differently but…why would they want to join our obnoxious and shitty club? When they do we wind up with a spectacular clusterfuck like the found at the Denver county jail last month, where a dep was helping a banger sling dope and administer beat-downs. Happens all the time. In every kaleidoscopic variation you can imagine.

Pogo couldn’t have known the heft and resonance of his words: “ We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

I wrote a screed a while back, (Today’s Tom Sawyer), excoriating shitty Christian behavior. There’s still plenty to say about all that, and maybe some of it will come out here, but it’s not the point of this one. During that earlier rant, i promised to harp, eventually, about bad behavior on the part of pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, and some of my other natural affinity groups as well.

That isn’t it either. Or maybe it is. But not really. Not quite. I promised to write about the Fear, too, and nor is it that, though the Fear runs through it all. This is about a war.

Many members of of various of the groups on that funny little list i jotted just now recognize and will now openly state that there’s a war looming. They’re wrong about that much anyhow–the looming is all done and the fight is on. Right now. It’s been on for decades, (or maybe forever). I’m here “jotting” because that’s what one does in the county jail, where i am a political prisoner–a POW, really, though i prefer to think of myself as a prisoner of conscience–but maybe it’s a digression to say so. Or maybe not. Let’s explore this amalgam of notions a bit, and see if we can find out.

Here at the county jail one finds a  peculiarly refined microcosm of the way the dynamics of the variously conflicting groups involved in this bizarre  war interact, cleared of much of the dross of false civility that ordinarily circumvents the fight out on the sidewalk, at least here in the U.S.A.

I know Europeans here that want to skedaddle from this place and others afraid to come here because many of them can see the shitstorm brewing and it scares them. They often seem to see it more clearly than we Americans are able to do at least in part because our access to real news is barely over nil, of maybe because as outside observers they aren’t saddled with the cognitive dissonance we sorry brainwashed frogs that live in this hot-ass boiling lake must so often suffer. I don’t know. I hope they realize this pond holds us all.

Oddly enough, while the interactions at the county jail display some of the finer points of conflict in out absurdly labeled free society, they also show some reasons for hope. There are still lights burning.

“Fuck the Police!”

I don’t know how many times i’ve heard that phrase from some of my dearest friends. I’ve uttered them myself. Often. Sometimes at the top of my lungs. Sometimes it was far more personal: “Fuck you! That’s right, you, personally, whomever you may be in your opposition to me, my pursuits, my people. Maybe i should refer to the less common; “Fuck the Pigs,’ because the police are only a fractional representation of one segment, one camp of that particular overarching social entity the hippies were talking about when they began to disparage swine so badly as to label their opposition thusly in this odd existential war from whence the flesh and blood scrap derives.

“Battle lines are being drawn,” went the line from the Buffalo Springfield some fifty-ish years back. They’re pretty well drawn, now, though they resemble lines a three-year-old might scribble. The shit’s on. People are fighting. The skirmishes often feel like some kind of kids’ game though too, involving blindfolds and billyclubs. Maybe i can’t deny swinging a stick around myself, sometimes. Maybe that’swhat this is–a chance for me to look in the mirror a little, Maybe it’s because it’s hard to sit the game out when i keep getting hit in the head. Whatever. Let’s keep on through the maze and just hope we don’t smash too many mirrors.

During the Occupation we intrepids staged a few years back, (and some of us still engage–viva la revolución and all), my son and i traveled to Denver for the final push when the cops razed the encampment there. The scene that October of 2011 there in Denver was some shit this country hadn’t seen in over forty years maybe, where armored brigades of soldiers–not cops at all but stormtroopers–rolled on a huge, disparate group of unarmed citizens. It was tragic. And beautiful. Versions of the same scene played out all around the world that fall.

There at Civic Center Park, across the avenue from the State Capitol building, the Boy and i stood in the thick of it as those battle lines sharpened, and then blew apart as the whole outhouse hit the fan.

Some thousands of us had marched boisterously through Denver’s business district, pausing for a special visit at the Federal Reserve. After completing a wide loop around downtown we mounted the Capitol steps for whatever confrontation the Denver planners had planned. They, (to claim a thing–we), had been warned explicitly beforehand to stay off that particular edifice, so the moment we took the steps and began railing through one of our ubiquitous bullhorns, the shock teams appeared, as if the bearded-Spock Enterprise had beamed them to the scene.

Honestly, i was pretty fucking nervous at that point. It’s not as though i’d never been beaten up by the cops before, but that stuff is kind of a young man’s sport, and i was never really all that much a fan anyhow. Besides, those had always been cops, not armored sci-fi gladiators. But the main thing was the Boy. He was fifteen then and down for plenty, but he looked pretty worried too, and, (the mainthing, actually), i knew i’d never live through my next conversation with his mother if i allowed him to be beaten and busted by the police. I suggested we pull back to the park and we did, but i felt pretty spineless for having done it, really.

The Boy and i had a quick consult: “You see what this is going to be, right?” “Yeah.” “Are you down, or not?” Nervous but firm, “Yeah.” “Fuck it then…God damn it; your mom is gonna kill me. Let’s get some lunch.”

The park itself  was packed with crowds of Occupiers, some having returned with us from the march and probably harboring thoughts similar to mine. The encampment had been there for a good while by then, and the Black Flag Anarchists’ Free Kitchen was in full flight. It had already been dismantled more than once as a special preparatory project for the cops–kind of a warm-up. Knowing well what was coming, the no-nonsense scrappy men’n’women in black behind the table were all assholes with elbows, flying around in a frenzy with grim serious joy in their eyes as they did their level best to sling as much great tasting free food as possible before the inevitable hammer fell. Those guys were freaking awesome sauce with motherfuckin’ cherries on top!

Rather than spark an actual and possibly justifiable war on the Capitol steps, even the most radical and adrenaline-blinded of the group holding that position chose to retreat and quickly joined us at the park. The scene was oddly festive, with tents and art projects and folks dressed for carnival. The mid-autumn day was one of those beautiful Colorado Indian summer affairs with pristine blue skies through which flitted happy and blissfully oblivious birdies merrily on the lookout for delectable kitchen scraps. But wait! What the hey!!? The second the steps were abandoned and that contingent joined those meeker souls at the park, the rest of the cops in the danged known universe materialized in a huff and began setting up for some sort of paramilitary invasion. No shit–we all saw pretty quickly what the Denver PD had in mind for all those fun military vehicles and equipment they’d been collecting.

The scene changed dramatically there on the sidewalk where the Anarchists’ Kitchen was set up. There was plenty of action before then, but the top-gun radicals had been at the Capitol along with most of the cops. Now a phalanx quickly formed four deep with armored, shielded, armed, dangerous, implacable, and apparently stoically unflappable police stretching all around, up and down–all over the fucking place. Where the Boy and i stood a few sidewalk squares south of the Kitchen the scene was still like a carnival spreading away and outward into the park in every direction save the east, buy more like something Ray Bradbury or John Clifford might have dreamt up. Moving east to west one would have passed through four rows of cops in a formation that i’d only seen before in movies about Fascist  takeovers where American patriots saved the day by vanquishing some identically clad and positioned foe as we occupiers faced that day, armored only with our damn-the-torpedoes ethical certitude. Stepping by the entrenched police if one were to dare it, one would have passed a modest tree lawn, an ordinary sidewalk crowded with dark festival-goers, and could then step up to the folding table that served as the Anarchists’ ordering counter and serving table set up facing east from the immediate western line of the sidewalk across from the antiMayberry lines facing the stubbornly unaltered scene in the Kitchen.

The cops just stood there for what seems to memory like hours, but it couldn’t have been all afternoon or anything. Maybe so. The Boy and i milled around a bit getting a look at the overall scene and scoping out the various sections of the park. Behind the Kitchen to the west were the bulk of the tents, say a hundred or more, though others were scattered about. Further  west a concrete round with maybe a fountain or something hosted a bunch of info tables, some artsy hippies working on various projects, a triage setup, some chanting Hare Krishnas. More cops surrounded the camp, even more moved to close off the farthest reaches of the west side, We all saw we were utterly circumscribed and our physical position was hopeless. There was plenty of Hope, mind you, but all of it founded on our spiritual position, see.

As we awaited  what everyone knew to be inexorable, not so many of us remained quiet, (by “us” i mean Occupiers here; the most visible government employees were silent). I did mostly, and so did the Boy, he for his reasons and i for mine. The whole scene produced its own racket, but the most noticeable volume arose from the collection of spirit-moved Occupiers working the lines of eerily insensate gendarmes. Each was moved by his or her own personal spirit, few of which were very friendly toward the collective juggernaut we faced. More than one strode frenetically up and down whichever line was convenient  hurling f-bombs and spittle with as much force as he could muster. You know: “Fuck the Police!!!” and,“Fuck Yoooou!!!” from distances as close as the collected officers’ gear would allow. The pointillistic rows of cops, each in his own world, stared into space, eyes forward and directed at some Unknown, refusing eye contact. Only God and each man in his solitude knew what blackness filled his vision, (and possibly anyone operating one of those guv’mint mind-reading gizmos, if you’re into that sort of thinking).

Sensibly, few of the “non-violent” protesters were mad–that is crazy–enough to attempt to get physical. Those that did were promptly stomped, smashed and removed from the game. Otherwise with many pushing the envelope right to its most extreme limit, the arms-down-and-rigid-face forward-inches-from-any-nearest-random-cop’s-shielded-face stance of extreme and barely checked agitation rapidly became familiar. I for one was amazed at the extraordinary and rather creepy restraint the beleaguered police were displaying, though few shield-screened eyes could keep from betraying internal turmoil. Virtually none of the cops would assent to eye contact.

As this scene played itself out, a few Occupiers attempted to convince their fellows to mellow. In the midst of the very front and most electrical line of all this, there in front of the aforementioned Kitchen, one lone Occupier was working the line of gear-laden men, moved by a different spirit indeed. He was preaching it, baby. Pleading. Begging. Beseeching. As near to tears as i am now as this scene spills its way from my fingertips, fluid in his expressive motion to and fro as any practiced Sunday morning crowd-pleaser can i get a amen. “Don’t you see it? You are us! We are you! Please, stop this! We are one–we must stop fighting!” And in some brilliant, divinely inspired voice, “Lay down your shields! Join us! Put down your clubs and have some lunch!”

And then …right there in front of the Boy and me…with the scene in the actual Kitchen production area behind the table unchanged from before the lines formed…one of them did exactly that.

There was actually a fat queue at the Kitchen counter that parted like the Red Sea, astonished, for this newborn brother of ours to step up and claim his serving. He ate his food in silence and retook his spot in that other line which remained unaltered as his fellows stood unmoved, apparently in both senses. The Boy and i collected our portion of genuinely bomb-ass risotto and began to  eat with more on our minds than i can possibly describe. Before we were half through our plates the order came and we found ourselves dining amidst a police riot, our rice flavored by tear gas. (I got off the hook before, when the story remained vague. I suppose his mom is going to kill me now, after all).

The rest of the action went down as one would expect, with ample blood, outrage, and pepper-bullet injury and indignity and tears and drama. It was all on the news, with much expansion available on YouTube. You can look it up. None of that is the point.

I heard that one cop was fired perfunctorily that night.

We were there. Right fucking there. It really happened. It was so surreal i almost have to ask the Boy if it actually wasn’t some kind of dream.

Those two guys, though. That cop! When we all do what he did, just maybe then the war will be over. He looked up  and noticed he was looking in the fucking mirror.

The thing about all this is that the crowd of Occupiers was a full-on quorum of average joes with representation across several spectra. There were Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, Democrats, hippies, neo-hippies, and chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas, The cops were disguised as an invading foreign force but we all know they were really just a bunch of Christians, pagans, dope fiends, felons, bikers, disgruntled employees, GIs, vets, blue-collar Barney Rubbles, Republicans, and Democrats. The only groups lacking representation really were the hippies and the chanting, jangling Hare Krishnas that stayed with the rest of us till late into the night serving free food as a replacement for the Anarchists who had been quite the hell shut down. Oh yeah–there likely weren’t too many Anarchists on the cops’ side of the lines. I’m pretty sure  those differences are significant. Maybe the cops would be better if they got some of those groups they were missing. The janglier the better.

Back here at the county jail where i’m still Occupying, there’s lots of conflict, though not nearly so boiling hot. The old standby, “Fuck the Police,” is scrawled or carved around and about and plenty of folks on either side of whatever line each has drawn are fully prepared to swing  clubs at one another. Many of the sheriff’s deputies and sad, paycheck-to paycheck “detention specialists” are happy to evoke a very dark spirit indeed in their efforts to control us inmates who represent Other to them. I have been struck by the observation that these obnoxious fucks are the respected  representatives of a society that so many of our deluded citizenry expect us of the criminal class to emulate.

Ha! I may be an asshole myself, but no thanks: I have no interest in joining your obnoxious and shitty club.

Meanwhile, virtually all of us prisoners, including myself sometimes, react…”Grumble grumble fuck the police why i oughtta etc. etc. ad nauseum” Various of us slink around and steal or fight among ourselves or in general practice a sort of blindfolded subservience to Self. (Marco! Polo!…Ouch! Motherfucker!!!). We’re fucking obnoxious. We want the cops and the guards and judges and bankers and presidents to act differently but…why would they want to join our obnoxious and shitty club? When they do we wind up with a spectacular clusterfuck like the found at the Denver county jail last month, where a dep was helping a banger sling dope and administer beat-downs. Happens all the time. In every kaleidoscopic variation you can imagine.

Sorry, reader; a glitch is preventing the end of this from displaying just now. I’ll fix it, but meanwhile, this link is better for the footnotes anyway. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1umk-RPyxoiQTPSS84Cp4sR80UAXFzsVRpuiRBVzrdNA/edit?usp=sharing

Although those of you that have read or will now read the other stuff here on hipgnosis will easily recognize the common ground that one may imagine stands to be found on the lawns inside the moats of our adjacent castles in a neighborhood full of loons, all built on air, i am deeply indebted to Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason for some of the truly fine and beautiful language i snatched more or less wholesale to help me build the last four paragraphs here. Even though their book,The Rule of Four is a best-seller of a popular genre, i highly recommend it as the best book i’ve read produced during the twenty-first century. I wish i had written it myself, (while noting the title of this piece). Everyone should read this book.

POSTED BY STEVE BASS AT 9:45 PM

Homeless Colorado Springs man emboldened by Occupy effort appeals jail time

from the Colorado Springs Gazette

http://gazette.com/article/1534440

By Jakob Rodgers Updated: July 28, 2014 at 2:07 pm

Nearly three years ago, Steven Bass’ tent led to a police ticket – a ticket that led to a trial, an appeal denied and 160-day sentence in El Paso County jail.

Bass, the first person cited under Colorado Springs’ camping ban, remains mired in a legal battle backed by a University of Denver assistant professor working for free.

He represents a small segment of the homeless issue – a man on a personal crusade against the camping ban emboldened by the Occupy Colorado Springs movement. His case is not emblematic of others who have been cited for camping on public property; rather, it is more of an outlier.

While people ticketed for camping typically include the chronically homeless – people whose only home is a tent, and who often rebuff police officers’ offers of secure housing – Bass wants to make a point.

Right now, he is free while appealing the jail time. Bass lives with a fellow veteran of the Occupy movement and blogs occasionally on what he sees as injustices in the world.

“I contend now that this thing has burgeoned well beyond the camping ban itself, and has now become a giant discussion of principle, and just what the hell we’re doing here in the United States of America, and the whole world,” Bass said.

Police issued the ticket in October 2011 when he pitched a tent on a sidewalk in Acacia Park, despite warnings from police that doing so would lead to a citation.

For Bass, the ticket and the Occupy gathering proved an opportune time for a stand against the city’s camping ban – an ordinance passed by the City Council in 2010 that outlawed camping on public land. He said he has volunteered at soup kitchens and for other homeless services for about 30 years, and he lives homeless – usually by couch surfing.

“Just because they don’t have any money, poof, they are made criminals,” Bass said of people affected by the ban.

Eleven tickets have been issued under the ban through June 5, with the majority coming in 2014, according to the Colorado Springs Police Department.

The ban came as camps swelled along Monument and Fountain creeks amid the Great Recession in 2009 and early 2010. So many people lived there that bystanders dropped off donated food and clothing along the creek beds – philanthropy that proved overwhelming to the point of concern, some homeless advocates say. Sanitation issues also arose.

City Council member Jan Martin said she voted for the ordinance for the safety of people using creekside trails, along with concerns about the image that such tent cities would create for the city, she said Friday. Proponents of the ban said it is a tool to get people into more stable housing.

“In my opinion, it’s not a matter of out of sight, out of mind,” Martin said. “It’s just trying to find resources that can help people get back on their feet.”

Because of Bass’ indigent status, a judge decided against a fine in favor of a 60-hour community service sentence for the citation.

Bass said he almost did it – he planned on helping Pikes Peak Habitat for Humanity – until a DU professor offered to help. With the pro bono advice of Christopher Lasch, who teaches at the university’s Criminal Defense Clinic, Bass appealed the case.

A district court judge upheld the municipal court’s decision – a blow to the notion that the ban is unjust.

A subsequent appeal to the Colorado Supreme Court was denied in March, said Rob McCallum, spokesman for the Colorado Judicial Branch.

Through it all, Bass contemplated his 60-hour of community service sentence. And in an April hearing before Municipal Judge Spottswood W. H. Williams, Bass said he will never complete the requirement.

Identifying himself as an Occupier, Bass wrote to Williams that the camping ordinance is “effectively status-based incarceration,” because forcing people into shelters could be another form of incarceration. He also said he already does community service but railed against the court forcing him to do so.

“Therefore, i (sic) am here in front of you forcing your hand,” he wrote. “You must now either acknowledge the ethical poverty of the ordinance, or prove my point.”

In June, Williams answered Bass’ statement with a 160-day jail sentence for contempt of court.

Bass is appealing that sentence with Lasch’s help after having served more than a month in El Paso County jail.

Lasch said the jail sentence was excessive because jail time for failing to pay a fine is usually half of what Bass has served.

Even if he serves all 160 days, Bass has no plans of completing the 60-hour community service order – a requirement that remains.

Lasch wants all of it thrown out.

“The fact that the government would go to such lengths to punish this activity certainly supports Steve’s position that this (ban) effectively punishes being homeless,” Lasch said.

“In this case, it certainly punished him for speaking out against the ban.”

Contact Jakob Rodgers: 476-1654

Twitter @JakobRodgers

Facebook: Jakob.Rodgers

Read more at http://gazette.com/homeless-colorado-springs-man-emboldened-by-occupy-effort-appeals-jail-time/article/1534440#TIqUcdEm4KE8udlJ.99

Amish Kid forced on Chemo: What’s the Matter Here? and Why the cannabis community should care!

Court Sides With Ohio Hospital on Amish Girl Care

August 28, 2013 (AP)
By JOHN SEEWER Associated Press

An appeals court has sided with a hospital that wants to force a 10-year-old Amish girl to resume chemotherapy after her parents decided to stop the treatments.

The court ruled that a county judge must reconsider his decision that blocked Akron Children’s Hospital‘s attempt to give an attorney who’s also a registered nurse limited guardianship over Sarah Hershberger and the power to make medical decisions for her.

The hospital believes Sarah’s leukemia is very treatable but says she will die without chemotherapy.

The judge in Medina County in northeast Ohio had ruled in July that Sarah’s parents had the right to make medical decisions for her.

The appeals court ruling issued Tuesday said the judge failed to consider whether appointing a guardian would be in the girl’s best interest. It also disagreed with the judge’s decision that said he could only transfer guardianship if the parents were found unfit.

The family’s attorney, John Oberholtzer, said Wednesday that the ruling essentially ordered the judge to disregard the rights of the parents.

Andy Hershberger, the girl’s father, said the family agreed to begin two years of treatments for Sarah last spring but stopped a second round of chemotherapy in June because it was making her extremely sick.

“It put her down for two days. She was not like her normal self,” he said. “We just thought we cannot do this to her.”

Sarah begged her parents to stop the chemotherapy and they agreed after a great deal of prayer, Hershberger said. The family, members of an insular Amish community, shuns many facets of modern life and is deeply religious. They live on a farm and operate a produce stand near the village of Spencer in Medina County, about 35 miles southwest of Cleveland.

“Our belief is, to a certain extent, we can use modern medicine, but at some times we have to stop it and do something else,” Hershberger said in a telephone interview.

They opted to consult with a wellness center and treat Sarah with natural medicines, such as herbs and vitamins, and see another doctor who is monitoring their daughter, Hershberger said.

“We see her every day. We watch her really close,” her father said. “She runs, plays. She crawls up ladders. She’s got a lot of energy, more than she had when she was doing chemo.”

Hershberger said they have not ruled out returning to Akron Children’s Hospital if Sarah’s health worsens. “We told them if it gets to the point that we cannot do anything for her, we would come back,” he said.

After the appeals court decision, the hospital said in a statement Wednesday that its goal is to ensure that the girl receives the most appropriate care based on scientific evidence and added that the allegation has never been about “parental unfitness.”

It said neither the hospital nor anyone else is requesting legal or physical custody of the child; instead, the hospital said, this case “involves a disagreement between providers and parents over what course of treatment is best for their child.”

Robert McGregor, the hospital’s chief medical officer, said last week that it is morally and legally obligated to make sure the girl receives proper care.

He said the girl’s illness — lymphoblastic lymphoma — is an aggressive form of non-Hodgkin lymphoma, but there is a five-year survival rate of 85 percent if she continues treatment.

Some of the girl’s tumors had gone away after the first round of chemotherapy, but she isn’t yet in remission, the hospital said.

“We really have to advocate for what we believe is in the best interest of the child,” McGregor said last week.

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retrieved from http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/court-sides-ohio-hospital-amish-girl-care-20094478 on 09/03/2013 17:00 MDT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, Why should the cannabis world care?

We as cannabis activists and as religious rights activists need to care about this case…. If this Amish family cannot follow the laws of their own religion regarding medical treatment, then we as cannabis activists need to side with the parents… this is no different than a parent making ia choice to treat the child with cannabis. their choice happens to be prayer. THEY HAVE THAT RIGHT IN MY OPINION.

Forget my opinion! These parents 1st amendment right is being trampled….

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

I wonder if the state of Ohio remembers this little bit of freedom we are all taught to love.

if we sit by and let it be trampled, our cannabis kids are next… and we are already seeing examples of it… In our own backyards with horrifying results.Did the parents choose out of fear to begin chemo? yes they broke their own traditions and took her to start chemo of their own free will… when it was making her so sick and the parents and child wanted to return to their beliefs is when the fight started. now, like some cannabis kids… she is in foster care… no fair!

I was a kid with cancer in the foster care system… had to go before the judge about chemo…. the facility i was in said i was having a suicide attempt by refusing chemotherapy.  i am so glad Judge Regina Walters sided with my choice to decline chemotherapy.

If doctors were perfect, they wouldn’t practice medicine on people they expect to have patience to the point of calling them that as if it was a magic term that made us willing to wait an eternity to be graced by their practicing.

Now, back to this child…. imagine this poor Amish kid not yet old enough to choose if she wishes to join the religion or not (the rite of Rumspringa )
and who knows little outside of the people her parents have allowed around previously…. All of the sudden she is plunged into the evils of foster care? i feel so sorry for her… and all she wants to do is make the same choice i did… to eat the best foods she can, be nurtured by those around her and pray.

When it is a situation that is life and death. Why should the government have so much of a say. The individual with the cancer or illness should be the one to decide how to go about fighting for their life. It is family, friends and the creator ‘s place to guide that individual through the fight.

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Toddler Killed By Foster Mom, After Being Taken From Peaceful Birth Parents For Their Cannabis Use

112

In Round Rock, Texas, the daughter of two peaceful young parents, was kidnapped by the state, after they admitted to someone that they smoke a small amount of cannabis at night. Sadly, the parents never got their daughter back, as her foster mother inflicted blunt force trauma to the toddler’s brain, putting her into a coma. Two days later the toddler, Alexandria Hill, died.

cps

Photo: Screenshot from YouTube

By Cassius Methyl
Intellihub.com

August 5, 2013

Because the state demands that people don’t smoke cannabis, the authorities will go as far as to kidnap your child to enforce this, and put him or her in a new, very likely more dangerous home. The bottom line is, there is almost no chance of a child ever possibly getting hurt because of his/her parents smoking cannabis.

Alcohol is legal, and parents can drink, therefore this kidnapping because of cannabis is absolutely dysfunctional, ridiculous, tyrannical, and in this case, fatal. This is a story of the state, at one of its most disgustingly dysfunctional and forceful points. It is abundantly clear that Alexandria Hill’s parents were average young people, in no way dangerous whatsoever. Joshua Hill, the father of Alexandria Hill, the 2 yr old girl who was killed, said “We never hurt our daughter. She was never sick, she was never in the hospital, and she never had any issues until she went into state ‘care’.”

Once she was forcibly placed in foster care last November, she began displaying bruises and injuries often, and appeared to live in unsanitary conditions. Alexandria’s father says “She would come to visitation with bruises on her, and mold and mildew in her bag. It got to a point where I actually told CPS that they would have to have me arrested, because I wouldn’t let her go back.”

The parents of Alexandria had her sent to a new home after the experience with the bruises and unsanitary living conditions, and this new home was the place where she received the fatal injuries. In January, for the second time, CPS made a mistake transferring her to this home, and that mistake was fatal.

They placed Alexandria in a home with 54 yr old Sherill Small, and she later either hit Alexandria in the head and killed her, or somehow inflicted a blow to her head, maybe dropped her , or threw her. Now this girl is dead, because the state can kidnap with impunity. Why should we ever allow the government to forcibly kidnap people’s children, for victimless crimes?

Why should we, the citizens, let them keep arresting people, hurting people, and letting people die for the controls they wish to impose on us? We have had enough of the dysfunctional, fake services they pretend to provide for us while they incessantly molest our lives from birth to death. Things seemed to be going alright according to Alexandria’s parents, when she was placed in the care of Sherill Small in Rockdale, Texas, at first.

The parents were about a month away from being reunited with their child, but then, Sherill beat the toddler’s head with a blunt object, or somehow inflicted severe force which resulted in blunt force trauma to the brain. The child sadly ended up in a coma, and she died 2 days later at the hospital. Sherill claims the child hit her head on a carpet when she was playing, but an investigation showed that the blunt force trauma means she was struck hard with something, and falling on carpet could never do that damage.

Sherill Small was arrested at her home for murder, yet revenge is not ‘justice’, as the ‘justice’ system would lead you to believe. This time, the dysfunctional and out of control, parasitic state has ended the life of a toddler. Punishing this psychotic old woman will not bring back the life of this girl. The only true justice that can be done, is to ensure that this doesn’t happen to anyone else, and the only way to achieve that, is to severely cut and limit the power of the state and federal governments. Our dogs will not be shot by police, our children will not be kidnapped by their parents and left to die in worse conditions, all of this would be okay, if only the citizens would demand that the government not arrest people for victimless crimes.

This is all a result of the citizens sitting back and watching TV, doing nothing, while these people continue to expand their own powers. The politicians and the people who control them like puppets, the corporations, and the police state they use to their advantage, are destroying us. It is time for the citizens to stand up, and have a peaceful revolution, clearing out the tyranny, taking people out of office, revoking laws.

We need to invoke the restoration of our true law, the Constitution, which doesnot allow the police to arrest people for victimless crimes, and kidnap children. Some very charismatic and corrupt politicians have manipulated our people over the years, convinced them that somehow the Constitution doesn’t guarantee basic rights, or that our safety is incompatible with freedom. They molested the loopholes in Constitutional Law until this was the result. It is now simply time to restore the true law- no more arresting people for victimless crimes.

We do need to solidify our rights that aren’t clearly outlined enough in the Constitution too, but it is a reasonable goal for freedom for today, to want to restore this true law. This is a reasonable philosophical solution to the problems we face today as a society. If you cannot see how much better off we would be without the government doing what they do, you need to learn about the crimes this government has committed. It is time to demand these people step down, and NO ONE restrict our rights to grow cannabis or smoke it.

This miracle plant that can be used to build homes, make paper and textiles, treat cancer and several other illnesses. Of course, it can even be smoked recreationally, being less harmful than almost any other recreational drug. You should know all of this, but knowing is only one step- now it is time to sway public opinion to a critical mass, and truly make the change happen. Go tell people about this, build up the support for freedom, the abolishment of all these government agencies, the revocation of laws, and the restoration of true constitutional law.

Please share this with as many people as possible, so we can simply gain our rights back, just so we can live in peace. This tyranny is getting bad- the scariest thing is how complacent and unaware many people are, of the crimes, dysfunctionality, and true nature of this government.

Writer Bio:

CassiusCassius Methyl is a journalist writing for Intellihub.com and a liberty activist who plays every instrument and vocals for an experimental metal-truth movement project called “Core of a Virus”. Find his music on Facebook. 

For media inquires, interviews, questions or suggestions for this author, email: cassius@intellihub.com or telephone: (347) 759-6075.

retrieved from: http://intellihub.com/2013/08/05/toddler-killed-by-foster-mom-after-being-taken-from-peaceful-birth-parents-for-their-cannabis-use/ on 09/03/2013 at 17:14 MDT

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and another

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UPDATE: Medical Marijuana Advocate Goes Public After Children Are Taken, Placed Into Foster Care

POSTED BY  ON MON, APR 29, 2013 AT 4:06 PM

UPDATE: April 30, 2013

The Boise Police Department released information regarding the April 24 incident involving Josh and Lindsey Rinehart, which resulted in the placement of the Rinehart’s children into the custody of the State of Idaho.

According to law enforcement, they were contacted by a local school official who said that an 11-year-old child had become ill, requiring medical treatment from a school nurse. Police said the child had eaten a substance which was identified as marijuana. Police said the marijuana had come from a home on the 2900 block of W. Malad Street. The child who became ill did not live at the residence but is acquainted with the Rinheart’s children.

Police said they went to the residence and found children, being cared for a babysitter while the parents were away. Police said they discovered drug paraphernalia and “a quantity of a substance that appeared to be marijuana in locations inside the house accessible to the children.” Patrol officers contacted narcotics investigators who secured a search warrant signed by a judge. Police added that their investigation has not yet resulted in criminal charges.

Detectives made the decision to contact Idaho Department of Health and Welfare officials who deemed that the children were in “imminent danger,” thereby putting the children into protective custody.

Police said typically they did not release information on cases that remain under investigation, but the suspects “in this case have chosen to identify themselves and the department believes it is in the public interest to clarify that evidence in a criminal investigation led officers to the Malad Street home.”

ORIGINAL POST:

Marijuana advocate Russ Belville, center left, is flanked by Lindsey Rinehart, center, and her husband Josh, center right.

  • ANDREW CRISP
  • Marijuana advocate Russ Belville, center left, is flanked by Lindsey Rinehart, center, and her husband Josh, center right.

Josh and Lindsey Rinehart believe the Idaho Department of Health and Welfare and the Boise Police Department erred in their decision to place their the Rinehart’s two sons in foster care, citing “imminent danger” because of the presence of marijuana found in the house.

“We’re taking issue with the ‘imminent danger’ charge,” Lindsey Rinehart said on the steps of the Idaho State Capitol. “I am a multiple sclerosis patient. The reason I had cannabis in my household is I’m a multiple sclerosis patient.”

Lindsey uses marijuana, she said, for medicinal purposes to treat her illness, which can cause violent muscle spasms. Boise Weekly readers may remember Rinehart from her testimony at the Idaho State Capitol regarding medical marijuana. As director of Compassionate Idaho,Rinehart has helped spearhead a petition drive to legalize marijuana in Idaho.

While the couple were on vacation April 23, she told Boise Weekly, Health and Welfare and Boise Police entered their home, confiscated marijuana found there, and ultimately placed her 5-year-old and 10-year-old boys in protective custody.

“We had just gotten cell service, and right when we entered Donnelly my cell phone kicked on and somebody had said the cops are at your house. And I knew,” she said.

The Rinhearts told media that on April 30 they will have supervised visitation with their children, and have begun the process of working with the Idaho Department of Health and Welfare to have their children returned to them. She said criminal charges have not yet been filed against her, but she anticipates they may be.

“Right now all I’ve heard is that they could be pending. There’s no warrant. I don’t know—it’s kind of this constant anxiety attack of when they’re going to come,” she said.

Tags: ,

retrieved from: http://www.boiseweekly.com/CityDesk/archives/2013/04/29/medical-marijuana-advocate-goes-public-after-children-are-taken-placed-into-foster-care on 09/03/2013 at 17:24 MDT

I could go on and on… what is wrong that these children are being ripped from their families? We have such bigger problems.

2013-01-12 0651 dark-angel edit 7 august edit

 

Pink Floyd Animals, Art, Activism

The piece is really a self portrait about my activism journey/personal life 2009-2012 set to the pink floyd animals album. im thinking the subtle message may be too personal and understated for most to “get it”

2012-12-19-1629-to-alter-edit-2-2.jpg

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animals_(Pink_Floyd_album)

Pigs on the Wing (Part One) (Waters) 1:24

If you didn’t care what happened to me,
And I didn’t care for you,
We would zig zag our way through the boredom and pain
Occasionally glancing up through the rain.
Wondering which of the buggars to blame
And watching for pigs on the wing.

Dogs (Waters, Gilmour) 17:06 

You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need.
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you’re on the street,
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed.
And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight,
You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking.

And after a while, you can work on points for style.
Like the club tie, and the firm handshake,
A certain look in the eye and an easy smile.
You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to,
So that when they turn their backs on you,
You’ll get the chance to put the knife in.

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder.
You know it’s going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you
get older.
And in the end you’ll pack up and fly down south,
Hide your head in the sand,
Just another sad old man,
All alone and dying of cancer.

And when you loose control, you’ll reap the harvest you have sown.
And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone.
And it’s too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw
around.
So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone,
Dragged down by the stone.

I gotta admit that I’m a little bit confused.
Sometimes it seems to me as if I’m just being used.
Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise.
If I don’t stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this
maze?

Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending
That everyone’s expendable and no-one has a real friend.
And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner
And everything’s done under the sun,
And you believe at heart, everyone’s a killer.

Who was born in a house full of pain.
Who was trained not to spit in the fan.
Who was told what to do by the man.
Who was broken by trained personnel.
Who was fitted with collar and chain.
Who was given a pat on the back.
Who was breaking away from the pack.
Who was only a stranger at home.
Who was ground down in the end.
Who was found dead on the phone.
Who was dragged down by the stone.

Pigs (Three Different Ones) (Waters) 11:26 
Big man, pig man, ha ha charade you are.
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha charade you are.
And when your hand is on your heart,
You’re nearly a good laugh,
Almost a joker,
With your head down in the pig bin,
Saying “Keep on digging.”
Pig stain on your fat chin.
What do you hope to find.
When you’re down in the pig mine.
You’re nearly a laugh,
You’re nearly a laugh
But you’re really a cry.

Bus stop rat bag, ha ha charade you are.
You fucked up old hag, ha ha charade you are.
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass.
You’re nearly a good laugh,
Almost worth a quick grin.
You like the feel of steel,
You’re hot stuff with a hatpin,
And good fun with a hand gun.
You’re nearly a laugh,
You’re nearly a laugh
But you’re really a cry.

Hey you, Whitehouse,
Ha ha charade you are.
You house proud town mouse,
Ha ha charade you are
You’re trying to keep our feelings off the street.
You’re nearly a real treat,
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
…..! …..! …..! …..!
You gotta stem the evil tide,
And keep it all on the inside.
Mary you’re nearly a treat,
Mary you’re nearly a treat
But you’re really a cry.

Sheep (Waters) 10:19

Harmlessly passing your time in the grassland away;
Only dimly aware of a certain unease in the air.
You better watch out,
There may be dogs about
I’ve looked over Jordan, and I have seen
Things are not what they seem.

What do you get for pretending the danger’s not real.
Meek and obedient you follow the leader
Down well trodden corridors into the valley of steel.
What a surprise!
A look of terminal shock in your eyes.
Now things are really what they seem.
No, this is no bad dream.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He makes me down to lie
Through pastures green He leadeth me the silent waters by.
With bright knives He releaseth my soul.
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places.
He converteth me to lamb cutlets,
For lo, He hath great power, and great hunger.
When cometh the day we lowly ones,
Through quiet reflection, and great dedication
Master the art of karate,
Lo, we shall rise up,
And then we’ll make the bugger’s eyes water.

Bleating and babbling I fell on his neck with a scream.
Wave upon wave of demented avengers
March cheerfully out of obscurity into the dream.

Have you heard the news?
The dogs are dead!
You better stay home
And do as you’re told.
Get out of the road if you want to grow old.

Pigs on the Wing (Part Two) (Waters) 1:27

You know that I care what happens to you,
And I know that you care for me.
So I don’t feel alone,
Or the weight of the stone,
Now that I’ve found somewhere safe
To bury my bone.
And any fool knows a dog needs a home,
A shelter from pigs on the wing.

lyrics courtesy of: http://www.pink-floyd-lyrics.com/index.html

Below it is my 24th draft and final of this video. The music is slightly slowed in the second version. In both videos I am symbolically distorting and burning my “self” and showcasing the art that comes from my inner turmoil.

Shall We Call it Wail Oil or Phoenix Tears?

Its the bitter watches of the night and I wake. I ask myself what it is that has rousted me this day from my slumber. Its not near my body clock’s time of 4am…. There is a wailing in my mind and I must ask myself “whose pain is this?” for I know it is not mine. My body is aching with the storm on the peak, but I’d just found my center and there was no wail with in me like this to speak.

So trying not to wake the other in my bed, I sit quietly and listen to see what it is this wailing voice has come to seek. Its victims so many victims… victims of war, hungry ghosts of a corrupt system, victims of the human butchers and legal poison vendors, victims of industry and victims of hard work, being eaten alive by cancer and bodily disorder of so many shapes and forms it makes me shudder in vibration with this wail. And within me I hold an answer for so many a gift from above that I try to spread without regard to a patient station in life….. It is a wail of responsibility. It is a wail of the profiteer’s victims. It is the wail of prohibitions ugly head……

I light a candle to guard my heart from a wailing so deep in the thick of the night and I still listen to the voice in my mind reminding me of their plight. I sit a while with the lamb in my breath asking that higher than I to step in and take this wail up with my smoke to the sky. I ask for the means to bless those wailing with even a few grams of healing and hope cause I believe in doing what my creator said. And I know that this life and this path I have chosen for myself has never been easy but its not about self.

I give honor to the earth. I burn sacred sage of the earth and cleanse the darkness from my mind until light only remains. I light incense and honor the air. More candles glow and I honor the firey spirit of the soul and I soak in salted and perfumed waters and try to scrub away the victimization of these beautiful souls. Lambs breath fills my pipe and lungs and mind and I try to send a shining beacon of the creators light to these wailing in my mind and in the dark and in their own lives and pain… Dressed for the day I inhale organic tobacco and ponder quietly.

Then another presence comes upon my mind…. and I am taken back though the years and back in time. To a place and time where my body was not constantly sore…. Its boulder its Ginsberg its 1994. Its a little bookish Jewish dude who howled for his time and who brought me to his feet to sit for a time… You see he was my own personal poet willy wonka who saw a bit of my poetry and brought me on up to the Naropa factory to sit at his feet for the anniversary of his beloved school. It was Allen Ginsberg day in Boulder and I was with the master and yet a child myself….. I remember how he opened my eyes and smoked a blended herbal cigarette with me in an intermission…..

What dreams I have of you tonight Allen Ginsberg as you dreamed of Walt Whitman…. with sick people wailing in the night and my soul howling at the moon of my own inner madness.

I wonder where you are tonight while I feel so small and so responsible. I imagine you my zen master in your own nirvana or perhaps your here again in another body and another life… But from wherever you are I seem to hear your voice reminding me of the power of my pen and of the ideals to which you and I both try to keep. You wanted freedom of the plant and so do I. I’m trying to be a willy wonka for others where you were willy wonks for I… and so my musings and prayers and light intercessions complete I turn to what I can do for those wailing from where I am and put actions to the light that I keep.

And so I begin to wail for these folks online saying with my writers voice and my mighty pen:

I begin with this blessing: Virtual early Sunday morning tokes to all of the Rastafarian sacramental strain lambs breath. For me this strain quiets fears and calms my mind. It clears my mind and puts me in a space where i can enter my creators holy throne room with gratitude and peace instead of chaos and turmoil. It makes me still enough to hear the still small voice of my soul. It points me to currents and springs of strength and reminds me of the good i do. All of this i have for me i extend to you virtually and in energy and prayer.

Note***** There are two sacramental strains to the Rastafarian religion. One is called Lamb’s bread (I have never had the pleasure of smoking this strain) and it is said to have cola’s so large that the buds are sliced up like slices of bread. This is said to be more for dancing and rejoicing before the Lamb. Lamb’s breath is characterized by smaller dense highly resinous buds that are mellow, mind clearing and good for quiet contemplation.

I am still looking for new raw material sources to meet demand. I will pay $100 a pound for quality trim. I know a lot of you usually process your own trim but who cant use an extra few dollars around the holidays that the transaction goes to save lives? Call 719 480 0238. you must be in Colorado. I need bulk i need it quick.

I will travel anywhere in the state and negotiate on price for the right weight of the right stuff. I need trim that bad. I am trying to get people served as quickly as possible while longer term sources Relationships are in the works. Call 719 480 0238. A portion of any and all trim purchased goes to provide free phoenix tears to those in need that is why i need good prices. To put goodies into financially challenged cancer and severe illness folks hands. Lets get those free folks their Christmas presents and the paid folks what they deserve. It will make you feel good to give some people tears of joy.

The rest of you who cannot help with actions you may offer you energy to the task. Never underestimate the power of prayer in intercession for someone else. If we focus good vibes on those free peeps and paid peeps their lives can improve exponentially by far more than me just getting Their oil delivered to them. I invite you to join me in that intention…. No, i challenge you to.

Where is the heart that used to beat in this state for the less fortunate? Have you all gone mad with greed? I am willing to pay a fair price so i can give meds away for free. Will no one support me in that cause? Are you all so rich you can laugh at thousands of dollars? Are you all so unmoved by the plight of the less fortunate? Is there no one who believes in me filling hands where mine once needed filled? No one thinks its good to repay kindness by paying
it forward to others?

I just gotta get these people taken care of. For some it means hope to try for another year. There is a couple who lives on the street. One partner has bone cancer and has all but given up. When my oil is there they live as good as they can and enjoy what life they have. Without the oil bone cancer boy gives up. They cant pay and i don’t care. I wanna give them both some hope and quality of life.

There is a writer whom many respect respect within our community whose belly aches him to no end and he cant sleep among other serious issues that are more private. He works hard for our cause but cant afford oil. He is the very picture of a starving writer and artist with a good soul and I wanna get him some rest and comfort so he can continue to serve us all so well.

There is an awesome bud-tend who works for far less than he is worth. The shop he works for sells oil yet it is out of his price range. A grain of rice a day would stop him from needing a diabetic needle yet his pancreas is far overworked. I wanna be sure he can keep giving patients the strains they need with the brain in his head. I have never left his shop with anything other than a strain to treat exactly the conditions I am concerned about that day mostly due to his knowledge that keeps a wide variety of strains for a wide variety of ailments on the shelves and getting into the right hands.

There are Numerous ladies and gents with tumors praying to avoid chemo and folks hoping not to need their noses scraped off their faces Who cant pay and need mercy. How can anyone deny the value of what i”m trying to accomplish? will no one sell me the raw materials i need to enrich these lives. I have shared but the tip of the iceberg.

Someone calls these folks I’m trying to help jewels in my crown. I bristle at the suggestion. I don’t care about jewels in my crown. If the creator blesses me as such that is incidental. I give because i know need better than most and to repay the kindnesses done for me by good people when i had nothing.

I do it because someone needs to and far too many are far too concerned with profit. I do it because these are victims of a corrupt system each and everyone in one way or another.

And i do it because it is in my nature to do it. And to make my murdered son proud of me from where he sits waiting on me in the afterlife and to make his wait have meaning. Help me make these sick people’s wait have meaning too.

So if you have some trim and a heart call me at 719 480 0238 And lets bless some people together. If you have a heart and no trim please just keep these good folks in your thoughts and prayers or however you communicate with the universe offer some strength in the direction of one or more of these people. Don’t direct it at me please. The sick need your love and light far more than i do.

I ask again! Where is the heart that used to beat in this state for the less fortunate? Have you all gone mad with greed? I am willing to pay a fair price so i can give meds away for free. Will no one support me in that cause? Are you all so rich you can laugh at thousands of dollars? Are you all so unmoved by the plight of the less fortunate? Is there no one who believes in me filling hands where mine once needed filled? No one thinks its good to repay kindness by paying it forward to others?

And so I move from being woke in the night, to prayer, to action trying to get some help to those who need it most. Won’t you please help me? I want to buy raw materials to make them medicine. That’s all.

Some Raw Materials images purchased after this post:

This is some sugar out of one of our big bags of trim

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA

virtual tokes from my bag to your bowl.....some bud from an oil making bag of raw materials that came from an awesome friend — in Denver, CO.

virtual tokes from my bag to your bowl…..
some bud from an oil making bag of raw materials that came from an awesome friend — in Denver, CO.

You Can't see my pain with your eyes. The only thing that relieves my pain is Cannabis! You could never imagine the pain I suffer, yet you deny me my freedom.

You Can’t see my pain with your eyes. The only thing that relieves my pain is Cannabis! You could never imagine the pain I suffer, yet you deny me my freedom.

Tea Partying With the Freak Brothers By: Steve Bass

http://hipgnosis21.blogspot.com/2012/01/tea-partying-with-freak-brothers.html

FRIDAY, JANUARY 13, 2012

Tea Partying With the Freak Brothers

BY: Steve Bass

Whew! These Occupy posts are far more difficult to pry from myself than their predecessors; the hands-on mechanics of putting the earlier stuff into practice in the present world, amongst the isolated pools of individuated consciousness we humans represent, each with his or her own vision of the whole, has been at the very least disorienting. I’ve lately revived an old motto i swiped from the good people at Oat Willie’s down in Austin, Texas: Onward Through the Fog! How odd is it that i’ve recently connected with some folks that hark back to that place in ways that are deeply surreal. Oat Willie’s and Fat Freddie will seem to be completely out of place in this bit, in which i mean to address the notion of cooperation amongst disparate factions, but not permanently i hope. By the end of this post, i hope to connect Occupy, The Tea Party, disparate passions, and yes, Hippies. It will be necessary to engage in some relatively surreal thinking.Last night on a new Facebook page, “UNITE: OCCUPY,” (cap lock and all), i got into a conversation about this stuff started by a guy that asked whether anyone thought a joint event between Occupiers and Tea Partiers might be possible. Sure, i said, our Colorado Springs group had lots of Tea Partiers among its earliest enthusiasts, and although many have pulled away, there still exists a close association with many that veer sharply toward the Te Party camp, especially among Ron Paulsupporters. The common ground Occupy shares with the Tea Party, at least t a grass root level, is substantial. There can be no doubt of the equally substantial differences. I suspect that it would take some pretty serious ideological barnstorming to bring the two camps together, but nothing prevents the groups from at least tentative discussion to find commonalities.Tonight our Occupy group staged a talk by Tea Party stalwart, Constitutionalist Mike Holler. Mike seemed for all appearances to be an earnest and well-versed supporter of Constitutional “fundamentalism,” if you will. He peppered his talk with lots of my favorite quotes from my favorite founding fathers. He got a little testy about the revisionist history his kids bring home from college early on–perhaps indicative of one point of separation between Occupiers and Tea Partiers. Some of those are important. Occupy is international, where the Tea Party can display degrees of jingoism. I, personally, respect the earnest efforts of our Enlightenment founders, but recognize that they were flawed, and aver that their document was dated by racist, sexist, and elitist provisions and thinking that they might be excused from by noting their temporal milieu. We don’t have the same luxury. Occupy is legitimately grass root, supported by sweat and blood more than funded, where TP is, or at least became very quickly corporately funded “AstroTurf,” disingenuously proffering libertarian ideals as a smoke screen for corporate license to plunder. Occupiers are  in my experience far more diverse than Tea Partiers. Socialist and Anarchist Occupiers are common, as are assorted races, genders, orientations, and religious persuasions, where Tea Partiers seem to my limited observation to be relatively homogeneously white Christian capitalist patriots. Mike interjected that both groups had been misrepresented by the media, and that seems likely to be so given that mainstream media seems content to misrepresent ’bout anything they report in this country, but Fox news and the rabid right like the Tea Party so much i have to wonder if he’s fallen victim to a personal soft spot.Mike spoke eloquently enough in his effort to simplify the Constitution, focusing on issues of freedom, and state’s rights. He said very little with which i could find disagreement. He pointed out two major points of confluence between Occupy and the Tea Party–personal liberty, and a rally-cry, “No more Bailouts!” I suspect he fastidiously avoided some points he knew or at least feared might be contentious, like for example the ludicrous assertions i’ve heard often that environmental warnings from the scientific community stem from some kind of Satanic control scheme from the–well just whom is never too clear. The Vatican or something. Commies, i guess. That just maybe the best way for Tea Partiers and Occupiers to interact, though, for now, concentrating on the common aversion to what amounts to Fascism. Interacting from that perspective could exclude much conversation. It could put the Tea Party in the same position as the Occupy movement, after their Fascist sponsors withdraw in horror. Whatever. We Occupiers got on just fine with Tea Party Mike–“Mr. Constitution.”Mike largely expressed notions we Occupiers could embrace. I suppose he could have done a bit of research and tailored his speech toward that  end, but i think we just agree; he seemed a grassroot kind of guy, to me. He briefly alluded to schisms within the Tea Party, and there’s no sensible reason to avoid acknowledging the same within Occupy. Last night’s event was attended by Occupy people that have had such extreme altercations in their attempts to wrestle a semblance of ideological unity from a stubbornly liquid platform that it could easily enough have disintegrated into bedlam. I attended with my dear friend Thomas, with whom i often disagree. In fact, he and i often disagree so strongly that sometimes i feel like smacking him in back of the head. I expect he feels the same way about me at times. Maybe much of the time. Take note, war-mongers of the world: Thomas is a great guy, and even though we disagree with one another, sometimes strongly, neither of us has smacked the other in back of the head. Get it?So here we were last night, disparate Occupiers engaging a Tea Party mouthpiece in a room full of people that have all experienced the vagaries of human interaction under a fairly pressurized circumstance over the past few months. No butterflies fluttered around the room, but no one worked up a bickering session, either.  We worked together. All of us. One could recall the old adage that “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” but that would be devolution. I prefer to imagine that those with arguments present recognized the futility of scrapping amongst friends, if only below the radar of their Egos. Whether my nobler hopes for those pained souls in the room last night are valid or not, the assertions i made in these non-pages well before Occupy began remain true. The system we wrestle against is collapsing around our headsAnd the solution is spiritual, to a far greater extent than it is temporal.Fat Freddy is a comic book character that lives in Denver. Seriously. I met him a little while ago. (This only seems out of place, i promise.) Mr. Constitution Mike Holler expressed the opinion last night that our American republic, our constitutional federation of states, is in its final throes; that we are in a position where, ” it’s too late to save the country, but too early to start shooting.” Mike seemed tentative in expressing his hope that God might pull some kind of supernatural rabbit from his celestial hat to resolve our monumental national woes. I expect he feared perturbing the often non-Christian sensibilities of the Occupiers. He needn’t have worried quite so much–we may be largely skeptical of literal interpretations, but we’re pretty tolerant of that sort of thing. When i met Fat Freddy–an icon of counter-cultural activism important to me since childhood, an old-school Hippie with connection to the most famous and infamous of that crowd–he singled me out and pulled me aside to explain in some detail his expectation for a spiritual upheaval in coming days. Freddy’s taken up with the Urantia Book, a tomei’ve heard Christians disparage as devilish. I couldn’t see anything devilish about what he showed me. He earnestly explained his expectation for resolution. Soon.We had come to Denver to talk about foreclosures and bank jiggery-pokery with another guy, and pulled up at Freddy’s house without knowing it. It just happened that way. These old Hippies like Tea Party fave, Ron Paul. (Follow along, now, i know it’s weird, and yeah, i know a lot of Occupiers don’t like Paul; i’m not sure about him myself). Also in attendance at that meeting was a woman i had been conversing with on line for quite a while in the context of Occupy. It took me nearly through the whole meeting to recognize her, because i knew her to live down in the Four Corners neighborhood of Colorado. She lives at Freddy’s now. This juxtaposition is so weird that now i’m expecting the Mad Hatter, or Lewis Carroll himself to pop up at some meeting quoting from Jabberwocky. Mike Holler holds out for resolution to  the country’s woes in a traditional Christian context. My own suspicion, shared with J.B.S. Haldane,  is that the Universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose. But somewhere in the mix i am convinced that some divineThing many of us think of as God is deeply interested in the little proceedings here on our little blue marble and that our interactions are subsequently and necessarily thus influenced.

We live right here. We have no choice but  to manage things on a coarse, physical level; but we also live, i think, on an overlapping and  less tangible plane, where we have more influence than we might ordinarily imagine. At the same time, things seem to occur there without our conscious direction. We’ll need to keep plugging away at things like grasping the Constitution, and taking on massive, quixotic quests like fighting banks and a world full of renegade, intransigent governments and power brokers, not to mention our own internal battles, as finely defined as within our own Souls. We’ll need to recognize the Truth in one another, even when it’s obscured by a bunch of worldly disagreement and fog. And so far as i can tell, were learning. Whatever that means.

POSTED BY AT 10:45 AM

Breezy Wants you to write an inmate

Breezy Wants you to write an inmate

by Breezy Kiefair on Sunday, August 28, 2011 at 3:18pm ·

Below follows a list of inmates who would appreciate a letter. Please feel free to add other inmates in the comments.

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2013-06-05 06.52.03 edit 1

Cannabis POWs that THE HUMAN SOLUTION would appreciate you writing

http://the-human-solution.org/prison-outreach-program/pow-stories/pow-easy-address-list/

Cannabis POWs:

Marilyn Hinda Green # 20400-075
FPC Alderson
Federal Prison Camp
P.O. Box A
Alderson, WV 24910

Gerry Lynn Campbell #20405-075
USP Marion
Satellite Prison Camp
P.O. Box 1000
Marion, IL 62959

Ronnie Smith #036312 Unit 4
Yavapa County Jail
Booking # 13-02676
2830 Commonwealth Dr #105
Camp Verde, AZ 86322

Israel Cavazos #63545-097
USP Florence ADMAX
U.S. Penitentiary
PO Box 8500
Florence, CO 81226

Jayme Jeff Walsh #125866
P.O. Box 490
Red Bluff, CA 96080

Jerry Laberdee #13904-085
FCI Sheridan
P.O. Box 6000
Sheridan, OR 97378

Shelley Waldron #16250-040
Lexington FMC
3301 Leestown Rd
Lexington, KY 40511

John Marcinkewicz #16252-040
Duluth FPC
6902 Stebner Rd
Duluth, MN 55814

Christopher Wayne Williams #11839-046
FCI Sheridan
Satellite Camp
P.O. Box 6000
Sheridan, OR 97378

Marion P Fry #15840-097
Dublin FCI
5701 8th Camp Park
Dublin Ca. 94568

Sherry Flor #11358-046
Federal Prison Camp
37930 N. 45th Ave
Phoenix, AZ 85086

Jeremy Duval #46344-039
FCI Morgantown
P.O. Box 1000
Morgantown, WV 26507

Jaycob Montague #16251-040
FCI Pekin
P.O. Box 5000
Pekin IL 61555

Bryan Epis #09636-097
FCI Terminal Island
P.O. Box 3007
San Pedro, CA 90731

Dustin Robert Costa #62406-097
Federal Prison Camp
P.O. Box 5000
Florence, CO 81226

Aaron Sandusky #63038-112
FCI Big Spring
1900 Simler Avenue
Big Spring, TX 79720

Dale C Schafer #15839-097
CI Taft
P.O. Box 7001
Taft, CA 93268

Richard Ruiz Montes #63130-097
FCI Lompoc
3600 Guard Road
Lompoc, CA 93436

Timothy Dellas #93161-011
FCI Sheridan Federal Prison Camp
PO Box 6000, Unit 5
Sheridan, OR 97378-6000

Luke Scarmazzo #63131-097
FCI Lompoc
3901 Klein Blvd
Lompoc, CA 93436

Charles Edward Lepp #90157-011
FCI La Tuna
P.O. Box 6000
Anthony, TX 88021

Eric Christopher Stacy #64977-097
CCM Sacramento
Community Corrections Office
501 I Street, Suite 9-400
Sacramento, CA 95814

Charles Lee Kisor #64974-097
CI Taft
P.O. Box 7001
Taft, CA 93268

Christopher Bartkowicz #36791-013
USP Leavenworth
U.S. Penitentiary
P.O. Box 1000
Leavenworth, KS 66048

Virgil Edward Grant #47375-112
FCI Terminal Island
PO Box 3007
San Pedro, CA 90731

Scott Eric Feil #14313-111
CI Taft
P.O. Box 7001
Taft, CA 93268

Marc Emery, #40252-086
Yazoo City, Med FCI
P.O. Box 5888
Yazoo City, MS 39194

Roger Christie #99279-022
FDC Honolulu
P.O. Box 30080
Honolulu, HI  96820

Ronnie Montojo Chang #28613-298
220 W C Street
San Diego, CA 92101

Older addresses

~~~~~~~~~~~

Floyd Martinez

#66119

P.O. Box 777

Canon City CO

81215

*** Breezy has written Floyd herself…  a few times over the years.. he’s cool.***

~~~~~~~~~~~

MARC EMERY #40252-086

FCI YAZOO CITY – MEDIUM E-1

P.O. BOX 5888

YAZOO CITY, MS

39194

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Ken Burke #10021-091
Federal Correctional Complex
FCI Victorville #1
P.O. Box 5300
Adelanto, CA 92301
Would be cool if it were someone in California because then there would be the possibility of a visit too!! I think he has about 5 years left…not sure why he’s in there but he’s definitely on the weed team.

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Darlene Spears #131779
P.O. Box 392005, Denver, CO 80239
Breezy’s bio-sister says this about Darlene:

She was my cell mate when I was doing my time. She’s doing life without parole…She’s accused of murder…She told me she’s innocent. She’s accused of murdering her husband she claims that her husband told on some people down south and that they were the ones who murdered him I liked her a lot..Sad they gave her life without parole

~~~~~~~~~~~

this inmate has been released
Ronnie Smith
c/o Yavapai county Jail
Inmate #036312 Unit 4
Booking # 13-02676
2830 Commonwealth Dr #105
Camp Verde, AZ 86322-9998

~~~~~~~~~~~

BREEZY WANTS YOU TO WRITE AN INMATE!Related Articles:

Who We are, How We Came to Be, Why we Give back

Article I wrote that was published in Cannabis Health news Magazine February 2010

need proof that it was published (i know many of you do…http://cannabishealthnewsmagazine.com/PDF/CHNM_Feb2010_small.pdf )

The below piece is to be published in the next issue of Cannabis Health News Magazine whose editor is Jason Lauve. Jason was acquitted of all charges by a jury on August 6, 2009. He has been a tireless advocate for Medical Marijuana patients in Colorado before this date and since.
Kiefair Keepsakes…. How we came to be, Why we give back

Copyrighted material All Rights Reserved see message at the bottom of essay

I tell you this story, not for myself, but for those in similar situations without the strength or ability to speak.

The government of the United States and the State of Colorado (as well as other states) are all saving a ton of money due to the growth in the medical marijuana industry and so are the dispensaries and caregivers. As a patient caught in the middle, I decided that I may have a unique perspective on this issue and have decided to throw my two cents in on the topic.

If you listen to the news, it seems to be the government officials vs. the dispensary owners. here in Colorado. This should not be the case. The patients needs should be at the heart of this discussion, particularly the needs of low income medical marijuana patients on Social Security Disability and Social Security Income (SSD/SSI)

I posted much of the content you will read here all over the internet in an effort to help myself and others in my position. I sat in the online forums begging:

“Is there someone, anyone out there who hears my plea and wants to help me actually do something other than sit in online forums and complaining about the problem and hope someone does something”

I was heartbroken to find little positive response and a lot of negative/cruel responses by persons who clearly are recreational users and not medical users. The treatment of women in some of these cannabis forum rooms was often appalling. I finally decided to stop beating a dead horse and set up a store front to help me get the funds I need for my own medicine, food and other needs and to donate 10% of our profits to provide medical marijuana for free to low income patients in need. Currently we have only one dispensary signed on with us, GreenBelly Co-op LLC in Eldorado Springs, Co.

We encourage other dispensaries and caregivers to join with us in this effort. The funds to be donated will be held in trust and dispensed when/where they are needed according to the needs and location of the patient in question. A patient from your area would contact me, then I would contact you to confirm you have the stock necessary for the patient and to confirm availability of time, I would then deposit money for their medication into a paypal account owned by your dispensary. The patient could then come in and pick up their necessary medicine. I require no investment on your part. Patients would report on the quality of your medicine and I would then write their reviews and forward their recommendations (no names attached) on the net. Everybody wins. People who wish to provide money for the trust can purchase anything in my online gift-store or my personal catalog. 10% of my profits go to this fund. Hopefully a larger and larger percentage of profits will got to the trust when my personal finances allow me.

When I began to write the essay that I posted in the online forums, I decided that my joining the Medical Marijuana Registry was my Christmas Present to the American Taxpayer for the year 2009. And posted the title as “My Personal Christmas Gift to the American Taxpayer.”

Now, you may imagine me as the stereotype of a “stoner” that has been created by the media. Let me correct you
First of all, I am a female over 25 and under 40 with severe and debilitating Fibromyalgia, the kind that forces doctors to shake their heads and prescribe one ineffective man made medicine on top of another while I waste away and my quality of life diminishes. The onset of my symptoms began almost instantly after my birth in Canon City, CO and I have been fragile ever since. I’ve even been told by a doctor or two that may well have one of the worst Fibromyalgia cases on record. I was a ward of the State of Colorado until I ran away when I was 16 due to horrid abusive conditions within the state foster care program and completed my high school in another state.

My sole health insurance is provided to me is under medicare/medicaid. This is because I am completely disabled and the doctors do not allow me to work, or even to attend school. I assure you that this is only for the time being… I am getting stronger all the time!

In 1994, I was awarded Ginsberg Scholarship up at Naropa during the 20th anniversary festival. I dreamed for years of attending, but my health prevented it. I finally got stubborn and bullied my doctors into letting me go. I was accepted into and attended Naropa University for two semesters in 2007-2008 school year in an effort to get a degree that would give me access to jobs more suited to my bodies abilities, and was pulled out by my doctors both times. Naropa wanted me there, I wanted to be there, but government programs required I be enrolled a certain amount of credit hours (beyond the abilities of my body) in order to keep my funding. I attempted a semester at Grand Canyon University online in Fall 2008 to the same effect. Now I have many thousands of dollars in student loans I can’t pay because I attempted to get a degree so I could get a job my body could handle.

I was forced to be on government programs like Social Security Disability and Social Security Income (SSD/SSI) at a young age. I was in middle school when I was put on SSD/SSI for the first time while I was a ward of the State of Colorado.

Let me clarify, the first time I was put on disability, I was a minor and the State decided as my sole legal guardian to place me on disability. The state “adopted me” in a sense.My name was changed legally and my parents rights to me as a child were formally, legally and permanently terminated. None of it was not my choice (except the name change after years of foster care), it was not discussed with me, I was a child. My medical care as a child was much as it is now, with the exception of the fact that kids get a bit more coverage. Being on the program at a young age, I did not accumulate much in the way of work money in my SSI account, although I did attempt to work several times. Unfortunately every time, an employer or doctor would get tired of me being sick and put a stop to it one way or another. That is why my monthly amounts from SSI/SSD are so low, not because I am disabled, but because I couldn’t work to pay into the system like the people who receive these benefits only when they reach retirement after a full life of paying in. Also did you know the government actually Penalized people for getting married if you are both on disability? They treat you as one person and give you one person’s pay! For love, and for spiritual reasons I decided that was a risk I would just have take. So, I married my love who happened to be on disability also anyway.

Now I ask the members of the Government of the Great State of Colorado, if you had an adult child who was sick and suffering would you leave them to languish in pain and poverty just because it was no longer your legal responsibility? Of course you wouldn’t. You would do whatever was in your power to make your child as comfortable as possible.

As an adult child, I now boldly but humbly step up to my adopted parent, the Government of the State of Colorado, and ask, “Guardian Colorado, do you it intend to focus on the dispensaries who are the money in this discussion, or do you intend to focus on your citizens whose LIVES are being saved by this plant? You discuss care giving so much in this debate, but the treatment of patients on the part of many in this debate has proven differently. I know you have hearts, please use them as you consider these policies. This shouldn’t be a partisan issue. This should be a people issue.

Before I was placed on the Colorado Medical Marijuana Registry in June 2009, I would have to visit a doctors office several times a month, sometimes several times a week, sometimes with several appointments booked the same day with specialists and tests, painful and difficult physical therapy that seemed to harm more than hurt, etc., and there were to many trips to the emergency room to count.

I went to the ER out of sheer desperation, I went just so I could get comfortable enough to have a bit of sleep after a week or more of lingering in a painful place that seemed to be located in deep within the realm of a narcotic distorted pain haze, a no-where-land that seemed to be somewhere between life and death. The doctors in the emergency room and elsewhere often treated me as though I was an addict, and not a pain patient, AND I WAS MISERABLE!

Since I was approved for the medical marijuana registry I haven’t needed near the amount of services from the medicaid/medicare program. In fact, I’ve had to see a doctor twice since June 3, 2009 when the doctor signed my forms.

Once to have 14 teeth pulled, a little bit of dental work made necessary by a combination of years of no dental benefits unless my teeth couldn’t be saved and needed to be pulled, being on narcotics for almost a decade, and dealing with severe nausea/vomiting/malnutrition.

The other doctor visit (and medications that followed) were for a bad cold that I caught at the dentists office. I haven’t seen a doctor at all otherwise, although I do call my family doctor to check in and let her know I am doing well.

Before I was on the MMJ registry, I was on so many medications (20 plus medications taken at various intervals though the day) that I felt like I was taking a pill every 2 minutes…. Number of traditional prescriptions I take daily now – ZERO.

Now the government was paying for all those medications I was on before through medicare/medicaid, plus all the doctor visits to get, maintain, and change dosing on those prescriptions right? Some of those medications by themselves cost the government thousands of dollars a month! Many could not have refills on them by law and required a doctor visit every time I needed more.

I always felt guilty about my personal burden on the American Taxpayers. But now I don’t have to feel guilty cause I have given a present to the American Taxpayer. I got on the MMJ registry. Now I do not go to the mainstream doctor unless I need antibiotics. I am off all prescriptions. I had tobacco quit (been trying for 20 years to quit) until I was without medicine too long and got stressed out, but I plan to quit again.

I and am well enough to manage a website as well as volunteer and be an advocate for others in need. I have regularly traded my services in clerical/computer work either from home or in the GreenBelly Coop LLC office for medications when I am strapped for cash. All of these things would have been impossible for me nine short months ago when I was all but bedridden and and in so much pain I had to keep myself from overdosing.

The government is saving many thousands of dollars a month on me alone, and yet I have to struggle to obtain this money saver for the American taxpayer. That much cut in government spending on the part of an individual… I should get a medal or something. Now think how many individuals are saving the government this money in the State of Colorado alone…. Let alone the other 13 states and the District of Columbia! We all need medals or medicine at the very least!

How many others are there like me? Meanwhile, the price of my medicine increases as the MMJ movement grows. My family and I have been stuck having to make really hard decisions like, do we pawn our wedding and engagement rings to get my medicine? Or do we pawn them and buy some food? Or do we keep the rings for sentimental reasons, lay here and just starve and have seizures from pain and lack of medicine/food.

I ended up pawning all the rings, having already sold else of value to the pawn store and bought both medicine and food. The money I received for my treasured bands did not buy nearly enough of either medicine or food. We promised ourselves we would get them back, but I ended up crying my eyes out when I realized I just can’t afford to get them out of hock. The deadline to get them back passed weeks ago. I live in a Winnebago and have been in real danger of starving to death at times. Now don’t get me wrong, my life has been profoundly changed by this medicine, and any hardship I may have to endure is truly worth the benefits of this plant. I will not compromise and go back to the narcotics and other prescriptions just because I can get them paid for or for any other reason. I would rather be in pain when I am without my medical marijuana than take a morphine and get sicker.

Sometimes family members and the community can make it very hard to be a low income medical marijuana patient too. I have heard many stories of people not living with family/friends any longer because they are shunned for their medicinal use. I’ve experienced this shunning first hand myself. The stereotype of the “typical” marijuana user is further damaging these people with no where else to turn!

This herb is profoundly changing lives! It is healing people, body, mind, and soul. Yet its legal users get treated as if they are using it for recreation. I believe recreational use is a VALID use of the plant, further I feel it be legalized and would be an important source of revenue for America if it were to be legal once again. However, that is not why I personally NEED this plant.

This plant allows me to eat, to sleep, to get out of my bed, to manage my pain enough to have a job, to be involved with life instead of living in a nightmare world just praying for the end to come soon. If you happen to be a Fibromyalgia patient praying for the end, you can be praying for a long time as this is not a terminal disease.

The Mayo clinic website (see footnote 1) describes symptoms of Fibromyalgia as including

Signs and symptoms of fibromyalgia can vary, depending on the weather, stress, physical activity or even the time of day.
Widespread pain and tender points
The pain associated with fibromyalgia is described as a constant dull ache, typically arising from muscles. To be considered widespread, the pain must occur on both sides of your body and above and below your waist.
Fibromyalgia is characterized by additional pain when firm pressure is applied to specific areas of your body, called tender points. Tender point locations include:

Back of the head, Between shoulder blades, Top of shoulders, Front sides of neck, Upper chest,Outer elbows, Upper hips, Sides of hips, Inner knees

Fatigue and sleep disturbances
People with fibromyalgia often awaken tired, even though they seem to get plenty of sleep. Experts believe that these people rarely reach the deep restorative stage of sleep. Sleep disorders that have been linked to fibromyalgia include restless legs syndrome and sleep apnea.
Co-existing conditions
Many people who have fibromyalgia also may have:

Chronic fatigue syndrome
Depression
Endometriosis
Headaches
Irritable bowel syndrome (IBS)
Lupus
Osteoarthritis
Post-traumatic stress disorder
Restless legs syndrome
Rheumatoid arthritis

And a whole host of other conditions not on the Mayo clinic list.

Moder Western medicine can’t even agree on the causes/mechanisms of this disease because they don’t understand it.

It has been suggested that this is a psychological disease only, a psychosis created when a hypocondriac hears about fibromyalgia. The advocates of this theory say that the symptoms of this diesease are all in the patient’s head. I do not personally believe in this theory, but even if this disease is all in my head, the medical marijuana still helps.

Other sources on Fibromyalgia suspect that this disease has been around for all time, a genetic disease with a trigger, and its symptoms are found even in individuals of remote tribes of Africa and the Amazon who have no contact with the west. So why should I use new untested man-made medicine created by people who don’t understand my disease and possibly believe it doesn’t exist? Especially when that disease has been treated with herbs known to posses pain relieving qualities for many generations of humans?

Personally, my last completely “pain free” moment was around 3:30 PM on August 21, 2002. I know because I keep a detailed pain/medication journal in an effort to regulate my condition. I am confident that If I had the proper medicine, I would have pain free moments again. This herb doesn’t just treat pain sensations, it helps correct causes. Perhaps with the right regimen, daily pain could be a thing of the past for me.

This disease itself may not kill you, but it can certainly make you wish for death. There are near epidemic levels of Fibromyalgia patients and pain patients in general who are hurting so bad they are suicidal, or worse succeed in taking their own life. I have a brother who died as a result of a doctor who wasn’t paying enough attention with his pen and prescription pad. After years of pain and suffering following a head injury, my brother died of a drug interaction prescribed by his doctor.

Dispensaries are necessary, but not without a social conscience
Now the other side of the coin. It is no secret that the people who own dispensaries are making money on patients like me too.

We need these dispensaries for a variety of reasons.
1)What would a patient do if their caregiver had a bad crop and was without medicine? If that paitent was restricted from seeing other caregivers they would have no where to get their medicine but the street.
2) Our caregivers are restricted to a number of plants they can grow for you, thus if you become tolerant to the genetics of one strain of medicine quickly and need to change the genetics of you medication often, it may be difficult for your caregiver to have/maintain the variety you need.
3) Competition strengthens customer service and prevents patients from being in a form of bondage by their caregiver. If we restrict patients from going to other dispensaries, how are they to know if the medicine they are receiving is the best quality available for them. If we restrict the number of persons a dispensary can serve to a tiny number and prevent patients from seeing other medical marijuana providers, and in addition the number of times a year they can change their caregiver, then patients must settle for whatever medicine a particular caregiver is giving them whether it is effective or not.

We need a program to help low income patients get their medicine!
If you are low income and can’t afford your “mainstream pharmacy” medicine, you can go to various organizations and they will help you to buy your medicine, sometimes even on a regular basis if they are necessary and not covered by insurance, but that doesn’t include medical marijuana.

If you are brave enough to speak up and ask for help getting your medicine at these organizations, you will probably find the door closed firmly in your face. You may also find that other services from the organization become difficult or impossible to obtain as well. This is out and out discrimination in my opinion. If your medicine is MMJ no one is willing to help you unless you happen to be lucky enough to find a care giver who actually gives a care if you have medicine or not! I just put my medical costs on a new food stamp application mailed 1/13/09 to Boulder County. We shall see what happens.

“So what,” you say? Well let’s look at this… The high price can force a person in my position to go back to buying their medicine off the street where it is less expensive, but also less potent, less safe.

1)You never know what has been added to you herb to increase the genetically weak herbs potency artificially with other street drugs or various substances to make it seem as though there is more weight to the medicine.

2)It is much more dangerous to obtain, and the process of obtaining it can be a risk to your health in many ways. Long periods in the cold and encounters with strange germs can put a person right back in their sick bed or the hospital.

3) The money spent on street grade medication often goes back to fund gang and criminal activity. This is something that most medical marijuana patients do not want to support and got on the registry to stop supporting. I personally counted avoiding purchasing on the street as one of the largest pluses to getting on the registry, and yet I see people like me being forced back there.

4) The price of cannabis on the street directly influences the costs of Medical Grade in the Dispensaries. In this respect, Cannabis is a commodity like any other, and as such is subject to price fluctuation when artificially influenced. It doesn’t really have anything to do with how much it costs to grow it and transport it to the patient. It has to do with how much it costs on the street.

What is to be done if you have no medicine? Where can you go?

There are few funds or organizations willing to help people like me get my medicine when I can’t afford it, and you have to really dig in your need to find them. When I did find them, they could only help once or not at all due to the demand. Many patients do not have the strength for this search when they are lacking appropriate medication. It took me months of daily web crawling to dig any up organizations up. Now people who wish to help provide medicine to people in this position can buy something for themselves or someone else, something they may have bought anyway and someone gets medicine.

If someone who has medicine/money wants to help a person in my position, likewise there is no way for a person who wants to help to donate money to people in a position similar to mine. Right now low income persons only relief seems to be individuals/churches/caregivers being kind. So I created this gift company, and here we are.

One church I know of is greenfaith ministry. The Reverend of greenfaith ministry is also known as the 420 Reverend. I have had contact with Reverend Brandon Baker from this organization who is a great man. He drove over 50 miles to get me some medicine for free. Unfortunately he is one man and the demand is high. Rev. B Baker is quoted as saying, “Tell the (Denver City my edit) counsel a majority amount of local churches support un-regulated access for all needy mmj patients, give them my name and number if they say they want to meet with any of the spiritual mmj community church leaders!”

Meds for free? What about Caregivers and Growers needs?
Now, I have no problem with the idea of paying for my medications… The person who grows it provides a service that a dollar amount really can’t be placed on and should be compensated, and so should everyone involved in getting the medicine to me. That is only fair. But I want know the money I spend helps others like me or at very least the movement in general. I also don’t need to be paying 50+% of my income to stay barely comfortable. I’d like to be able to pay a reasonable percentage of my income and have all the medicine my body requires. I know that may seem a little unrealistic, but a girl in pain can dream. lol

Here in Colorado it is the wild wild west right now. If I happen to have to go somewhere other than my primary caregiver, my $ will probably end up in a growing bank account of some green gold rush eyed caregiver who could really care less if I have effective medication or not. In fact, it seems like the only green anyone cares about is dollar bill green and the green of greed. Yet the right to visit a dispensary other than your caregiver is a necessary one. What happens if your caregiver loses a grow? What do you do if you need a different strain of medicine than what is available that day? What if they are out of the product that helps the most? Would you refuse to let me go to W@(m@rt if W@lgr33ns was out of my prescription?

So the government ignores the money it saves, and many (not all) of the dispensaries in the area seem to have little social conscience about the price a person like me can pay to have their medicine.

A Big social Problem, and Yet We aren’t the Issue, money is.
When your total family income is at or below poverty levels, you can absolutely be forced back on the streets to get your medicine. My medical condition requires a minimum of 1/8 oz of smoke-able every 2 days to just to keep me off narcotics and other prescriptions that do more harm than good, not crying, not having seizures caused by pain, and not be stuck in bed.

This dosing by no means keeps me comfortable it is important to note.
I have NEVER had the pleasure of having enough medicine on hand to decide on what a good “comfortable” dosing schedule would be, even though I do have a compassionate caregiver. I just don’t want to put my poor caregiver out of business taking care of my needs.

What I am trying to say is that there is something fundamentally very wrong with the fact that there are so many people who are to poor to even know what the appropriate dosage of medication for their amount of pain, yet the government is saving a bunch of cash and the Medical Marijuana industry is getting the “lion’s share” of the rest of their income.
It is frustrating to feel like you and others are falling through the cracks even further. Many in my position were barely hanging on before the economic downturn, and now see no light at the end of the tunnel. SSI/SSD keeps you far below the poverty line if you have been unable to work enough many living on $1000 a month or less for their whole family.

It is frustrating to see others get wealthy off of you and others while your tier of society starves. Sometimes I feel invisible, and I know for a fact I am not the only one out there feeling this.
Why do the out of state interests get a louder voice than ours?
I was born in the State of Colorado. My family has lived in this state for 4 generations (or more.) My grandmother owned and operated the Historic Stirrup Ranch near Canon City, Co. for many years. I love Colorado, but I live in an RV and am so desperate to be in a place where I can have food and medicine that I am willing to move to any state with a registry because the climate here is so difficult for patients right now.
I have a plan so that if I were able to obtain some land, I could be self sufficient (NO MORE SSI/SSD and I could actually contribute to charities instead of needing help from them!) and never have to worry about being hungry or without my necessary medicine. In time, many others could be helped with food and medicine grown on the land. I could be fulfilling needs rather than begging to have my needs filled.

Kiefair Keepsakes, stepping stone to a dream

My dream is to be able to get some land and set up an initial grow op in earth ships (a growing movement of building practices with an all environmentally friendly building/management philosophy.) This initial grow op would end up growing into a Nonprofit Medical Marijuana retreat/community/caregiver for patients like me to be able to get their medicine and/or live in a more affordable and kind setting, using their personal talents and abilities to benefit the community. I want to focus on what a “disabled person” can do, not their limitations. I want to create a place where it is safe to be sick on a daily basis with no fear of hunger, lack of medication, or fear of the loss of a job/home due to illness.

While I have the heart and the ability to do this work (given time and medication), I unfortunately have no capital for such a venture and am praying the universe will see fit to make it happen.
I have researched many aspects of this and it is very feasible, however getting investment in such a venture is not my forte. This kind of setting would be great tool for a “for profit” dispensary to use. It would be publicity, demonstrate social conscience, and you could also offer my nonprofit medications cheap to their own low income patients. inquire further at kiefair.keepsakes@gmail.com

I just wanna say Thanks to all the people out there helping to make it possible for people who need this medicine to have it. Whatever you celebrate this or any season, may it be meaningful and may Blessings come to you all!

footnote 1 Retrieved from the Mayo clinic website 1/12/2009
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/fibromyalgia/DS00079/DSECTION=symptoms

Copyright 2009,2o10 by Breezy Keefer, owner Kiefair Keepsakes All Rights Reserved
Please copy and redistribute with attribution of source!

hey, vote me up on miss high times please!!! 10 is high, 1 is low

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