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.
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.
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.”
A Heart Filled with love is like a phoenix that no cage can imprison ~Rumi
There is a cure for cancer and we are here to help you in your pursuit of life.
What if there is an answer to Cancer?
What if doctors already had the knowledge to cure cancer? What if that answer to cancer was a plant easily grown both indoors and out. These are not hypothetical “what if’s” There is an answer to cancer, that answer is Phoenix Tears.
What Are Phoenix Tears?
Quite simply, Phoenix Tears are a potent, concentrated form of the cannabis plant. This therapy is also known as R.S.O (Rick Simpson Oil), CannabisCure Oil, Run From the Cure Oil, F.E.C.O (Fully Extracted Cannabis Oil), Ronnie Smith Oil, Jamaican Hash Oil (like you used to get “back in the day”) Cannabis extract, or simply hash oil. Whatever you call it, it is strong medicine that cures most cancers and can treat many disorders/diseases in the body.
Have Questions? You are Not Alone…
I hope I can offer you a few answers about Cannabis Cure Oil
I get a lot of questions about Phoenix Tears Therapy from people who know very little about cannabis or the healing process with Phoenix Tears Therapy. Therefore, I have decided to provide some information here on the blog to make it easier for everyone.
If you do not know what phoenix tears are or that they cure cancer, or have never heard that cannabis oil can treat and cure a wide variety of diseases, please take time to acquaint yourself with the following information/videos. I have made every attempt to quote my sources wherever appropriate.
2 ounces of oil, eaten over a 90-day time period is the cure for most cancers. For some patients,it takes less oil/duration of therapy, for others, it takes more. If a patient can tolerate the psychoactive effects of the medication, they should eat as much as they can as quickly as they can.
As the documentary explains, cannabis grew prolifically during ancient times and is thought to be mankind’s firs cultivated plant. Whether it was ground up and used as an ancient ingredient or simply eaten whole, marijuana was thought to be a component of ancient man’s diet, as well as one of his most trusted tools. As recently as the 1940’s, the US government grew marijuana over hundreds of acres and used it to make the ropes on America’s naval warships during World War 2.
In the 1800’s, medical journals published more than one hundred articles touting the benefits and uses of marijuana. The film insists that during the days of house-call-making doctors, marijuana was a part of every physician’s medical bag. One of the most widely prescribed treatments by doctors a century and a half ago, it was used to counter complaints such as labor pains, asthma, rheumatism, nervous disorders, colic in babies and menstrual cramps.
Today, even with the limited testing allowed by the world’s governments, marijuana is inspiring new medical discoveries and unlocking the mysteries of the human body. Some of the quotes put forth in the documentary by experts in the medical marijuana field include, “This group of chemicals has significant anti-tumor properties”, “Cannabis kills cancer cells, in many cases”, “They have anti-tumor effects” and “We know that it kills cancer cells without hurting the non-transformed cells”.
The documentary goes on to remind viewers that marijuana has already been proven to have anti-inflammatory, anti-spasmodic and anti-bacterial properties – some of the most pharmaceutically-prescribed ailments in America today. The plant’s chemical effects have also proved to safely and successfully treat depression, traumatic stress syndrome, chronic pain, glaucoma, migraine headaches, multiple sclerosis, turrets, nausea and more – all without the deadly and dangerous side effects accompanying pharmaceutical drugs.
What if there is an answer to Cancer Video Playlist
At the below link, you will find a youtube playlist of pro-Phoenix Tears therapy/medicinal cannabis videos regarding cancer and other diseases for all them Marijana Men and Reefer Gurls out there as well as for all those poor souls stuck needing Gardening Tips for the Medically Damned because their bodies are falling apart. The Art of Breezy Kiefair includes the healing arts. I have been working on expanding this post to include further details and resources because the initial post was so well received. I thank you for your kind shares and likes on this post. It is my sincerest hope that this does answer some questions for people. If you have a video suggestion to add to the list, please let me know (the list is in no way complete, I am just running out of strength for the day). If you have a question that I missed, please ask it on the post so that all may benefit from whatever answer I may be able to dig up. Thanks again all my friends, fans and fiends. Virtual tokes to those who need them, and as always, have a blessed day. (added 11/1/2012)
Most of the evidence available about this amazing treatment is anecdotal, however the visual images of the healing are stunning and hard to ignore, even when it is the lowly lab mouse showing us what it can do.
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Have Questions? You are Not Alone…
I hope I can offer you a few answers about Cannabis Cure Oil
I get a lot of questions about Phoenix Tears Therapy from people who know very little about cannabis or the healing process with Phoenix Tears Therapy. Therefore, I have decided to provide some information here on the blog to make it easier for everyone.
If you do not know what phoenix tears are or that they cure cancer, or have never heard that cannabis oil can treat and cure a wide variety of diseases, please take time to acquaint yourself with the following information/videos. I have made every attempt to quote my sources wherever appropriate.
2 ounces of oil, eaten over a 90-day time period is the cure for most cancers. For some patients,it takes less oil/duration of therapy, for others, it takes more. If a patient can tolerate the psychoactive effects of the medication, they should as much as they can as quickly as they can.
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Let’s begin with a bit of my personal cancer history
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anyone else notice the big lump on the left? look just above the leaves over my shoulder. It began as a lump behind my left ear the ulcer on the top of the head has been there off and on since I was about 9 years old… it would heal up and reopen unexpectedly years later. there is a cure for cancer… how many beautiful women need butchered because doctors wanna run from the cure for the sake of monetary gain… are you curious about the cure?
I have a genetic disorder that gives me an extremely high tolerance, and I ate 4-10 grams a day for about a month and cured my cancer. VERY few individuals can tolerate that much oil that quickly. It is not going to kill you no matter how much you take (given that the tears have been made properly and no solvents remain). Most people just can’t take as much as I did and function on any level. I am a unique case on several levels, so my path and speed down that path need not be yours. You know your own body better than anyone else does (with the exception of your understanding of a creator if you have one.) You should be your own judge of what your body needs.
I am not a doctor or licensed herbalist. I am just a lady who has travelled this path trying to offer information to other people considering walking down this path of their own free will.
I fought with myself for a long time about even going to a doctor. MY FREE WILL said that a doctor visit is only a diagnostic tool…. I knew I would not be allowing any cutting… I would not be allowing any chemo… I seriously doubted I’d even submit to imaging (radiation of its own). Another part of me thought that perhaps I would find some benefit from seeing a western medicine doctor for my cancer… I have had it 3 times before… Still, it was not as if I did not know what I was in for…. I make the cure… I’m was left wondering what to do or to think about it, and it was torture for me and everyone I am connected with…. I made up my own damn mind as always (would you expect anything less?) but, took wise take counsel in many forms before coming to a decision… I hate doctors with a passion, but for the good of my sanity and those around me, I went to the doctor. He said “malignant”, and I went home to eat oil.
I began using the phoenix tears therapy in November 2011 ( 1 drop – 1/4 gram of cannabis oil per day) to aid in the agony that had been diagnosed as “fibromyalgia” (a misdiagnosis, but we will get to that part of the tale later) Even before I went in to see the doctor, I had been stepping up my dosing of phoenix tears from my previous dosing.
my mission for the day? do good and try to heal my own body (we have not gone into a doc, but the phoenix tears is pulling some “very bad things” out of me) We have not decided if a trip to see an oncologist is in order, and even if it is in order, i’m not sure i wanna go see the butchers, submit to the diagnostic torture, and fight with them about my alternative therapy choices… so is my remission at an end or not? does it really matter? the answer is the same… I live in a house that makes the cure…. So I will be doing high dose phoenix tears therapy until all these masses are gone… By the way, I have DVD copies of Run From The Cure available for anyone who needs them… I intend to hand them out free at hospitals and Run for the Cure events……
I fulfilled that mission. I have given out at least 50 free copies of the “Run from the Cure” that I had paid a company to make for me. I still have around 50 to go. Some went to dispensaries (as you would expect), some were handed out in the doctor’s office(s) I visited, others went to health food stores, some went to herbalists and naturopathic healers, some went to people I happened to speak to in the grocery store line, more went in random places where it was up to fate to decide whose hands the video ended up in… like outside of tobacco shops, liquor stores, and gambling dens.
I had to shave the back of my head to make topical application of the cannabis oil thinned slightly with olive oil an easier thing to do. I remembered a haircut that had been popular in my youth, and secure in the knowledge that my treatment would not make my hair fall out, I only shaved the back of my head. If I wore a scarf, no one could tell that the back of my head was so lumpy, uneven and working on using the cancer cure. But it wasn’t just a mass on the back of my head, I also had a mass in my left breast and small masses in various other parts of my body (along the lymphatic system’s pathways). My digestive tract was so messed up that I have lived on a liquid diet almost exclusively from March 2012-the present (although I have recently been able to eat/digest more solid food). There were a ton of other symptoms as well. It was agony. By taking the phoenix tears in very high doses, I was able to eliminate all the masses the doctors had found. They were shocked, amazed, and educated by my “miraculous healing”. They had given me about a month to live, and within that month, I made all the cancer go away using cannabis oil.
On September 24, 2012 at 10:46pm my Facebook status proudly read:
Doc says I am cancer free…. Doc said the remaining portion of the mass on the back of my head is acute muscle tension (thank you fibro). Doc says my doggie gave me a minor head injury while playing with me… doc also says I have Acute Pancreatitis and need to be on bed-rest and clear liquids for a while….. I was afraid of people showing up at the er, so I had to say it was a bud of mine and not me…. They wanted to keep me at the hospital for a few days to control the pain and ensure I was ok, but I just couldn’t handle that and I know I can get a shit-ton of things done on bedrest at home where as I couldn’t get jack and shit done at the hospital…. Thanks for the love and support guys…. I needed it and still do….
The good news is I can eat solid foods again (sometimes) and I am getting a lot more sleep than I have been capable of in years with the addition of the new treatment based on the diagnosis of Familial Mediterranean Fever.
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Even harry pot-head (i mean potter) knows Phoenix Tears have healing powers!!!
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Still Curious about the Cure for Cancer? Read ON!
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Is there a difference between Hemp and Cannabis?
Yes and no… Hemp generally refers to either the male plant or the portions of the plant used for their fiber. Cannabis generally refers to the female plant and the portions of the plant used for it’s psychoactive and healing effects.
: any of the preparations (as marijuana or hashish) or chemicals (as THC) that are derived from the hemp
and are psychoactive
Origin of CANNABIS
Latin, hemp, from Greek kannabis; akin to Old English hænephemp
First Known Use: 1783
Author’s note ~ there is so much more to know on the origin of the word Cannabis!!!
If you do your homework on cannabis well,
you should have come across kaneh-bosim (Hebrew קְנֵה-בֹשֶׂם)
The anthropologist Sula Benet did a lot of work
on the etymology of this word and it’s association
with Old Testament biblical recipe for Holy Anointing Oil given in Exodus 30:22-25.
Benet’s writings have gained modern notability[citation needed]
for her interpretations of the herb appearing in
Hebrew text as kaneh-bosim (Hebrew קְנֵה-בֹשֶׂם)
five times in the Hebrew Bible and how it
relates to the religious use of cannabis.
Kaneh-bosm is mentioned twice as part of
the holy anointing oil used in the temple,
and has been interpreted traditionally as calamus
(an herb that is known in North American shamanism
and in vedic atharva and has been discovered in
modern times to contain a molecule known as Asarone
that is a precursor of trimethoxyamphetamine, a psychedelic).
Through comparative etymology, analysis of ancient texts
(including pre-Hebrew Semitic language), a
nd pharmacological consistencies she contends that
the word kaneh-bosm actually refers to cannabis
and was used in ancient Jewish religious rites,
as a medicine and ritual sacrament.
Benet’s work claims that cannabis use has a long culturally important history,
and that the criminalization and demonization of cannabis is a recent invention
(an occurrence of the previous century compared to Torah: dating back at least 3,000 years).
While Benet’s conclusion regarding the psychoactive use of cannabis
are not generally recognized among Jewish scholars,
there is general agreement that hemp (“Kaneh”)
is used in talmudic sources to refer to hemp fibers,
as hemp was a vital commodity before linen replaced it.[1]
Benet claims that traditional identifications of kaneh bosom
do not account for hemp shirts being produced from industrial hemp,
which Benet claims is “Kaneh” in Hebrew.[2]
Benet claims that this kaneh differs from the “fragrant” or “sweet” hemp
called especially kaneh bosm, because the latter
produces much more of aromatic and psychotropic substances like CBD and THC.[2] [3]
reference url: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sula_Benet
I am grateful to live in a country that has freedom of religion. I personally believe that cannabis was out on our planet by a loving creator to enrich our lives and keep us healthy.
Is Hemp SEED oil the same as the cannabis cure oil?
NO! they are produced in entirely different methods from different parts and even different sexes of the plant!!! While I do recommend people cook with hemp seed oil whenever possible, It is not the cure for cancer. It is “health food” because its 3:1 ratio of omega-6 to omega-3essential fatty acids, which matches the balance required by the human body.
Hemp oil or hempseed oil is obtained by pressing hemp seeds. Cold pressed, unrefined hemp oil is dark to clear light green in color, with a pleasant nutty flavour. The darker the color, the grassier the flavour.
Refined hempseed oil is clear and colorless, with little flavor and lacks natural vitamins and antioxidants. Refined hempseed oil is primarily used in body care products. Industrial hempseed oil is used in lubricants, paints, inks, fuel, and plastics. Hempseed oil has found some limited use in the production of soaps, shampoos and detergents. The oil is of high nutritional value because its 3:1 ratio of omega-6 to omega-3essential fatty acids, which matches the balance required by the human body.[1] It has also received attention in recent years as a possible feedstock for the large-scale production of biodiesel.[2][3] There are a number of organisations that promote the production and use of hempseed oil.[4]
Hemp seed oil (right)
Hempseed oil is manufactured from varieties of Cannabis sativa that do not contain significant amounts of THC, the psychoactive element present in the cannabis plant. This manufacturing process typically includes cleaning the seed to 99.99% before pressing the oil. There is no THC within the hempseed, although trace amounts of THC may be found in hempseed oil when plant matter adheres to the seed surface during manufacturing. The modern production of hempseed oil, particularly in Canada, has successfully lowered THC values since 1998.[5]Hash oil, not to be confused with hempseed oil, is used for both medicinal and recreational purposes and made from the mature female flowers and leaves of the drug cannabis, thus having a much higher THC content. Hash oil should not be confused with hemp, as the modern usage of the word ‘hemp’ is reserved for plants that meet the legal requirement of containing 0.3% THC or less.[citation needed]Nutrition
The proportions of linoleic acid and alpha-linolenic acid in one tablespoon per day (15 ml) of hempseed oil easily provides human daily requirements for EFAs. Unlike flaxseed oil, hempseed oil can be used continuously without developing a deficiency or other imbalance of EFAs. This has been demonstrated in a clinical study, where the daily ingestion of flaxseed oil decreased the endogenous production of GLA.[6]In common with other oils, hempseed oil provides 9 kcal/g. Compared with other culinary oils it is low in saturated fatty acids.[7]Highly unsaturated oils, and especially poor quality oils, can spontaneously oxidize and turn rancid within a short period of time when they are not stored properly; i.e., in a cool/cold, dark place, preferably in a dark glass bottle. Hempseed oil can be frozen for longer periods of storage time. Preservatives (antioxidants) are not necessary for high-quality oils that are stored properly.
Hempseed oil has a relatively low smoke point and is not suitable for frying. Hempseed oil is primarily used as a food oil and dietary supplement, and has been shown to relieve the symptoms of eczema (atopic dermatitis).[8]Benefits
Hemp is a high protein seed containing all nine of the essential amino acids (like flax). It also has high amounts of fatty acids and fiber as well as containing vitamin E and trace minerals. It has a balanced ratio of omega 3 to 6 fats at around a three to one ratio. This won’t help correct your omega balance if it’s off, but it gives you the right balance to start with.
Further the protein content of the hemp seed is supposed to be very digestible. Many people noted their personal experience of finding that hemp seed protein did not cause bloating or gas, like some of their whey, or other protein shakes did.
And, get this, unlike soy which has super high amounts of phytic acid (that anti-nutrient that prevents us from absorbing minerals), hemp seed doesn’t contain phytic acid. At the very least, this makes hemp seed a step up from soy.
The Body Ecology Diet site has an article discussing hemp here.
It contains a list of benefits including what I mentioned above plus including some others as well.
Hemp contains:
* All 20 amino acids, including the 9 essential amino acids (EAAs) our bodies cannot produce.
* A high protein percentage of the simple proteins that strengthen immunity and fend off toxins.
* Eating hemp seeds in any form could aid, if not heal, people suffering from immune deficiency diseases. This conclusion is supported by the fact that hemp seed has been used to treat nutritional deficiencies brought on by tuberculosis, a severe nutrition blocking disease that causes the body to waste away.3
* Nature’s highest botanical source of essential fatty acid, with more essential fatty acid than flax or any other nut or seed oil.
* A perfect 3:1 ratio of Omega-6 Linoleic Acid and Omega-3 Linolenic Acid – for cardiovascular health and general strengthening of the immune system.
* A superior vegetarian source of protein considered easily digestible.
* A rich source of phytonutrients, the disease-protective element of plants with benefits protecting your immunity, bloodstream, tissues, cells, skin, organs and mitochondria.
* The richest known source of polyunsaturated essential fatty acids.
This article claims that because hemp’s protein is in the globulin edistin form it is a superior source of protein. It ends that thought with this paragraph.
“The best way to insure the body has enough amino acid material to make the globulins is to eat foods high in globulin proteins. Since hemp seed protein is 65% globulin edistin, and also includes quantities of albumin, its protein is readily available in a form quite similar to that found in blood plasma. Eating hemp seeds gives the body all the essential amino acids required to maintain health, and provides the necessary kinds and amounts of amino acids the body needs to make human serum albumin and serum globulins like the immune enhancing gamma globulins. Eating hemp seeds could aid, if not heal, people suffering from immune deficiency diseases. This conclusion is supported by the fact that hemp seed was used to treat nutritional deficiencies brought on by tuberculosis, a severe nutrition blocking disease that causes the body to waste away. [Czechoslovakia Tubercular Nutritional Study, 1955] “
Hemp oil is a “drying oil”, as it can polymerize into a solid form. Due to its polymer-forming properties, hemp oil is used on its own or blended with other oils, resins, and solvents as an impregnator and varnish in wood finishing, as a pigment binder in oil paints, as a plasticizer and hardener in putty. It has uses similar to Linseed oil and characteristics similar totung oil.[9]click here for reference information for the above hemp seed oil portion of the post
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Foods to avoid to heal Cancer more effectively:
Red meat and refined sugars are a bad idea. If you need more protein, I suggest eating raw shelled hemp seeds. Any vegetarian having trouble getting enough protein in their diet should buy some. A serving of 3 tablespoons packs 10 grams of protein! If you have a sweet tooth, try to stay away from the white sugar and any sugars that have been through a lengthy refining process. Natural sugars such as honey or molasses and naturally occurring sugars in fruit are a good option.
Red Meat
A March 2012 study from Harvard School of Public Health (HSPH) researchers has found that red meat consumption is associated with an increased risk of total, cardiovascular, and cancer mortality. The results also showed that substituting other healthy protein sources, such as fish, poultry, nuts, and legumes, was associated with a lower risk of mortality.
n 1931, German biologist Otto Heinrich Warburg won a Nobel Prize for his research into the causes of cancer. In his studies, Warburg found that cancerous tumors fueled their growth through the metabolism of glucose — digested sugar. Although some scientists rejected Warburg’s theories for many decades, recent studies have drawn connections between different types of cancer and refined sugar intake.
Insulin Resistance and Cancer
The pancreas works with your digestive system to produce the hormone insulin, which aids in the metabolism of glucose. When you eat carbohydrates, the pancreas automatically releases insulin to help break the carbs down into glucose to fuel your cells. If you are insulin-resistant and eating a diet of primarily high-glycemic foods, your pancreas becomes overworked and cannot keep up with the demand for insulin, allowing glucose to build up in your bloodstream. Insulin resistance increases your risk of several diseases, including Type 2 diabetes, heart disease and some cancers. To prevent cancer, the World Cancer Research Fund and the American Institute for Cancer Research recommended against consuming sugary beverages and snacks in a 2007 report.
Research into Specific Cancers
Many later studies have shown a direct connection between insulin resistance, high-glycemic diets and certain types of cancer. In a study of more than 2,500 women published in the “Annals of Oncology” in 2001, the findings supported a connection between insulin resistance and breast cancer development. Another study published in the “American Journal of Epidemiology” in 2006 followed 16,000 Norwegian men for 27 years and found insulin resistance to be a predictor of prostate cancer. An analysis of a study conducted in Italy from 1986 to 1992 published in the “Annals of Oncology” in 2008 drew a link between high-glycemic diets and thyroid cancer risk.
Beginning dosing of this medication is truly tiny for most individuals. The patient should eat their doses, not smoke them. I have had people who have smoked their tears out of desperation due to a lack of cannabis flowers, but it does not do you nearly as much good to smoke it. If you are in severe pain, the lungs can be the fastest way for the medication to begin to ease it, but this method does not offer the deeper levels of healing that eating it can give you.
Tears made properly have been through a process known as decarboxylation that makes the compounds within the cannabis plant more easily used by the body’s endocannabinoid system when ingested. Be careful not to overheat your medication either. You lose your active compounds if you cook with too much heat. Never store your cannabis oil in the sunshine, though it does not need to be refrigerated (it actually becomes too thick to get out of the oral syringe if it is too cold…) if your meds won’t flow from the syringe, try putting upright in a cup of warm water for 10-15 minutes. Be sure the syringe opening is pointing towards the ceiling You don’t want the hassle of trying to reclaim your tears from the cup of water)
Beginners should ingest 1/2-1 grain of rice sized dab of oil 2-3 times a day. Doses must be increased with the patient’s tolerance.
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How many grams to a milliliter of phoenix tears oil?
I do NOT recommend people be on the oil and chemotherapy/radiation at the same time they are on the oil. When people do that, the oil spends all its time repairing the damage that the chemo/radiation caused within their body and does not seem to fight the cancer as effectively (takes more oil and a longer duration of therapy if they are determined to keep up with the “big pharma” solutions.) I have seen people who made the choice to stay on chemo and they still got better on the oil… It is all a matter of free will in the end.
I guess the point of that is: Don’t make the oil’s job any harder than it already is by introducing more poison into the system.
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Side Effects of the oil?
Some patients find it a bad idea to take the oil on an empty stomach (usually people who have issues with SEVERE nausea anyway). Those patients should take their doses with a meal. Some patients find the taste undesirable For those patients, I recommend either putting the oil in a vegetable capsule (almost any vitamin shop or health food store carries empty ones) or they could put the dose on a piece of bread and swallow it like a pill.
Most patients start with a dab of oil that is about the size of a grain of rice (and for some people, even that is too potent because they dislike the psychoactive effects… those individuals begin on 1/2 of a grain of rice sized dose)
This dose should be taken 2-3 times a day until the patient begins to notice a drop off in the psychoactive effects and/or a drop off in the ways the oil had been helping.
For many patients, they notice a drop off in the appetite stimulation at this point. When the patient reaches this treatment plateau, you begin increasing the dose amount (within the patient’s tolerance for the oil/psychoactive effects)
The goal is to reach a total weight of one gram per day. The syringes I fill are clearly marked with 1ml graduations. 1ml=1.2 grams of oil.
Some patients have experienced visual hallucinations on this medication. This can be quite unnerving the first time it happens, however most of the patients I have dealt with describe very pleasant “trips” such as sitting on a cloud and speaking with their creator or having the feeling of balls of light invading the body and healing them. Hallucinations tend to happen more often in older patients and in patients who have no prior experience with cannabis (never even smoked a joint). If the patient finds the hallucinations uncomfortable or wants to avoid the experience, reduce dosing until a tolerance is built.
Some patients find they will run a fever off and on during the therapy. Often it is localized to the area where the cancer is (warm to the to the touch) I am a firm believer in letting a fever run it’s course unless it gets to a level where it is dangerously high {about 104 for adults or sustained 102 (constant not up and down) for a few days….} and even then there are plenty of non-big pharma ways to lower the temp…. several herbs do the trick well…. there are even plenty of non-chemical ways to lower a dangerous fever. Most people reach for the tylenol if they are even a degree above what they think they should be… they are damaging their liver and not even giving their immune system the benefit of the purpose of a fever… to help your immune system get rid of whatever invader it is responding to. click here for wikipedia article on fevers
This medication is psychoactive and there is really no way around “feeling high” while you are on it. People who hate the psychoactive effects should take their largest dose of medication primarily at night when they want to sleep anyway. Caregivers should be aware of a fall hazard to the patient. Some people it makes a bit unsteady on their feet, especially when getting up for the bathroom at night. For males with this issue, I recommend a bedside urinal to reduce the danger of a fall. Same solution works for ladies (a bedpan) but fewer women are willing to use a bedpan than men are willing to use a urinal.
If you are ingesting cannabis oil that has been made properly at all, You WILL test positive for cannabis use on any drug test. Most regular cannabis smokers know that you will test positive for weed for about 30 days after smoking it. It is important to note that the 30 days rule of thumb DOES NOT APPLY TO CANNABIS OIL. Those who have ingested cannabis oil (particularly at high doses) could test positive for cannabis in a drug test up to 90 days after the treatment has stopped.
What Solvent to use?
What solvent you use to create your cannabis oil is very important. If you are thinking of making your own oil, please take the time to educate yourself on the benefits and risks of any solvent you are thinking of using.
I recommend use of food grade alcohol and nothing else for beginners (because the solvent is already food grade, it is good for beginners who are learning the method… that way, IF any solvent is left behind due to inexperience, it is still safe to consume. Those proficient with use of alcohol as a solvent may then begin using isopropyl alcohol 91% (rubbing alcohol) once they have learned to tell when no solvent remains. If you use a still, you can reclaim your solvent for reuse to cut down on costs.
There have been cases of people eating cold water extracted hash or kief and seeing benefits as well. You just have to eat a higher volume of those substances because they are in a less concentrated form.
Someone actually said to me….. ” Butane is so safe,it is used in food with no label”
Is that why I (and many others) cannot tolerate butane extracted hash? is that why it makes my body ache every time I smoke it? again… I will follow my common sense and you follow yours….
“Despite its usefulness, butane is also a toxic chemical. Inhalation of the gas can lead to drowsiness, narcosis, cardiac arrhythmia, frostbite, and death from asphyxiation, acute toxicity, and ventricular fibrillation. Butane inhalation is the most common single cause of solvent-related death. Thus, butane needs to be handled with care.” http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Butane
Please also be sure to read the commentary on both versions of this video. I kindly call it a debate, but anyone who reads it will see that I have taken a great deal of heat for educating people to the dangers of using the petrochemical naphtha to create cannabis oil.
This oil will stain fabric and just about anything you get it on. It can be very difficult to clean up when spilled. ISO alcohol is the best method I have found to clean up spills and messes. It does not always take stains out of fabric (time is of the essence in treating those stains), but it is excellent for cleaning up spills just about everywhere else. Syringes I provide have a toothpick in the opening of the syringe that MUST be removed prior to pressing on the plunger to get your dose. Keep that toothpick in the syringe when not actually taking a dose to reduce medication loss. You should also release some of the pressure on the plunger (by pulling it back out some post dose time) every time you use it for the same reason. Putting oil in capsules, and the capsules in a pill bottle is the most effective way I have found to dose “on the go” (while the patient is away from home, i.e. out running errands).
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Ronnie Smith taught me how to make the oil. Mr. Smith has been making the Cannabis oil for 6 years and has seen over 250 of his patients be cured by this amazing plant gifted to the animal kingdom by the loving creator responsible for us all. Mr. Smith of marijuanaman.com provides the following information sheet to his patients.
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Hemp Oil Dosage Information
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It takes the average person about 90 days to ingest the full 60 gram treatment. I suggest that people start with 3 doses per day about half the size of a grain of dry rice. A dose such as this would equal about ¼ of a drop. After four days at this dosage, increase your doses every four days until you are at the point where you are ingesting about 1 gram in 24 hours, so each dose should equal 1/3 of a gram.
It takes the average person about 5 weeks to get to the point where they can ingest a gram per day. Once they reach this dosage they can continue at this rate until the cancer disappears. A gram is 1.2 milliliters.
By using this method it allows the body to build up its tolerance slowly, in fact, I have many reports from people who took the oil treatment and never got ‘high’. We all have different tolerances for any medication. Your size and body weight have little to do with your tolerance for hemp oil.
Be aware when commencing treatment with hemp oil that it will lower your blood pressure, so if you are currently taking blood pressure medication, it is very likely that you will no longer need it.
When people are taking the oil, I like to see them stay within their comfort zone, but the truth is, the faster you take the oil the better the chance of surviving. At the end of their treatment most people continue taking the oil but at a much reduced rate. 6 to 12 grams a year would be a good maintenance dose. I do not like to see people overdosing on the oil, but an overdose does no harm. The main side effect of this medication is sleep and rest which plays an important role in the healing process. Usually, within an hour or so of taking a dose, the oil is telling you to lay down and relax. Don’t fight the sleepy feeling, just lay down and go with it. Usually within a month, the daytime tiredness associated with this treatment fades away but the patient continues to sleep very well at night. The only time I would recommend that people start out with larger doses would be to get off addictive and dangerous pain medications. When people who are using such medications begin the oil treatment, they usually cut their pain medications in half. The object is to take enough oil to take care of the pain and to help the patient get off these dangerous pharmaceutical drugs. Taking the oil makes it much easier for the patient to get off these addictive chemicals.
I simply tell people the oil will do one of two things; it will either cure your cancer or in cases where it is too late to affect a cure, the oil will ease their way out and they can at least die with dignity. Hemp oil has a very high success rate in the treatment of cancer; unfortunately many people who come to me have been badly damaged by the medical system with their chemo and radiation etc. The damage such treatments cause have a lasting effect and people who have suffered the effects of such treatments are the hardest to cure. It should also be mentioned that the oil rejuvenates vital organs like the pancreas. Many diabetics who have taken the oil find that after about six weeks on the oil that they no longer require insulin since their pancreas is again doing its job. Properly made hemp medicine is the greatest healer on this planet bar none. Once you experience what this medication can do you will understand why history and I call hemp medicine a cure all.
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A bit of Cancer poetry for thought…
To Whom It May Concern I was run over by the truth one day. Ever since the diagnosis I have been this way So burn my body with radiation Tell me lies about cancer.
Heard the alarm clock screaming with pain, Couldn’t find myself so I went back to sleep again So fill my veins with Chemo burn my body with radiation Tell me lies about cancer. Every time I shut my eyes, all I see is pain. Made a little ribbon to remember all the names So empty out my bank account fill my veins with chemo burn my body with radiation Tell me lies about cancer.I hear they are thinking surgery, hope it’s not my brains. They’re only cuttin wishes and feeding casket sales So numb my brain with Morphine empty out my bank account fill my veins with chemo burn my body with radiation Tell me lies about cancer.Where were you at the time of the crime? Ripping up the hippocratic oath, just to make a dime? So chain my Life with hopelessness numb my brain with Morphine empty out my bank account fill my veins with chemo burn my body with radiation Tell me lies about cancer
You put your doctors in, they take their conscience out, They take the human being and they twist it all about So take my world away chain my Life with hopelessness numb my brain with Morphine empty out my bank account fill my veins with chemo burn my body with radiation Tell me lies about cancer–
how many beautiful women and men need to be butchered
because doctors want to run from the cure
for the sake of monetary gain?
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Thinking of beginning on this therapy for yourself or a loved one? Please be sure that the patient and the patient’s caregiver have seen the “Run from the Cure” movie and are willing to ingest cannabis.
If you are looking for a safe medication, look no further than what the hemp plant can provide. On top of all that it’s a medicine we can all grow and produce ourselves. Also there is no need for a doctor’s supervision with its use.
When the hemp plant is grown for medicinal use, you now have your own medical system that is much safer and effective than anything our current medical system provides. You still may require a doctor to set your broken leg, but you will no longer need the chemicals they have been pushing upon us.
Hemp is medicine for the masses and no one has the right to control its use. We are all different and we all have different tolerances for practically everything. So it is up to each and every one of us to determine for ourselves how much oil we require to maintain good health.
Over the years people have come to me who after years of treatment by the medical system did not even have a diagnosis for their conditions. But the oil exercised its amazing healing power and their medical problems were solved.
Another aspect of the use of hemp as medicine is its anti-aging properties. As we age, our vital organs deteriorate and of course this impairs the function of these organs.
Hemp oil rejuvenates vital organs even in small doses it is very common for people to report to me that they feel 20 to 30 years younger after only ingesting the oil for a short time.
Now let’s take it to the next level. What about people who ingest larger quantities of oil over a longer period of time like myself? After 9 years on the oil my body does not appear to be that of a 60 year old man. Instead, my body has the appearance of someone who is a great deal younger. When I have the oil at my disposal I like to take about a quarter of a gram a day. Of course, due to short supply, quite often I must go without so my own treatment has been erratic to say the least.
From my own experience with the oil I cannot help but wonder what would happen if a person was to ingest larger quantities of oil over a longer period of time. If a person were to do this, can they actually reverse the aging process and grow younger instead of aging.
From the oils effect on my own body by all appearances this seems to be the case. Someday soon when I have enough oil I intend to start taking a gram a day for a year to see what effect it has on my body.
Many people who have taken the oil have stated that they thought it to be the fountain of youth. From my own experiences with the oil I believe this to be true.
I make oil/give away oil and even sell oil, however, I DO encourage everyone to learn how to make their own medicine. That being said, I understand that not everyone has the desire or strength to make the oil for themselves.
is a group on Facebook. It is full of knowledgeable individuals who have seen the healing that can come from this therapy. Often, people have to hide the fact they are on this treatment for fear of persecution/prosecution. Cannabis Oil Success Stories gives people on the therapy a forum to share information and to help each other get through any bumps along the road during therapy. They lend support to both patients and caregivers who are embarking on this Cannabis Healing Journey.
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This medication is very effective when used topically Please take a look at these stories!
I must admit that I have not updated you all on this story in FAR too long. I must also admit that all I was truly able to do for this ulcer is to prevent it from becoming overly dangerous to a very resistive patient. I could have achieved more success had I been able to convince Fat Freddy (the patient) to stop wearing his suspenders. I believe that the wound began as a pressure sore from those suspenders, and as long as he continues to wear them, he will continue to have a sore there. During my prolonged illness this summer, I had someone else take over his wound care. Initially, they did not follow instructions or treat his wound and within a few weeks, his shoulder looked like the “before” images in the below video. When therapy resumed, his wound resumed the healing process and was back to the level of healing it had been when I last provided documentation. I have a few videos and images that have been piling up on this story, however due to the patient’s stubbornness, I have little faith that this wound will ever truly heal. What can be done is continuing the therapy and preventing a major infection in a geriatric body.
This is a patient under Mr. Ronnie Smith’s care. Mr. Smith runs marijuanaman.com. The video was created by the patient and the audio track was added by Ms. Breezy.
Cannabis cured David Triplett’s skin cancer. The above video is his story.
It has been proven that concentrated cannabis extract oil cures cancer.
Why hasn’t The U.S. National Cancer Institute or The American Cancer Society tested Cannabis Oil?. Is it lack of personnel (2,100 USNCI staff members) or limited financial support (USNCI 2010 budget of $5.1 Billion dollars!)
Cannabis Concentrate or extract is the same as Rick Simpson’s “Hemp Oil”. Hemp seed oil is NOT what Rick Simpson is making and using.
Google “cannabinoids” and “cancer”.
Google “endocannabinoids” and “cancer”
Google “THC” and “Cancer”.
Google pubmed, go there and look up “endocannabinoids” and “cancer”, as well as “cannabinoids” and “cancer”.
*****Note, in the interest of full disclosure, David Triplett is not my personal patient. His story is so powerful that I felt the need to include it here with this information.
This is a patient under Mr. Ronnie Smith’s care. Mr. Smith runs marijuanaman.com
A Note from Breezy on Seizures If you have seizures, strain choice can make a big difference. For some patients with seizures, a concentrated form of cannabis is not even necessary when the right strain choices of flowers for smoking are available. Generally, any strain from the white widow branch of the cannabis family tree is a good choice. Please view the Cannabis products and Colorado Dispensary Reviews Page here on kiefair.com for more information on strain choice for epilepsy and several other conditions. Check the description of the videos for more information.
“I hope you are in the mood to be showered with praise. I want you to hear what YOUR medicine is doing. Mom outlived her prognosis. She is feeling as healthy as a horse. Labs are great. Tumors have shrunk even more. There is NO new metastasis. Doctor doesn’t know what to think. This is shaking him up a bit. He says her chemo would not do this and even if it did, there is no way she could be this healthy. Breezy you are a true gift from God!”
~anonymous daughter of a cancer patient
This is a patient under Ms. Breezy Kiefair’s care. Ms. Breezy runs kiefair.com
back injury patient…. the injury has long since healed as far as it wants to, but the pain has stuck around for them making work/day to day life difficult. She had this to say regarding their night spent sleeping with a gram of phoenix tears oil in a capsule…..
“I slept like a rock last night only after spinning like crazy. Think that was a little too much even for me! Had the worst case of cotton mouth ever and I think I am still feeling the effects. just got home from cleaning my aunts bathrooms woo that was an easy $50”
~anonymous back pain patient
This is a patient under Ms. Breezy Kiefair’s care. Ms. Breezy runs kiefair.com
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On Use of Phoenix Tears to Treat
Severe Pain or Chronic Intractable Pain
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Higher dosing may be necessary for those with severe pain. Dosing for Intractable pain can match that of a cancer patient (a gram a day), and in some cases even exceed it. Remember folks… your nervous system can only send so many pain signals to the brain before the brain senses an attack/danger of some kind. Your brain may not understand in the least what the threat is or where it is coming from… enough pain=physiological responses to a threat in the brain. Once the threat is sensed, it turns on our most primitive parts of the brain out of sheer survival mode…. when someone is bathed in adrenalyne because of their pain, they are not really themselves any more… there is a primitive auto-pilot in the captains chair that doesn’t give a damn about logic or reason or anything other than mitigating the threat it thinks is there because of all the pain signals. Real Niacin (not niacinamide) can help circumvent this cycle, but only if you can tolerate the flushing (remember itching powder you could put in someone’s drink? remember how it said it was harmless? that is because it was niacin)
This also explains why people can be exhausted, weak and seemingly unable to even rise out of bed one moment, and then when that adrenaline kicks in… why, you’re a screaming banshee with all the energy you could possibly need to destroy yourself and those you love around you? I try to channel it into things like getting caught up on cleaning, or directing the anger/passion somewhere (anywhere) it is more deserved than on my loved ones….. if that means crafting a letter to the government telling them what’s up or if that means telling someone that really needs to hear it in a powerful way what the causes their actions are having… I try to direct all that adrenaline into more positive places when it happens, but it is such a negative feeling that it is really easy to loose track of the fact that there is no real threat other than the ones coming from your own central nervous system…
In some cases, all that can be done is to ease the passing of a dear friend with the only mercy you can find. Sometimes the cure just gets there too late to do much more than ease the pain of passing away. Sometimes people are just too stubborn and wait too long to begin treatment. Other times, the knowledge of this treatment remains elusive to the patient or their loved one’s attention until there just isn’t enough time left for the oil to work. We had a pet owner recently who valiantly tried to save his best friend’s life (his dog). Duke the Cancer fighting dog may not have had the “happy ending” we were all hoping for, but it did make the end of life less painful for this dog. We also got word that after the pooch no longer could use the medicine, his human companion was able to use the oil and see the benefits in his own body. Sometimes it’s a mixed blessing like that. This is a joint patient under Mr. Ronnie Smith and Ms. Breezy Kiefair’s care. Mr. Smith runs marijuanaman.com and Ms. Breezy Kiefair runs kiefair.com
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Gramps’ Cannabis Oil & Cancer Journey
*****Note, in the interest of full disclosure, “Gramps” is not my personal patient. His story is so powerful that I felt the need to include it here with this information.
from the healing files of Auntie Debi Phillips “I am so sorry I haven’t got back to you. First the hand: fantastic. Almost totally healed, after the first treatment with the oil all inflammation was gone infection was almost cleared up, I aired it all day then just washed it & re-bandaged it . I had had an allergic reaction to the lasik they used & had a bad red burn around I that hurt. The next morning it was gone, burn healed. The scar tissue that had formed before oil had been so tight I could hardly move my thumb, after the oil it became elastic again & I’ve been able to move my thumb again without pain. Yesterday the skin graft they put on it fell off & the wound looks fantastic. Going to treat with oil again & a sore the Dr. Wants to remove when I go next time on my elbow. I don’t want to have it cut on like this one so if I treat it now I’m praying when he scraps it again this time there won’t be any cancer cells this time & when he wonders why I am handing him educational material, maybe he will convert or at least be receptive.
I am so grateful for saving my hand. I really believe if you hadn’t sent the oil I wouldn’t be able to use my thumb & first finger. I’ve also been working as secretary where my life partner works as a mechanic. I have two more spots of skin cancer. I”m gonna take pictures of before & during treatment & the end results also.” (Debi is breezy’s adopted auntie)
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What is the bottom line if you desire to make the oil yourself or are unable to make it?
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It takes one pound of cannabis to create 2 ounces of oil. For those who are financially secure, the price for the cure is $2,000. The smallest amount I can sell is one oral syringe of oil for $500. 1 oral syringe = 12 grams of treatment. 12 grams is about 1 month’s worth of medicine for the beginner. It takes 5 syringes (2 ounces) to cure most cases of cancer.
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Free Phoenix Tears???
I have a free phoenix tears patient to patient program for those who are low income or out of the treatment temporarily.
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Unfortunately, demand for the free oil is so high that (as I type 10/29/12) I am looking at a month before that line even moves, I do triage people based on severity of illness and financial need for the free list. Please remember that I provide these mercies out of my own pocket. Donations of raw materials or monetary support are few and far between. When they happen, I am grateful. When support is absent, I still try and find a way to serve those in need regardless of ability to pay.
Some people get angry at me during the wait-list period not realizing that I am trying to help as many people as possible with as little as possible… even going unmedicated myself at times to do it… I really hate dry times like these… I try and remind myself and others getting low on patience that I do this out of my own pocket… no one (on any sort of regular basis) donates raw materials to me to get these mercies done.
No matter how much i wish to heal sick people, there have been some I had to harden my heart to because they became abusive… Now, I can understand better than most how pain can turn you into a monster…
If people are able to act like adults later and make amends, my heart softens… if not, then i just have to close the door to contact and feel guilty… (i have taken more than my fair share of abuse in this life already.. verbal and otherwise… and I cannot continue to do this work if I do not set firm boundaries with individuals like this)
To those of you mature enough to stick around for the long haul, I’m saying how much I appreciate working with people like you who see the larger picture. looking like a month or so before the list begins to move again… and cancer waits for no man woman or child. For these cold realities, I apologize.
Free Program and ALL OIL REFERRALS through this site closed as of March 2013 through Kiefair.com due to change in author’s circumstances! I will update if I begin to offer them again. I do still offer informational consultations.
There is a cure for cancer and I am here to help you in your pursuit of life.
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i’ve done a lot of time walking with the creator to get from where I was to where I am now…. that’s what faith can do… even if i am a ball of drama 99% of the time because of my past…..
I have been long winded (as always), and for that I apologize.
I’d like to speak to Colorado for a moment and it’s voters…. I feel I must leave you with the following thoughts regarding how you cast your vote on the Amendment 64 issue in a few days.
For the record, I STILL do NOT SUPPORT COLORADO CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT 64 Corporate Greed IS NOT LEGAL WEED! Vote NO on Colorado State Constitutional Amendment 64! (or at least read the damn bill and see how corporate minded it is and then make up your mind…. don’t listen to the pamphlets or the tv spots… trust your own reasoning after reading the LANGUAGE you are making yourself subject to!)….. Read the bill and think about who they wrote the bill to benefit… their own freaking pocketbooks, that’s who… read the text of the AMMENDMENT (provided in red letters at the link https://kiefair.com/2012/04/15/colorado-canna-relief-or-cannabis-like-alcohol-you-decide/ ) and then decide how to vote… don’t just think “YAY legal weed” and vote… you’re not getting what you think you are babies!
The bill that is written to serve those who already have money (dispensary owners wanting to convert to party stores to sell to recreational users and stop dealing with us “difficult” sick people). If you read the bills closely, it is really easy to see whom they were written to serve…. the Campaign to Regulate Marijuana Like Alcohol serves those already deep in the industry and keeps the grows in corporate hands…. I believe the recreational users should be allowed to grow. It’s just a plant….. When people see the shackles and chains
slapped on them by this bill in reality (the words put into practice) people are going to be just as pissed about these regulations as they are about the regs under hb-1284/sb-109
Effective January 1, 2012, the Registry will no longer accept Food Stamp and Supplemental Security Income letters as proof of low-income status.
Patients with a household income that is 185% of the Federal Poverty Level or less, qualify for fee waiver. The chart below indicates the annual household incomes, adjusted for family size, that qualify.
Household incomes at 185% of 2012 Federal Poverty Guidelines*
# in Family
Annual Income
1
$20,664.50
2
$27,990.50
3
$35,316.50
4
$42,642.50
5
$49,968.50
6
$57,294.50
7
$64,620.50
8
$71,946.50
Each Additional
$ 7,067.00
Source: Federal Register, Vol 75, No. 17, January 26, 2012, ppl 4034-4035
*Poverty guidelines are updated periodically in the Federal Register by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services under the authority of 42 U.S.C. 9902(2)
To apply for a Fee Waiver/Tax Exempt Status, patients must:
1. Request a certified copy of their most current State tax returnfrom the Department of Revenue. Tax returns must be within the last two years to qualify. Patients can request a certified copy of their tax return by completing form DR-5714 ‘Request for Copy of Tax Returns’ available atwww.colorado.gov/cms/forms/dor-tax/dr5714.pdf. The form must be completed, notarized and sent to the Colorado Department of Revenue for processing.
2. Complete form MMR1010 Request for Fee Waiver/Tax-Exempt Status.1010.pdf.
3. Send the Request for Fee Waiver/Tax-Exempt Status form and the certified copy of the most current State tax return with the patient’s application.
4. Patients who already have a Medical Marijuana Registration Card, may submit form MMR 1010 and a copy of their certified State tax return to have their card status modified to “Tax Exempt.”
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. Image by: The Art of Breezy Kiefair for the Reefer Gurl Facebook page
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as always, thank you for your time and attention in reading this. If you found it useful or of value please share it with your friends. Did I miss something you think needs covered? Please comment in a respectful manner or message me so that the issue has been brought to my attention.
~ Do all that you can to cultivate peace within yourself, that it might
shine out from you, and plant the seed of peace in other spirits, for them
to cultivate.~{Remember… it is when we choose act on the issues that are in front of
our faces, when we choose to get involved instead of looking the other way
as our fellow man struggles, when we choose to take those small simple
little actions, working on righting little wrongs in our everyday lives that
really make change happen, those seemingly small actions are what really
make the world a better place and are a catalyst for greater social change.}
~Both quotes by Breedheen “Bree” O’Rilley Keefer~
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Always remember you can tell what a person really believes in by their actions… your actions prove to all the world who and what you bow down to in this life… Your actions tell people what your free will wants far louder and more plainly than your words ever could… When you are gone, those same seemingly small actions will give you exactly what you deserve.. to quote a long forgotten bit of poetry I read once on a faded newspaper clipping in a children’s reader from the 1860’s “how will men remember you when that you are gone… the little things you say and do, they shall linger on.”So I ask each of you to take a good look inside your own heads, hearts, spirits and souls and ask yourself… who do you serve? do you serve only yourself and ignore your fellow man? We all have areas we need improvement…. If you look in there and find your actions are not showing what is in your heart, then maybe it’s time to change your behavior to be more in line with the light shining within you however you choose to understand it….. that being said…. have a blessed day fully in line with your own free will and heart….
~Breedheen O’Rilley
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, ConstitutionalistMike 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 heads. And 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.
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