Mack White

The Pythons and the Raccoons

2012-02-01T14:48:00.006-06:00

I woke this morning from a terrible dream. In the dream, a Burmese python was in the house. I don’t know how it got into the house, but there it was, a monstrous spotted, slimy thing winding its entire slithery length throughout the house.

My wife and I started trying to herd it into an empty room. We didn’t want to touch it, so we poked and prodded it with sticks, but the damned thing was impossible to move. Then, when it finally started moving, it wasn’t due to our prodding—no, it had seen the cat and was going straight for her, licking its snake lips with its forked tongue.

“Grab the cat!” I screamed to my wife—and woke up … and lay there a long time, thinking about the dream.

I knew right away what caused it: a news story I read yesterday about how pythons have taken over the Everglades and are eating every small animal in sight, with the result that raccoons, opossums, and other animals are disappearing from their native habitat.

Thinking about it now in the darkness of my bedroom, with that awful, lost, desolate feeling you only get when it’s 3:30 in the morning and you’ve just had a nightmare, I thought: My god, at the rate these pythons are eating, they’ll soon run out of food. Why, before you know it, they’ll leave the swamps and find their way into people’s backyards and start eating small children … if they haven’t already …

We’ve got to feed them something else, I thought. Various politicians came to mind—also Goldman Sachs executives, Monsanto executives, TSA agents, and such. All would make fine snake food ...

I got a good laugh out of that, but in a little while the desolate 3:30-in-the-morning feeling returned and I was thinking about the pythons again, and the desperate plight of the raccoons, bobcats, opossums, and deer.

Oh, what a perfect metaphor for our world today, I thought. We are the little critters of the Everglades, and the politicians and corporate criminals and bullying cops—all the predatory scum that have taken over our world—are the pythons.

We, the little critters, scurry about, trying to stay one step ahead of the pythons, trying to make a living, trying to pay our taxes, pay our mortgages, our insurance bills, grocery bills—yes, and try to stay out of trouble, too, but that’s not easy, with more and more new laws being passed each day, more and more unreasonable, police state insanity ruling our lives.

You meekly take off your shoes at the airport, but they confiscate your prosthetic leg. You dutifully pay your mortgage, but they take away your home. You obediently get out of the car when the cop tells you, but he tasers you anyway. You try to eat the right things, try to stay healthy, but they poison your air, food, and water anyway—and, adding insult to injury, outlaw your vitamin supplements.

And we, the raccoons, wonder, “When did the pythons take over our pretty forest? Where did these horrible creatures come from? And why, oh why, do they feed on us—and how will we ever get rid of them?”

The raccoons scratch their heads with their little fingers, trying to figure it all out—trying to decide what to do. Then, one day, one of them says, “There’s more of us than there are pythons. And if we get the opossums and bobcats and all the other animals to join us, we could easily pounce on the pythons and claw and bite and destroy them!”

So, the raccoons take the idea to the opossums. But the opossums aren’t so sure it’s a good idea.

“Might be safer to lay low,” say the opossums. “Find a hole inside a tree, and wait them out—wait till all the pythons leave. And they will, you can count on that. They’ll get tired of eating us and go somewhere else. Just you wait.”

Next, the raccoons take the idea to the bobcats. But the bobcats have bought into the pythons’ propaganda.

“The pythons keep us safe from terrorists,” say the bobcats. “That’s why they swallow us sometimes. Why, there’s no place safer than a python’s belly when terrorists are on the loose!”

Next, the raccoons try the deer, but the deer are too stupid to understand. “Pythons?” they say. “What pythons?”

So the raccoons hold a meeting. “Mic check!” one of them shouts, and this is what he says (repeated by all the others so those in back can hear): “The opossums and the bobcats and the deer aren’t with us on this revolution idea. That’s too bad, because the bobcats are good fighters, and the deer can do a power of damage with their horns and hooves. But there’s still enough of us to stage some kind of protest. It’ll have to be non-violent, of course—peaceful disobedience. Yes, some of us may get eaten in the process, but just you wait, when the other critters see, they’ll join our noble cause—and then we’ll win. Anyway, what have we got to lose?”

So the raccoons, bravely, decide to occupy the pythons’ breeding ground. Whereupon the pythons attack and eat many raccoons. The carnage is terrible, but most raccoons escape—and just as predicted, the opossums and bobcats begin to sympathize with the raccoons. Some even talk about joining the raccoons' movement.

The pythons, concerned by this change in public sentiment, decide to use their greatest weapon: propaganda …

“We will visit the other animals,” says the leader of the pythons, “and spread fear among them. We needn’t bother with the deer, because they’re too stupid to be any kind of threat. But the bobcats and opossums are another matter …”

So the pythons slither off to see the opossums. The opossums, never having seen so many pythons all at once, are frightened out of their wits. They hide inside their little cubbyholes and listen as the python leader says, “See how many of us pythons there are? There are more than enough of us to eat every last one of you. But if you are good, and stay here, and do not join the raccoons, we will leave you alone. We promise.”

The opossums, shaking with terror, quickly agree.

Next, the pythons visit the bobcats. The python leader says, “We have warned you there are terrorists in the forest. Yet we have never told you exactly who the terrorists are. We have not told you, because we were not sure ourselves. But now we know: the terrorists are the raccoons. We caught them gathering en masse—‘occupying,’ as they call it. But in fact they were preparing to attack you. That is why we attacked them—to protect you. But there are too many of them for us to defeat on our own. We need you to help us. We need you to attack the raccoons …”

So, the bobcats attacked the raccoons, and tore them limb from limb. Those few raccoons who managed to escape were eaten by the pythons … and when it was all over, and the raccoons were all dead, the pythons feasted on the bobcats.

Then, they went back to the opossums, and luring them out of their hiding places with more sweet promises, ate every last one of them.

Then, having eaten all the other animals, they went to the deer, grazing peacefully in the depths of their stupidity, and ate every one of them.

And that, my children, is how the raccoons and the opossums and the bobcats and the deer all disappeared from the Everglades …

A dark fable, yes—perhaps too cynical, too pessimistic—dark thoughts, the kind of thoughts you have at 3:30 a.m., when you know that somewhere, outside, there are pythons on the prowl …

Thank God for the Renegade

2011-11-04T10:28:00.012-05:00

During the American Revolution, a great portion of the population were Tories and remained loyal to King George. But when it was safely over, they celebrated July Fourth with everyone else.

This was true later in the the Texas Revolution. In the days leading up to the revolution, William Travis, Sam Houston, and the rest were denounced by many Texians as hot-heads, crackpots, and renegades. If they’d had the term “conspiracy theorist” in those days, they would probably have used that one too.

Then Santa Anna marched on Texas, slaughtered hundreds of men at the Alamo and Goliad—and when the dust and smoke had cleared, and Texas was free, these ex-Tories named cities and counties and schools after the very patriots they had previously condemned.

When I was growing up in North Texas, decades ago, nearly all the people around me—the adults, people I was supposed to respect—supported two things: Segregation and the Vietnam War. They thought these things were good and right and ordained by God, and they looked with contempt on those who sought to end racial injustice and the war.

I remember how they laughed when civil rights demonstrators were fire-hosed in the streets of Birmingham. “That’ll teach those niggers,” one man said in the barber shop one day. “And if that don’t do it, a bullet in the head’ll do the trick.” And every man in the barber shop knodded and grunted with agreement.

And I remember how they lauded Lt. Calley as a hero, and spoke approvingly of the My Lai massacre, and how when four students were gunned down at an anti-war demonstration at Kent State University, they spoke approvingly of the National Guard and Nixon, and said, “Those draft-dodging hippie queers deserved it.”

And now surfaces another memory, something more personal, and so painful that for a long time I didn’t like to remember it. And still don’t, really. But here it is …

Shortly after the Kent State killings, a woman walked into my father’s newspaper office, almost doubled over in laughter. She had just seen the funniest thing on the news: a large group of construction workers, 200 strong, had broken up an anti-war demonstration on Wall Street. With great relish, she described how the “hard hats” (as they became known) “grabbed those hippies by their long hair and beat the tar out of them …”

“And as soon as they’d beat up one bunch,” she cackled, “they’d go back and beat up some more!”

Everyone in the office was laughing and lauding the “hard hats” as heroes, including my father. Everyone except me.

To fully appreciate what happened next, you must understand that I was 16, painfully shy, and totally lacking in self-confidence. I had never openly expressed an opinion contrary to my father’s, nor had I ever spoken to an adult with anything less than respect.

But, on this day, as I sat there listening to this woman and everyone laugh and laugh, my throat began to tighten. And suddenly—to everyone’s surprise, including my own—I jumped up from my desk and screamed, “That’s not funny! They’re not heroes! They’re just bullies and creeps!”

Today, I would give a better, more articulate, speech, but at 16 that was the best I could manage. Oh, how often I've wished I could go back in time and revise that speech, but it’s too late now ...

At any rate, articulate or not, the speech had its effect. The office went silent, and everyone—there were several people present, the woman, my father, the girl who worked the front desk, a city councilman, and two or three others I don’t remember—they all turned and stared at me in horror.

I was horrified too, mortified by what I had just said. I bolted from the front office and ran back to the darkroom. And locked the door. I knew I was in Big Trouble.

I sat there a long time, ashamed of myself, and crying. Any moment my father was going to appear, and it would not be a pretty sight.

After a long time, the door knob turned. But the latch kept the door from opening. This was followed by a light knocking. On the other side of the door, I heard my father say, “Mack?”

It was no use trying to avoid him. Sooner or later I would have to face the consequences. Sick with dread, I got up and let him in.

“Sit down,” he said.

I sat back down on the stool.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I was too choked up too reply.

He put his hand on my shoulder. Which made me cry harder, I think, than if he had taken off his belt. I managed to choke out the words, “You’re not mad at me?”

He was silent for a long time. “Oh I’m mad at you all right,” he said. “That outburst of yours happened in front of one of our best advertisers.”

I buried my face in my hands, wanting to die.

“But,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I’ll say this. You stood up for what you believe in, and I guess I respect that.”

Then he walked away.

My father didn’t magically transform from a Hawk into a Dove that day. He continued to support the war, at least for a while. Then, as I got closer to draft age, his support for the war began to waver. One night shortly before my 18th birthday, he said, “If worse comes to worst, we’ll send you to Canada.”

As it worked out, I didn’t have to go to Canada. The draft ended before my lottery number came up, and shortly afterwards the war itself ended.

My father’s opinion changed, yes, but most of the older people I knew—the Silent Majority, as Nixon called them—supported the war till the bitter end. But, when the war was over and South Vietnam had fallen to the North, you could not find a one of them who had ever supported it.

“I always knew that war was bad,” one of them said later. “Knew it from the start. We never should’ve got into it.”

As Mark Twain wrote, “In the beginning of a change the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot …”

PsiOp TV: OCCUPY AUSTIN DAY ONE, Video by Mack White

2011-10-09T14:22:00.002-05:00

PsiOp TV 7-17-11

2011-07-28T09:27:00.002-05:00

PsiOp Radio #149 (7-17-11), in which Mack and SMiles discuss "Good Mind Control" as invented by Superman Red and Superman Blue.

PSI-OP TV: Come and Take It, TSA Rally - 6/4/11

2011-06-04T23:03:00.003-05:00

Video by Mack White
A PsiOp TV Production

Highlights from a day of protest at the Texas State Capitol: teachers protesting budget cuts, the Thomas Jefferson dance party, and the "Come and Take It, TSA" rally. Speakers at the rally included Rep. David Simpson and my good friend Jack Blood.

The dance in the rotunda was briefly interrupted by an alleged assault which occurs at the 1:10 mark. I have been told that the incident occurred when a man (wearing glasses in the video) attempted to take a camouflage flag away from one of the dancers.

Look Up, Hannah

2011-06-03T09:53:00.002-05:00

From The Great Dictator:

Schulz: Speak - it is our only hope.

The Jewish Barber (Charlie Chaplin's character): Hope... I'm sorry but I don't want to be an Emperor - that's not my business - I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another, human beings are like that.

We all want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the earth is rich and can provide for everyone.

The way of life can be free and beautiful.

But we have lost the way.

Greed has poisoned men's souls - has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.

We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in: machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little: More than machinery we need humanity; More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair".

The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die [now] liberty will never perish...

Soldiers - don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you - who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you as cattle, as cannon fodder.

Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines. You are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate - only the unloved hate. Only the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers - don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty.

In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written " the kingdom of God is within man " - not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you, the people.

You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let's use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They do not fulfil their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfil that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.

Soldiers - in the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Look up! Look up! The clouds are lifting - the sun is breaking through. We are coming out of the darkness into the light. We are coming into a new world. A kind new world where men will rise above their hate and brutality.

The soul of man has been given wings - and at last he is beginning to fly. He is flying into the rainbow - into the light of hope - into the future, that glorious future that belongs to you, to me and to all of us. Look up. Look up."

Thomas Jefferson is spinning in his grave ...

2011-06-01T18:23:00.002-05:00

I'll say it again: Freedom is dead in America. It's over. We can no longer fight to keep our freedoms. Now we must fight to get them BACK.

It won't be easy.

He Was a Friend of Mine

2011-05-30T23:49:00.003-05:00

Late night Memorial Day 2011, looking back over the years. So sad the way it all turned out. God help us all ...

"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable."--John F. Kennedy

Memorial Day Thoughts: Malintent and You

2011-05-30T19:45:00.003-05:00

Forget the naked body scanners. The TSA will soon have a new toy to torment you with: FAST, a system to scan Americans for “malintent” (AKA “pre-crime”). DHS plans to use it in airports, shopping malls, and special events. No doubt there will be a great many false positives—innocent people identified as terrorists. You may be one of them. Is this the America our soldiers fought and died to protect?

I think this “malintent” technology should be used on all politicians, government officials, and other assorted Nazi swine. Sample questions:

“Do you intend to steal elections, conduct dirty tricks, and otherwise subvert the political process?”

“Do you intend to destroy the Bill of Rights, militarize the police, and set up Stasi-style citizen-spy programs?”

“Do you intend to wiretap, follow, harass, detain, and murder political activists?”

“Do you intend to gut the public school system and other social services while stealing trillions of dollars outright from the American people?”

“Do you intend to let Big Oil and other big corporations poison the environment, kill and deform our children, and make the entire planet unlivable?”

“Do you intend to set up torture camps worldwide, carry out assassinations, false-flag operations, illegal biological experiments, and commit genocide around the globe?”

Yeah, plenty of “malintent” on the part of the government—and not just intentions, we’re talking outright actions here—much of it performed right in the open for all the world to see—yet we’re the ones standing around like jackasses with our shoes off at the airport letting uniformed cretins stick their blue-gloved hands down our pants.

And now they’re going to set up mind-reading stations, of all things, to study OUR intentions!

Oh, and did you notice how one of the questions they ask you in the FAST station is whether or not you’re going to record anything. So, illegally recording a Lady Gaga concert is terrorism now? What a load of horse manure.

I’m surprised there’s not more outrage over all this. But I guess the frogs have been boiling too long by now to notice, and anyway it’s safer to get excited over “American Idol” or the Super Bowl than to care about something that really matters …

Well, that's my Memorial Day message. Sorry if it's a downer. Too bad all those brave service men and women died in all those wars for nothing. But it's the truth, so you better get used to it: Freedom is dead in America. Kinda' makes you choke on that Memorial Day hot dog doesn't it?

TSA Abuse

2011-05-27T07:50:00.002-05:00

Texas Tales Illustrated: The Revolution - Official Trailer

2011-03-04T12:04:00.001-06:00

VIDEO REPORT - Mack White: Snow in Austin

2011-02-04T15:08:00.002-06:00

Video: People Outraged by TSA Abuse

2010-12-09T06:03:00.001-06:00

Big Sister’s WalMart Video: America Sounds Off

2010-12-08T06:07:00.004-06:00

Comments on the Department of Homeland Security’s YouTube page appear to be unanimously opposed to Big Sister’s WalMart Video. Below are a few of my favorites …

How do we report the Government ????? I'm suspicious Their trying to take away are Freedom.Terrorist were created by Government Foreign Policies.Its called Blow-back,Janet your a Idiot.Well i know you didn't sleep your way to the top!!!You probably had to threaten someone to marry you.This Dictatorship isn't any different then the last.C.I.A enraged the terrorist and they turned their hate toward us,now we suffer.Get out of the middle east and they will leave us alone.

…

Welcome to Stasimart. Please enjoy your shopping experience and remember to spy on your fellow American otherwise Al-CIA-duh will get you.

You might want to pay for your items in cash since it is now known that the Stasi aka U.S. Government now admits it tracks peoples credit card use in real time.

Source is Wired dot com. Just search for Feds Warrantlessly Tracking Americans’ Credit Cards in Real Time.

~ Freedom is just an illusion ~

…

What a piece of shit! God, I can't stand her! Is it male or female?I love how the back drop looks like chemtrails.

…

You are the ugly face of tyranny! Resistance is victory and you will be defeated!

…

Everything about Wall Mart is suspicious. Wall Mart is like a alien invader that is trying to be all stores in one. Wall Mart is attempting to morph all the various shops in to one deal. Auto shop, paint store, hunting store, sports store, grocery store, hardware store, clothing store, drug store and what ever else in to one store. See the David Dees art at Rense . com

…

She and the people in gov that are pushing this kind of shit need to die and now.. What a waste. These people are supposed be representing us (the American people), not some f'd ip agendas. Be gone Obama and people like this and all the others. Wake up people

we are people tired of being lied to, tired of working for nothing, tired of having what little we do have stolen from us.......if they want to put me on a list for that .....then fuckem i dont care..............

…

People please wake up to the Police State! I am sure we are all on a list now for typing on this you tube video.

…
she could be on duty outside walmart, when someone came up on a bike she could sniff it to see if they wiped there ass good

…

I report that the banks are stealing everybody's money and livelihoods!

(LINK TO DHS YOUTUBE PAGE)

We can only hope that the above represents majority opinion, although I doubt it. My impression of most Americans is that they would lick a dog’s ass if the government told them it would keep them safe. I hope I’m wrong. Otherwise, all is lost and we are goose-stepping into a grim future …

From a PropagandaMatrix.com article:

As America sinks deeper into a militarized police state, society begins to parallel more and more aspects of Nazi Germany and other historical dictatorships, especially in the context of citizens being turned against each other, which in turn creates a climate of fear and the constraining sense that one is always being watched.

One common misconception about Nazi Germany was that the police state was solely a creation of the authorities and that the citizens were merely victims. On the contrary, Gestapo files show that 80% of all Gestapo investigations were started in response to information provided by denunciations by “ordinary” Germans.

“There were relatively few secret police, and most were just processing the information coming in. I had found a shocking fact. It wasn’t the secret police who were doing this wide-scale surveillance and hiding on every street corner. It was the ordinary German people who were informing on their neighbors,” wrote Robert Gellately of Florida State University.

Now the federal government is urging Americans to "denounce" each other at Wal-Mart. Are we seeing the beginnings of President Barack Obama's promised "civilian national security force" that would be just as powerful and well funded as the US military?

Gellately discovered that the people who informed on their neighbors were motivated primarily by banal factors – “greed, jealousy, and petty differences,” and not by a genuine concern about crime or insecurity. Indeed, history tells us that any Stasi-like society does nothing to increase genuine security and only turns the host population against each other while decaying the country from within.

Gellately “found cases of partners in business turning in associates to gain full ownership; jealous boyfriends informing on rival suitors; neighbors betraying entire families who chronically left shared bathrooms unclean or who occupied desirable apartments.”

“And then there were those who informed because for the first time in their lives someone in authority would listen to them and value what they said.”

Gellately emphasizes the fact that the Germans who sicked the authorities on their neighbors knew very well what the consequences for the victims would be – families torn apart, torture and internment in concentration camps, and ultimately in many cases death – but they still did it with few qualms because the rewards of financial bounties and mere convenience were deemed more important to them.

This strikes at the root of the selfish and childish urges the government is trying to manipulate in getting people to report on their fellow Americans. The self-important feeling of being listened to, ascribed some temporary sense of authority, and the cult-like pavlovian reward of being metaphorically patted on the head by someone in a uniform, are all tendencies such campaigns play on.

However, if we don’t want to end up in a society that exists in a constant state of tyranny and fear as in Stasi East Germany or Stalinist Russia, we must learn that our neighbors and friends are not our enemies, and that the only real threat against which we need to unite is an oppressive state that tries to destroy us by turning us against each other.

This role has now been undertaken by Big Sis and the Department of Homeland Security, which is actively finalizing the invasion and total takeover of American society, using tools and programs that every single odorous dictatorship in modern history has resorted to - checkpoints, interrogations, strip-searches, training the people to spy on each other, guilty until proven innocent. Each and every facet betrays a country in terminal decline and one that will end up as a decrepit, lifeless, authoritarian cesspit, forever confined to the slagheap of history as just another example of how a civilized, cultured and prosperous society allowed itself to be destroyed from within by fear at the hands of a gaggle of jackbooted thugs.

(LINK TO FULL ARTICLE)

A Few More Thoughts on Janet Napolitano's Walmart Video

2010-12-07T16:51:00.003-06:00

I’m guessing the video plays in a loop, over and over. It’s less than a minute long, so by the time you’ve been standing in the checkout line, say, 5-10 minutes you would have heard it quite a number of times. Plus it would be replicated at all the other checkout lines, Janet Napolitano’s face in miniature everywhere you look, exhorting everyone to be suspicious of everyone ...

The effect would be quite unpleasant, I imagine—and bad for business. If I were a Walmart manager, I wouldn’t want the video playing in my store, night and day, seven days a week, scaring the customers, driving away business ...

Employees would suffer more, of course. Prolonged exposure to the video can’t be good for you. Someone should have tested it on lab rats first before recklessly inflicting it on the public in this fashion …

Unstable individuals will almost certainly be pushed over the edge. People who are already paranoid, irrational, with a fragile grip on reality, will go stark raving mad with Napolitano’s message looping over and over in their heads, warning them to be on the look-out for—what exactly?—some vaguely defined, yet imminent, terror threat somewhere in the store …

As a result, paranoiac attacks will become common. It will no longer be safe to go to the store. Anyone might accuse anyone at any time of any kind of crime, and decide to mete out vigilante justice on the spot. One moment you’re shopping for a lawn mower, the next moment some maniac has buried a garden tool in your throat. It could get ugly …

No, definitely not good for business. And the video will probably not result in much useful information either. Police—and store managers—will have their hands full following up on every off-the-wall terror tip and screwball lead reported by the dimwits, boneheads, lamebrains and gibbering morons that, unfortunately, make up a large portion of the population of our great republic. This video is bad news, any way you look at it …

You know you're living in a police state when ...

2010-12-07T10:53:00.001-06:00

... you tell yourself it's all bad dream, then you wake up--in a detention camp!

Walmart Shoppers on the Front Lines of Defense against TERROR

2010-12-07T05:45:00.005-06:00

Coming soon to a Walmart checkout line near you ...

This reminds me of the time I caught Uncle Dan bothering the sheep. "Uncle Dan," says I, "if you keep bothering them sheep, Aunt Bessie's gonna' find out and be jealous." Uncle Dan says, "She won't know if you don't tell her." So I told her and she put anthrax in his cocaine.

You learn a lot growing up on a farm, and most of it--like this video--is complete manure ...

A Day in the Life of a Police State

2010-11-27T12:47:00.002-06:00

I read the news today, oh boy ...

Homeland Security shuts down dozens of Web sites without court order

Zodiac actor placed on terror list for opposing oil drilling method

Willie Nelson arrested for pot possession

Man charged for covering head during police beating

TSA worker accused of assault did jail time for stalking, harassment

The TSA and America’s Turning Point

Tip of the Spear

Who is Sir Real?

2010-11-22T14:13:00.002-06:00

Who is Sir Real?

Find out here.

A READER WRITES

2010-11-22T13:13:00.006-06:00

A READER WRITES: Your wesite [sic] about John Lennon is crazy. You are brainwashed. The CIA is a radical Leftwing organization. The only brainwashing organizations were located in Communist countries. ALL of the CIA operations were run in Communist countries.

What really happened is that the Communist Party wanted Lennon to be their spokesperson here in the US. He was associated with Communist Jews the like of Abby Hoffman and Jerry Rubin

The FBI threatened to Deport Lennon or put him in Jail because associating with Communists here in the US is Illegal. So Lennon after this little talk with the FBI cut his ties with the Communist Party USA and they saw him as a traitor to there [sic] cause and brought in the MK Ultra assassin Chapin [sic] to kill him. You need to study some U.S. history before you create these zany websites

CIA a radical Left Wing organization? Associating with Communists illegal? Only Communist countries practiced brainwashing? There is not one true statement in your idiotic email. You didn't even get the assassin's name right. You need to learn some US history yourself before you go writing these zany emails. Better yet, don't write at all. Don't poison my In Box with your pearls of wisdom again. "Communist Jews" indeed. Get lost.

Don’t Touch My Junk, Bro

2010-11-22T10:14:00.002-06:00

When did it ever happen in the entire span of human history that a government required its citizens—people who had committed no crime and were simply traveling from one place to another—to have their breasts and genitals handled by government employees?

Americans and freedom lovers everywhere have always dreaded the words "Your papers, please," but … “Your penis, please”? Who would have thought such a thing would ever happen?

Of course, you can avoid the new “more invasive” pat-downs at our nation’s airports by simply submitting to the new body scanners. It is only a virtual strip search, they say, not the real thing. But does a real strip search dose you with potentially deadly radiation?

Fortunately, there is hell being raised about this matter; people are outraged, and rightly so, and as a result we may see some changes in airport screening procedures. And that will be good. But I am afraid that, when that happens, everyone will breathe a sigh of relief, congratulate themselves for getting the government to listen, and then roll over and go back to sleep.

What they should do, though, is ask themselves, how did we get here? What kind of government does this sort of thing to its citizens?

I’ll tell you what kind of government does this sort of thing: it is the kind of government that aids and abets the theft of trillions of dollars from the American people, it is the kind of government that says torture is good, the kind of government that sends your children to die in a war based on a lie, the kind of government that indiscriminately slaughters innocent civilians in foreign lands, the kind of government that systematically destroys freedom with fascist legislation such as the Patriot Act—and commits these evils under the pretext that it is for your “safety.”

Do you feel safe living under such a government? I don’t.

Let’s face it. The old America is dead. In its place we have the American Empire, a criminal state that is directly responsible for the most of the misery in the world. Until now, this criminal state has done the greater part of its dirty work overseas, in places such as the Middle East, Latin America, and Southeast Asia. But now it has bringing these evils to its own shores, to the “Homeland” where all the ugliness originated.

The criminals who run our government are doing this because now they have come to regard us—the American people—as the enemy. They hate our freedoms, you see. Our right to protest, our right to say no to corruption and morally bankrupt wars—that right is a great impediment to the further evil they wish inflict upon this earth. That is the kind of government we have; that is the kind of government that routinely requires ordinary citizens to submit to strip searches and sexual molestation simply to travel. The Romans didn’t do that. The Soviet Union didn’t do that. Nazi Germany didn’t do that. The United States alone holds that dubious distinction.

When the government backs off on these airport “security” regulations, there will be a great temptation to fall into complacency. Once we no longer have to worry about having our genitals fondled by thugs, other outrages to freedom—such as background checks and credit checks for the “privilege” of flying—will seem less intrusive, when in fact they are at least as intrusive and damaging to human dignity.

Also, while people have been distracted by all the news coverage of the TSA outrage, they may have missed a few other headlines, such as the fact that last week the Senate approved a bill that effectively allows the Attorney General to shut down any website. That should outrage you as much as the sexual abuse at airports.

We are marching headlong towards fascism; in fact, the case could be made that we are already there, that for the moment we are still being to treated to the charade that we are still free, that it is just a matter of slowly conditioning the public to the grim reality of what America has become—and that certain things, such as the new “security” requirements at airports are part of that conditioning process, or at least a test to see just how much the American public is willing to accept to “keep us safe” before taking it to the next level and presenting us with a full-fledged Police State in all its unhidden hideousness and horror.

Thank God, people are not accepting this latest outrage, and as a result the government may retreat. But it will only be a retreat. The criminals who run this government have no intention of surrendering the war—the war they have declared on us. They still fully intend to enslave us and turn this country into a Hell on Earth.

And yet, there is hope. The outrage expressed over the TSA matter is evidence that we—as in We the People—can still draw the line and get the government’s intention. There are far more of us than there are of them, you see, which is why they hate and fear us so …

But, again, do not let this glimmer of hope allow you to fall into complacency. You must ask yourself, what kind of government would even attempt to implement such a thing as we are seeing at our nation’s airports?

I still believe there is a window of opportunity to stop this march towards fascism, but I am afraid that window is rapidly shrinking. You must make the decision now, while you are still outraged over this TSA matter, that you will continue the fight. Will you? Will you say, “I don’t care about the terrorist threat. I will not be manipulated by fear. I will not be fondled at the airport, and I will not take off my shoes either. Furthermore, I will not let the government shut down the Internet. Nor will I let the government torture and kill people and use my children as cannon fodder. I will not let my government do one more evil thing, even at the cost of my life.”

You must make that choice now. Decide now whether or not you want to live as sheep for the slaughter or as free, self-respecting human beings. You must decide now, because you’re running out of time. The clock is ticking; soon it will not be possible to resolve this matter peaceably, and oh, how you will wish you had done something while you still could.

In the words of Winston Churchill, “If you will not fight for the right when you can easily win without bloodshed; if you will not fight when your victory will be sure and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have to fight with all the odds against you and only a small chance of survival. There may even be a worse case: you may have to fight when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish than to live as slaves."

Randy Quaid and the Hollywood Mafia

2010-11-07T13:28:00.003-06:00

Organized crime has been a fixture in Hollywood almost since the beginning; extortion, embezzlement, union corruption, murders disguised as suicide (Thelma Todd, George Reeves, Marilyn Monroe), and all manner of criminal activity are unfortunately grim realities of the film industry. Hollywood looks pretty on the surface, but wow, does it ever stink when you stir it up ...

Only Washington surpasses Hollywood in sheer rottenness—although to tell the truth, it’s not always clear where one leaves off and the other begins. Yesterday's action star is today's governor. Comedians testify (in character) in Congress. Politicians marry movie-star trophy wives. It goes on and on ... Hollywood overlaps with Washington as surely as the CIA overlaps with the Mafia, TMZ celebrity gossip overlaps with Time-Life Mockingbird media, and government propaganda overlaps with entertainment. And it is in that nexus where starlets, politicians, paparazzi, mobsters, banksters, shysters, fixers, dirty cops, G-men spooks and goons and stinkbugs of every description dwell and everybody has their price—in that netherworld, anything can happen, and does.

And now comes a genuine Hollywood star, Randy Quaid, saying he’s on the run from mobsters … and people think he’s crazy?! Good Lord, this is only the latest chapter in a sordid saga that goes all the way back to the Thirties, when the repeal of Prohibition left mobsters high-and-dry, looking for other useful work they could do. Turning their eyes westward, they saw Tinsel Town where lo and behold, film unions were ripe for the corrupting and stars were just asking to be blackmailed and fleeced. So began the Hollywood Mob connection, and anyone who thinks it all ended with the deaths of Mickey Cohen and Johnny Roselli, is very mistaken or living on the Moon …

Quaid’s allegations are not farfetched at all. And yet, with the interesting exception of his ABC and CBS interviews, the coverage of this story by Big Media has almost entirely been spun to discredit Quaid and his wife. The news stories typically start with the premise that the Quaids' allegations can’t possibly be true, therefore the Quaids must be crazy—hence the suggestion they are suffering from a rare shared psychosis known as “Folie a Deux.” It was the “vivacious” blonde-bombshell Beverly Hills marriage counselor Dr. Michelle Golland who first offered that diagnosis to the tabloid press, and now it is being trumpeted by all “respectable” news agencies everywhere as the only possible solution to the Quaid conundrum. But the fact is that the Quaids’ allegations fit quite plausibly within Hollywood’s larger history as a haven for racketeers, a smorgasbord of rich clueless celebrities just waiting to be feasted on by wolves.

How will the Quaid matter play out? If it follows the story arc of the Cliff Robertson-David Begelman scandal of the late Seventies, some of the truth will come out and Quaid will get some of his money back. But he’ll be blacklisted for years, and as for his alleged nemesis Lloyd Braun: he'll remain a major powerbroker for a while, then end up another Hollywood suicide. Maybe. Or maybe not …

There are big differences between this and the Robertson scandal. The Quaids are not only alleging embezzlement; they’re alleging murder, and mind control, and also pointing the finger at the celebrity gossip industry as an extortion racket and form of psy-ops designed to keep stars in line and the public confused. But the gossip industry is too big and profitable to kill, and strange deaths of entertainers—be they Brian Jones or Marilyn Monroe, Jimi Hendrix or George Reeves—are never reinvestigated on an official level. Yes, the financial part of the Quaids’ allegations may be proven in court, but the truth behind the deaths of David Carradine, Heath Ledger, and Chris Penn, if different from the official versions, will enter the realm of movieland lore and stay there, three more unsolved Hollywood mysteries that will of course make great films someday.

And yet, in Hollywood, anything is possible. This is definitely a story to keep an eye on …

SMiles Lewis and I will be discussing these and other aspects of this fascinating story—the underreported facts behind it, as well as the possible larger implications—tonight on PsiOp Radio. We start live at 7 pm Central, you may listen via http://www.psiopradio.com …

New Publications: HOTWIRE #3 and NEWAVE

2010-03-22T09:42:00.007-05:00

Two new publications featuring my work have just been released ...

The first is Hotwire 3, the latest volume of Fantagraphics' critically acclaimed anthology, featuring Mack's latest story "Roadside Hell" and new work by 23 of today's top underground cartoonists. Read more about Hotwire at the official Hotwire site and order it from Amazon CLICK HERE ...

Also new from Fantagraphics ... Newave: The Underground Mini Comics of the 1980s, 900 pages of classic early work by Mack White, Roy Tompkins, Mary Fleener, and 50 more great artists. A limited number of copies signed by Mack are available at $30 each, postage paid. Payment may be made by Paypal. To order, CLICK HERE ...

And Now A Word from Art Acevedo

2009-09-18T15:45:00.007-05:00

We awoke to a loud noise this morning in Austin. It shook the very ground. At first I thought it was a thunderclap. I looked up into the sky. But no, the sky was clear.

Then I thought it might be an explosion, a terrorist attack or something. But no, it wasn’t that either.

What was it?

It was the sound of Austin Police Chief Art Acevedo stamping his little foot and saying he’s not going to take it anymore.

What's got his panties all in a tangle? Quoting from the Austin American-Statesman:

Austin Police Chief Art Acevedo says he and some of his officers have been harassed, lied about and had their identities falsely used in online blogs and in reader comment sections on local media Internet sites.

They've had enough.

In a meeting this month with department brass, Acevedo and the group discussed how they think such posts erode public trust in the department and how they have been wrongly maligned.

They have since researched their legal options and decided that from now on, they might launch formal investigations into such posts, Acevedo said. He said investigators might seek search warrants or subpoenas from judges to learn the identities of the authors — he thinks some could be department employees — and possibly sue them for libel or file charges if investigators think a crime was committed.

"A lot of my people feel it is time to take these people on," Acevedo said. "They understand the damage to the organization, and quite frankly, when people are willfully misleading and lying, they are pretty much cowards anyway because they are doing so under the cloak of anonymity …"

The first thought that comes to my mind upon reading this is that the Austin Police Department does so good a job damaging its own reputation it needs no help from the public. I mean, why should anyone post an idiotic comment under Art Acevedo’s name when he makes enough idiotic comments on his own?

Here's another thing that concerns me ...

The Austin Police Department solves roughly 12% of all reported crimes. That's not so good, but it's better than zero percent, which is what it will be with the cops spending their time and resources tracking down people who write mean things about them.

Just for the record, I've never written anything anonymously in my life. All my criticisms of the cops, politicians, and what-have-you have been written and published under my own name.

But now I'm thinking that might not be such a good idea. It might even be dangerous. Cops are so crazy these days you never know what they might do—and Art Acevedo in particular is so sensitive ...

Why, if he were to read this blog, there’s no telling what he might do. He might even hit me with his purse.

I can't take the chance. Therefore, I'm signing this blog post as…

Your obedient public servant,
Art Acevedo

PsiOp Radio #87

2009-09-07T11:21:00.002-05:00

Click the above to hear (and watch!) last week's show. Thanks to our friend Floyd Anderson for posting the show with the great visuals.

SMiles Lewis and I took a break this week from the show to celebrate Labor Day, but we'll be back LIVE next Sunday, 7 pm Central, on American Freedom Radio ...

"He Didn't Break Nothin'" - Update on Taser Story

2009-06-09T19:26:00.004-05:00

Update on the Travis County Taser Story:

Sgt. Major Gary Griffin, Travis County Constable’s Office Precinct 3, applauded Deputy Chris Bieze's actions by saying he “didn't break nothin’.” (LINK)

You got that? Bieze didn't break nothin'. That's good. I'm glad he didn't break nothin'. We're all glad. Would've been too bad if he'd broke somethin'.

When Griffin said this, he was making the point that the woman should be glad Bieze used a Taser instead of a nightstick. People get hurt by nightsticks, you see, whereas it don't hurt people none at all hardly to get hit by a Taser, nor break nothin' neither.

It is revealed in the same story that Bieze is the Taser instructor for Precinct 3. Presumably, then, as the precinct’s resident authority on Tasers, he is aware of the potentially harmful effect of sending 50,000 volts of electricity into the neck of an elderly woman, to say nothing of the injury she might have suffered falling to the ground.

Yet he did it anyway!

You will recall that, earlier in the confrontation, Bieze shoved the woman—shoved her so hard it knocked her backwards a step or two, and could have easily knocked her down and broke somethin'. This was done for her safety, Bieze later said, to get her away from the traffic.

Which sounds dubious to me. Is this how you would have ushered an elderly woman away from traffic. Take the test below to compare your handling of the situation to the way Deputy Bieze handled it. It’s multiple choice, so it should be easy …

(1) You’re a cop. You’re trained to deal with the public. You pull over an elderly woman for speeding. She’s upset, refuses to sign the ticket. You order her out of the car. Once she’s out of the car, you realize you need to usher her away from the traffic for her safety. You have three choices. You can: (1) calmly explain why she needs to move and gently place your hand on her shoulder, (2) scream in her face and punch her violently in the shoulder, or (3) stick your thumb up your butt, waddle back to the squad car, and cram another donut into your fat swinish face.

(2) You’re a cop dealing with an upset elderly woman. You’ve just made the situation worse by screaming at her and shoving her. You’re also the precinct’s Taser instructor. You know that Tasering an elderly woman could cause cardiac arrest or that she could hurt herself and break somethin' in the fall. Faced with the dilemma of how to get her to comply with an order, you have four choices. You can: (1) Taser her anyway and hope you don’t break nothin’, (2) use your nightstick and hope you don’t break nothin’, (3) stop barking orders and try using the calm tone of voice one usually uses when dealing with agitated, elderly, or infirm persons, or (4) radio headquarters with your immediate resignation and get a job more suited to your abilities, such as shoveling shit at the dog pound.

(3) You’re a cop. You have just Tasered a 72-year-old grandmother. All the bad choices in your miserable, worthless, futile, pointless, rotten life have led up to this unfortunate moment. What can you do now to redeem yourself? You have three choices. You can: (1) render aid to the screaming injured woman who for all you know, might've broke somethin’ when she fell, (2) continue to bark orders and threaten her with more Taserings even though it is now impossible for her to move, or (3) take out your Taser, pull down your pants, and shoot yourself in the ass, you fucking idiot.

Roadside Torture: Official Policy of Travis Co. Sheriff's Department

2009-06-09T13:48:00.003-05:00

I defy anyone to watch this video and give me one good reason why Travis County Deputy Chris Bieze was justified in Tasering a 72-year-old grandmother during a traffic stop.

Yes, she was argumentative. Yes, she failed to comply with the officer's order. But does this justify use of the Taser?

Originally, Tasers were intended to be used by police only in situations where a gun might otherwise be used--that is, in situations where lives might be in danger. Rule of thumb: If a situation doesn't require a gun, it shouldn't require a Taser.

And yet, increasingly, police are using the Taser not in dangerous situations, but simply to enforce compliance.

In the video, the situation is under control at first. Then the woman refuses to sign the speeding ticket. This, of course, is her right.

Deputy Bieze then orders her out of the car. This is his right.

She argues with him, which may not be smart, but it is her right.

Bieze responds by screaming in her face and shoving her backwards. This is not his right.

Later, he will say he shoved her for her own safety, to get her out of the traffic. But it is quite apparent that the shove was not kindly meant.

You know the kind of shove. It is the same shove that has started many a bar fight—a hard shove, a bullying shove, ugly, vicious, violent, and mean, nothing nice about it.

And it escalates the situation, of course. The woman gets angrier. So angry that she gets in his face, saying, “You’re gonna’ push me? A 72-year-old woman?”

This, by the way, is her right. She has been physically assaulted by this "man," and is well within her rights to object, whether the bully who shoved her is in uniform or not.

A few minutes pass, during which time Bieze talks on his radio. She stands there quietly, arms folded. Bieze orders her to stand back. She continues to stand right where she is, arms folded. Again, not a good idea, but is it a threat to the officer’s safety? Of course not.

Bieze next tries to grab her arms in order to handcuff her. She pulls away. Again, not a good idea, but is it a threat? No, it is not. This isn't a 35-year-old, 200-pound maniac high on PCP. This is a 72-year-old woman pulling away, not attacking. Only the most pathetic, sissy-pants baby could feel threatened in this situation.

Bieze threatens her with the Taser. She dares him to try it. Again, not a good idea, but again, no credible threat to the officer's safety.

In short order, Bieze removes the Taser from his belt and zaps her—a great-grandmother, mind you—with enough electricity to send her flying backwards to the ground.

And then, while she’s lying there screaming, Bieze orders her once again to put her hands behind her back.

Now, perhaps, until now you've seen some justification for Bieze's actions. But where is the justification now? How is she still a threat? And how, exactly, is she going to obey the order while she is paralyzed with pain?

Between screams, she manages to choke out the words that she cannot comply with the order, and somehow—by a miracle of God, I guess—this maniac Bieze manages to get a grip on himself and decides to stop torturing her.

Which is a good thing, because a lot of cops don’t stop Tasering someone after they’re down. They’ll keep on and on Tasering three, four, five, six, a dozen, fifteen, twenty times, until they get tired of it, or the victim dies.

Is this the kind of society we want? A society that sanctions the roadside torture of elderly women for not following orders?

It's not the kind of society I want, but apparently it's what the Travis County Sheriff’s Department wants, because in the video a department spokesman actually defends Bieze’s actions.

This tells us all we need to know about the Travis County Sheriff's Department: roadside torture is official policy and everyone—even little old ladies—are fair game.

This does not make me feel safe. In fact, I think we would be safer without police if this how they serve and protect.

Sneak Preview: "Roadside Hell"

2009-06-03T19:38:00.008-05:00

A sneak preview of my latest story, "Roadside Hell," coming soon in Hotwire 3 from Fantagraphics ...

Best of PsiOp Radio: What a Police State Doesn't Look Like

2009-06-03T11:49:00.003-05:00

(Wow, looking at this video and the photo of me, I realize how huge I was last year in London when that picture was taken. Would you believe, I've lost nearly 50 pounds since then? It's true. Fifty pounds is a lot of hamburger meat to carry around. Suffice to say, I feel better and look better--and I owe it all to the No-Alcohol Diet. Which I recommend to anyone.)

Best of PsiOp Radio: Talking about Torture

2009-06-03T11:46:00.000-05:00

Return of the Son of the Bride of Blog Monster

2009-06-03T09:27:00.003-05:00

Just thought I’d step into the blog for a moment and open the windows, air the place out, sweep out some of the dust and cobwebs.

Wow, it’s been a while. Haven’t posted anything here since January

Is anyone still checking this blog? I know a few people are because they’ve written asking if my health issues are the reason for the state of suspended animation this blog has been in the past few months. The answer is yes, to some degree.

The phlebotomies don’t incapacitate me, but I do have less energy, therefore can’t do as much as before I started the treatment. So, with a big, new, full-color comic on the drawing board the past few months, something had to be set on the backburner and it was the blog, unfortunately.

However, over the last few months, I did manage to microblog on Twitter. But anything longer than 140 characters, no.

I also managed to carve out time from my schedule for PsiOp Radio on Sunday night—and a good thing. Listenership has increased and the show has gotten better and better. We’re carried on American Freedom Radio and enjoying our association with those fine folks.

If you can’t catch our show live, go to the archives. Also, you can hear “Best of PsiOp Radio” excerpts on YouTube now. I’ll post those here shortly.

Also, coming up soon on this blog will be a sneak preview of the big comix project that’s kept me so busy: “Roadside Hell.” It will be published in the next volume of Hotwire, due out later this summer, I think. I’ll find out the exact publication date and post it here.

Something else I did recently was sign up for Facebook. I was able to post a few things (mainly status reports about how god-awful hard I was working), but now have the time to have more fun with Facebook. Looking forward to it.

Also looking forward to my next project, which I’ll talk about later. I’ve made a commitment to myself, however, that I’m going to work at it on a more reasonable pace than I did this last project. No more all-nighters. No more nervous exhaustion—which I’m still feel a little, three days later. NOT FUN. Never again. I should be taking better care of myself than that, and will.

That’s all for now. I gotta' take my Vitamin B and ginseng tea. Will return shortly. This blog is BACK, baby …

Tonight Live: Psi-Op Radio

2009-01-11T16:55:00.002-06:00

Tonight, January 11, SMiles and I will host another live edition of PsiOp Radio ...

The show starts at 7 pm CST / 0100 UTC. You can listen on line via these networks:

Freedom Underground Radio

Anomaly Radio

Revere Radio

LIVE TONIGHT: Psi-Op Radio

2009-01-04T17:01:00.003-06:00

It's a big night for PsiOp Radio ...

Tonight, we start our new Sunday schedule. Instead of Tuesdays, we will now be doing the show on Sunday nights. Same time, 7-9 pm CST.

Also, tonight, we debut on Freedom Underground Radio. This great new network, born out of the ashes of We The People Radio Network, features a great line-up of hosts, including my good friend Jack Blood. Tonight, SMiles Lewis and I are proud to join them.

Our show will still be carried on Anomaly Radio and Revere Radio, bringing to three the number of networks where you can hear us live.

Remember, the show begins at 7 pm CST / 0100 UTC. I don't know for sure, but I think we will be able to take calls tonight. Here are the links where you can listen:

Freedom Underground Radio

Anomaly Radio

Revere Radio

The Coming Year: Panic or Paradise?

2009-01-02T18:47:00.012-06:00

Warm today in Central Texas … high blue skies … traffic humming outside on the highway … inside it’s quiet … the last round of holiday merry-making has ended … 2009 is two days old …

We start 2009 with the same war we had this time last year. We have a new president, but will he end the war? Expectations are low.

We also start 2009 with a financial crisis—the worst since the Great Depression, we are told, so bad we have not even begun to feel its effects. A complete collapse of the system, utter ruin, massive deprivation, panic, calamity, riots, martial law, concentration camps, genocide, all await us in the coming year.

Well, maybe it won’t be as bad as all that. I sure hope not …

Meanwhile, in my personal life, what a year it’s been—I retired from my day job, went to Europe, worked on various projects. So much happened. And continues to happen …

I started my treatment this week.

It happened in an oncology center in a big room with other patients, all sitting in recliners receiving their treatments.

My treatment is phlebotomy. Bloodletting, basically, only without the leeches. They take about a pint of blood. It takes ten minutes, then they give you some fruit juice and you wait ten minutes till they say you can go.

The woman next to me had cancer. So did most of the people, to judge by the hairless heads.

You count your blessings in a place like that …

And that's what it was for me, a blessing that this condition was caught before it was too late. Good thing I had that physical.

I didn’t want a physical. I didn’t feel sick and if there was something wrong I didn’t want to know about it.

But my wife insisted—get a physical, get a physical. Finally, I gave in, and you know the rest. It saved my life.

Whew—that was a close one …

Of course, most good things come with a price. In my case, it was Happy Hour.

I wasn't drinking immoderately, for the most part. A great many people drink at the same level I was drinking and never experience one negative consequence.

But for me, with a hereditary inability to process iron, drinking alcohol—which actively interferes with the breakdown of iron—doing this was, for me, a death-defying stunt.

And now, for my next act, I will drink a case of cyanide, play Russian roulette, kiss a cobra, and jump out a ten-story window …

Aw well. It’s all booze under the bridge now. What matters is, I’m alive. The weeks of uncertainty—waiting for the biopsy, waiting for the results, wondering, not knowing—are over, and the results are that I'm going to be okay. The New Year finds me with a new lease on life. My worst-case scenario did not happen …

And maybe the world will be okay too. Maybe the worst-case scenario for 2009 won't come to pass. Worst-case scenarios often don't.

Anyway, it doesn't help to worry about it, and with the same energy we use to worry and imagine the worst, we can also imagine the best and make it happen …

When I started writing this, it was sunny. Now the sun is setting. The second day of 2009 draws to a close. Time marches on.

Happy New Year …

A Look Inside My Scrapbooks, part one

2008-12-20T09:20:00.018-06:00

For the past decade I've been scrapbooking (as it's popularly called these days). I don't show my scrapbooks very often (they're mostly for my own amusement and inspiration), but today I thought I'd share a few pages with you.

We'll start with my first scrapbook, 200 pages in length, begun in April 1998. The cover is decorated with various stickers I found ...

In the first pages of this scrapbook I was inspired by William Burroughs, who used his scrapbooks to experiment with the cut-up method of writing. Here's a cut-up of mine, a combination of three news stories to create a news story in an alternate reality...

After a few pages I stopped doing cut-ups and began another kind of experiment, in which I pasted in pictures clipped from magazines, catalogs, and other ephemera, then free-associated a story from the images ...

Sometimes, while writing the story, I would also draw a picture. On this page you see my rendering of Popeye ...

Gradually, my scrapbook also became a sketchbook, in which I mixed drawings with collage work. Sometimes the drawings were later published. The drawing below, for instance, appears on the inside front cover of my comic book Villa of the Mysteries #3 ...

But most of the scrapbook drawings have not been published ...

On occasion, I've used published drawings in my collages. In the Manchurian Candidate collage below I used two panels from my story "This is MK-Ultra Baby" ...

I also use my scrapbooks to keep newspaper clippings that interest me. At the time of this first scrapbook, the upcoming millennium change and Y2K was much in the news, as were stories about the recent death of Princess Diana. I was particularly interested in the conspiratorial aspects and archetypal meaning of her demise ...

Roy Rogers, one of my childhood heroes, died that year ...

To be continued ...

My Journey

2008-12-19T07:42:00.006-06:00

I’ve begun a journey—a very important journey.

It is not the most important journey of my life, but it ranks very near the most important—that one being the journey that first brought me into this world.

This journey, you see, is a journey towards wellness. This is the one that will determine how much longer I will stay in this world.

I would like to stay awhile. The next world is better, I understand. But I am still attached to this one, and to certain people in it. Also, I have a few more things I’d like to do here before I leave.

So I have embarked on this journey …

A couple of months ago, I learned I have a potentially fatal disease: hereditary hemochromatosis, a disease that causes an excessive amount of iron in the blood. It is potentially fatal because too much iron can damage the body's organs, in particular the liver.

My liver has already suffered some damage, it seems. The damage has been exacerbated by my intake of alcohol, which further increases the amount of iron.

That’s two insults to the liver, as my doctor puts it. Two very rude insults: hemochromatosis and alcohol.

I’m in trouble …

Fortunately, the results of my biopsy were encouraging. I haven’t developed cirrhosis yet. But I’m close. Close enough that I have to take action now if I want to live.

And I want to live.

So, I’ve stopped drinking (this is week five of no alcohol), and in a couple of weeks I will begin my treatment, which will consist of regular phlebotomies to reduce the iron in my blood.

It will take several months to get my iron down to a normal level. After that, I will require a phlebotomy every three months for the rest of my life to keep it normal. But that's okay, because those phlebotomies will enable me to have a normal, healthy life—and a longer one.

Also, if I continue to avoid alcohol, it is possible my liver will repair itself in a few years.

That’s not a bad prognosis, but of course it’s only a prognosis. I have to actually follow through on the treatment—and continue avoiding alcohol—before I can truly say, "I dodged a bullet!"

I have to take the journey …

IT'S BACK: PsiOp Radio Tonight

2008-12-09T12:58:00.003-06:00

It's back! ... After several weeks' hiatus due to technical upgrades, PsiOp Radio is back. SMiles and I will start the all-new, live show tonight (12/9/08) at 7 pm CST / 0100 UTC. You can listen to us at either Anomaly Radio or Revere Radio.

Also, if you missed my appearance on Jack Blood's show yesterday, the mp3 can be downloaded here.

I'll Be Jack Blood's Guest Today on Deadline Live

2008-12-08T13:29:00.003-06:00

Today at 3 pm CST I’ll be Jack Blood’s guest on Deadline Live. Listen on line at Freedom Underground Radio.

Something New: MACK TV

2008-12-04T13:08:00.004-06:00

Now playing on MACK TV: Something for the holiday season: "A Gun for Christmas." If this doesn't make you cry, you are some kind of inhuman monster. CLICK HERE ...

Preview: On the Drawing Board

2008-12-02T14:28:00.003-06:00

Here's a preview of what's currently on my drawing board, the first panel of my latest comic story (title undecided) for the upcoming third volume of Hotwire. Stay tuned for more previews ...

Part Two: The Forgotten Conspiracy

2008-11-25T12:24:00.012-06:00

In this morning’s edition of the Austin American-Statesman, on page A2, the following correction appears:

A story on Sunday's Page B3 should not have implied that all government investigations into the assassination of President John F. Kennedy have concluded that Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone gunman. The U.S. House Select Committee on Assassinations in the late 1970s said it "believes, on the basis of the evidence available to it, that President John F. Kennedy was probably assassinated as a result of a conspiracy." (LINK)

Again, my thanks to the American-Statesman for making this correction.

And now, a few final words on the subject ...

The House Select Committee on Assassinations (HSCA) was no small investigation. It was a big deal in the Seventies. After all, this was the second government investigation of John Kennedy’s assassination, launched in response to a decade of public discontent over the Warren Commission Report. And when its findings were released, it confirmed what most of us suspected, that the assassination was a conspiracy.

Yet, today this investigation is largely forgotten ...

It is not taught in school (a 1999 study showed that high school textbooks barely deal with the basic facts of the assassination, let alone get into the complexities), and it is not mentioned in most news stories on the assassination.

Try a Google news search for “Warren Commission.” Now, try another for “House Select Committee on Assassinations.”

When I tried those searches earlier today, “Warren Commission” resulted in 3,118 news stories, while “House Select Committee on Assassinations” resulted in only 53 (one of the more prominent results being this morning's correction in the American-Statesman).

That is why I call the HSCA the Forgotten Investigation ...

How could such a thing happen? How could a congressional investigation into such an important matter fall so far down the Memory Hole?

It was, as I say, a big deal in the Seventies. The HSCA made headlines every day, it seemed, and when its findings were released, stating that the president’s death was probably the result of a conspiracy, the news resounded like a thunderclap across the land.

Yet, today, almost three decades later, the investigation is mentioned so little that it might as well have never happened.

How could this be?

Looking back on those times, the 1970s, when news about the HSCA was at fever pitch, I recall an incident, which at the time had no particular meaning for me, but which now I see was a portent of doom for the HSCA …

I was second shift supervisor in the printing office of a major Texas university. (I am not naming the university, as I have no wish to embarrass the guilty party, an otherwise nice guy. He might still be alive, and word travels on the Internet.)

My job involved the nightly supervision of the production of the university’s daily newspaper. I worked closely with the student staff, whose offices were across the hall from the printing office, and on Fridays would meet with them and their professors for a weekly critique of their performance and mine. If my proofreader missed a typo, for instance, I would hear about it and pass the criticism along to the proofreader. But, as this was a journalism class, more time was spent on the students’ performance. The professors would mark up copies of the previous week’s newspapers and go over the mistakes—mistakes of grammar, unsubstantiated statements, and so forth.

One day, the head of the department held up a copy of the paper, pointed to a big red X he had scrawled across the lead story, and in a shaking voice said, “This is unacceptable.”

The students glanced at one another in confusion, then leaned in to hear what was unacceptable about the story, a wire story that had been torn right off the AP teletype machine and reproduced in the student newspaper, as was the standard practice.

The story concerned acoustical tests that had been conducted by the HSCA in Dealey Plaza (using a Dallas police motorcycle officer’s Dictabelt recording of the gunshots for comparison). The results showed the strong likelihood of two gunmen.

“I was in the motorcade that day,” the professor said, curling his lips in disdain, “and I heard the shots myself. They were echoing all over the place, and that’s all they were—echoes bouncing off the buildings. It is outrageous to claim that those echoes were extra gunshots. Outrageous.”

“You were in the motorcade?” someone asked.

“Yes, in the press bus.”

The students were impressed. I, however, recalled a conversation I had overheard several years earlier between my father, a weekly newspaper publisher, and one of his friends, a reporter who had been in the motorcade.

His friend had complained that the press buses (there were actually two) were the worst possible places for a reporter to be because they were too far back to see anything. He also indicated it was not the best place to hear anything either.

Why this journalism professor, a man of some esteem in the profession, held a different opinion, I have no idea. And, in any case, what did his opinion matter? The HSCA's acoustical tests were still news. So what was the problem with the story?

The student editor said, “I don't get it. It’s just an AP story. All the papers are running it.”

“I don’t care,” snarled the professor. “The problem is, you made it the lead story.”

“But I’m not the only one. The Dallas—”

“I don’t care. Lee Harvey Oswald killed Kennedy.”

Was this man's attitude representative of a prevailing attitude towards the HSCA in the journalism profession? Does it have any bearing on anything outside that classroom, or anything going on today?

I don't know, but the scarcity with which the HSCA is mentioned in news articles today causes me to wonder.

The scarcity cannot be due to ignorance. True, the HSCA released its findings at a time when today's younger journalists had not yet been born, therefore they might be excused for their ignorance. But there are still a great many journalists working today—many of them in senior positions—who, like myself, are old enough to remember the HSCA. So, why do they not mention it?

It is not for lack of opportunity. Every year, on the anniversary of Kennedy's death, articles are written on the subject. They will mention the Warren Commission. They will mention the fact that there are conspiracy theories that 75% of the public believes for some reason. And they will mention Oliver Stone’s film JFK. But rarely will they mention the findings of the HSCA.

There is something else they will not mention: the recommendations of the HSCA.

Fortunately, the report is available in the National Archives, so you can read the recommendations yourself on line. They are in the summary:

IV. Recommendations for further investigation

A. The Department of Justice should contract for the examination of a film taken by Charles L. Bronson to determine its significance if any, to the assassination of President Kennedy.

B. The National Institute of Law Enforcement and Criminal Justice of the Department of Justice and the National Science Foundation should make a study of the theory and application of the principles of acoustics to forensic questions, using the materials available in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy as a case study.

C. The Department of Justice should review the committee's findings and report in the assassinations of President John F. Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and after completion of the recommended investigation enumerated in sections A and B, analyze whether further official investigation is warranted in either case. The Department of Justice should report its analyses to the Judiciary Committee.

There it is, in black and white. In 1979, the HSCA, after investigating the greatest crime in our nation’s history, sent its report to the Justice Department, with the recommendation that the department pursue the matter further. And the Justice Department has sat on the report ever since.

Now, there’s a scandal for you—a scandal the major media (which presumably thrives on big, sensational stories with “-gate” as the suffix) seems oddly reluctant to explore.

The HSCA report is not perfect. I do not agree with all its conclusions. The HSCA, for instance, concluded that Oswald fired on the president. I disagree; the best research indicates that Oswald was on a lower floor of the Schoolbook Depository during the shooting and that another man, possibly Mac Wallace, fired from the Depository, while another fired from the knoll.

Nor do I believe the conspiracy was limited to a handful of Cuban exiles and organized crime figures, as the HSCA concluded. I believe the conspiracy was much larger in scope, involving the CIA, FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, and President Lyndon B. Johnson.

Yet, despite these differences of opinion, I still regard the HSCA as important. It was a start in the right direction, and when it was released, offered us the best hope that the full truth might be revealed and justice served.

This has not happened. Four presidential administrations have come and gone since the HSCA report was issued, and not one attorney general has seen fit to act on its recommendations. As a result, with each passing year, more witnesses, more key players in the conspiracy have died, making it likely that by the time the Justice Department gets around to doing its job, there will be no one left alive to prosecute.

Which of course is the best explanation for why the House Select Committee on Assassinations has become the forgotten investigation ...

In closing, here are two letters written by a White House insider who knew JFK better than most, his personal secretary, Evelyn Lincoln. Click to enlarge ..

Update: Correction to appear in American-Statesman

2008-11-24T20:22:00.003-06:00

I was just informed by Debra Davis, State editor of the Austin American-Statesman, that a correction on the JFK story will appear in tomorrow morning's edition, Correction box, A2. Very commendable.

Update on American-Statesman/AP JFK Story

2008-11-24T15:14:00.004-06:00

The State editor of the Austin American-Statesman emailed me this morning to say the matter is being investigated. I am waiting to hear more.

U.S. Government Archives: Report of the Select Committee on Assassinations of the U.S. House of Representatives

An Open Letter to the Austin American-Statesman

2008-11-23T14:16:00.002-06:00

TO: Debra Davis, State Editor; Gary Susswein, Metro Editor

There is a serious error of fact in the Metro & State section of this morning’s print edition of the Austin American-Statesman.

The error appears in the story regarding the 45th anniversary of the JFK assassination. It does not appear in the original AP story by Andre Coe, nor does it appear in the on-line edition of the Statesman. It only appears in the Statesman’s print edition. That is why I am writing you.

The error may be found in the sixth paragraph, final sentence: “Government investigations have concluded Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone gunman.”

As I discuss in my blog, the second government investigation, the one conducted in the late 1970s by the House Select Committee on Assassinations, concluded that President John F. Kennedy probably died as the result of a conspiracy.

For more details, please refer to the blog entry at http://mackwhite.blogspot.com/2008/11/forgotten-investigation.html .

The assassination of our 35th president is as serious a matter today as it was 45 years ago. It is, therefore, an equally serious matter when the news media fails to get its facts straight with regard to the matter.

As a long-time subscriber to the paper, past contributor, and citizen, I respectfully request a correction in the print edition of the American-Statesman. Your readers deserve the truth.

(Please note this is an open letter. I am reproducing it in a separate blog entry and will inform my readers when the requested correction is printed.)

Sincerely,

Mack White
www.MackWhite.com

The Forgotten Investigation

2008-11-23T11:31:00.006-06:00

This morning’s print edition of the Austin American-Statesman carries an Associated Press story about the 45th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy which contains the following sentence:

“Government investigations have concluded Lee Harvey Oswald was the lone gunman.”

This sentence is inaccurate. Yes, the Warren Commission concluded Oswald acted alone, but the second government investigation—the House Select Committee on Assassinations—came to a very different conclusion. Quoting from the report:

“The Committee believes, on the basis of the evidence available to it, that president John F. Kennedy was probably assassinated as a result of a conspiracy ...” (LINK)

Curiously, the inaccurate sentence does not appear in the original AP story by Andre Coe (LINK), nor does it appear in the on-line edition of the American-Statesman (LINK). It only appears in the paper’s print edition.

Readers of the print edition are owed a correction of this error. Many readers may not be aware of the conclusions of the second (and, apparently, final) government investigation of Kennedy's death.

Journalists seem to be unaware of it as well.

Another November 22nd

2008-11-22T13:30:00.013-06:00

The sun has risen over another November 22nd.

It is the 45th time the sun has risen over a November 22nd since November 22, 1963.

On that November 22nd, in 1963, I was one month away from my 11th birthday. Today, I am one month away from my 56th.

It has been a long journey from that November 22nd to this one …

On that one, I sat in my fifth-grade classroom listening to radio reports via the school intercom of what was happening nearby in Dallas.

This November 22nd finds me sitting at my computer, writing, and listening to an mp3 file of the same news reports I listened to 45 years ago, the live coverage from KLIF.

I listen to it a lot, not just on November 22, but on this day I always make a point of listening to it. You can listen to it, too.

The recording is raw, unedited. One moment you’re listening to the Chiffons singing “I Have a Boyfriend,” then the world changes.

God, it’s sad …

It’s been a long journey from that November 22nd to this one, for me and for all of us who remember that day.

Of course, we’re a minority now, those of us who remember. Our ranks are thinning. Most people alive today do not remember, cannot remember. They had not been born.

That’s how many times the sun has risen since November 22, 1963.

It’s useful to have experienced that day, to remember the moment you first heard Kennedy was shot, what you were doing, how you felt—to remember what the world was like when you woke up that morning, and how the world felt when you went to bed that night—but it’s not necessary for an understanding of the assassination.

No, all you have to do to understand the assassination is to read the research of Mark Lane, Jim Garrison, Anthony Summers, and so many others, read the findings of the House Select Committee on Assassinations, watch the documentaries, think, use your brain, and then compare all you've learned with the tripe generated by the likes of Gerald Posner and Vincent Bugliosi. Or, if you don’t have time to wade through their fact-omitting distortions, watch the latest mainstream documentary on the subject.

They produce one every year at this time. One of the major networks always puts out a documentary that purports to solve the “mystery” with some new “science.” This year it’s the Discovery Channel, and this time it’s “blood spatter” analysis. And guess what, blood spatter analysis proves the Warren Commission was right all along. Surprise, surprise.

What will it be next year, I wonder. Proving the Magic Bullet Theory with blood spatter analysis will be a hard act to follow.

Maybe they'll come up with a scientific technique to explain away all the witnesses who saw gunmen on the knoll, the Parkland Hospital doctors who saw wounds very different from the autopsy photos, the organized crime and intelligence connections of Ruby and Oswald, and all the rest.

But I digress …

I was saying that you don’t have to have personally experienced November 22, 1963, to understand the meaning of that day. All you have to have experienced is the cover-up, and whether you’re 55 or 15 you’ve experienced the cover-up.

You experience it every time the major media tells you Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. And if you don't believe me, study the subject yourself—really study it, don’t just scroll through John “Factoid” McAdams’ shabby little website and think you know it all—really study it, then you'll know: you’re being lied to …

The sun has risen over another November 22nd, and tonight it will set, the forty-fifth time it has done so since 1963.

On that November evening in 1963, a cold wind blasted across the North Texas prairie. I was in the yard kicking my football, forgetting for a time (as only a child could) the events of earlier that day.

Then I saw black clouds on the northern horizon and it grew so cold I had to go inside, where I watched television and saw Jackie in her blood-stained stockings stepping off the plane.

And outside, the sun set red against the black, and the wind picked up and the temperature fell, and later we froze in the stands and had to leave the game early, and all the flags were at half mast, and on the radio a hospital attendant talked about the president's blood on his hands, and it felt like a curse had fallen on the land.

Forty-five years ago, forty-five November 22nds ago, and so many lies …

A FEW LINKS …

More of my memories from 45 years ago:
Dealey Plaza and the Dream

My friend Brian Roper also grew up in the Dallas area in those days. Here are his memories:
November 22nd is Kennedy Day

An extensive archive:
Radio-TV Footage from November 22-25, 1963

A five-part on-line documentary:
Evidence of Revison

"Nudist Nuns of Goat Island" Featured in Yale Anthology

2008-11-14T10:18:00.002-06:00

Just published: My comic story “The Nudist Nuns of Goat Island” (originally featured in Snake Eyes #2 way back in 1993) has just been reprinted in Volume 2 of An Anthology of Graphic Fiction, Cartoons and True Stories (Yale University Press, edited by Ivan Brunetti). In addition to my story, this fine, hardcover volume features ground-breaking work by more than 80 comics creators. It is highly entertaining, one of the best comic collections I've ever seen. It's available at all good bookstores everywhere and from Amazon at this link.

Happy Nightmares!

2008-10-31T16:55:00.002-05:00

A blast from Halloween past. Who out there remembers Gorgon?

Tomorrow: Meet Me at the Texas Book Festival

2008-10-31T09:19:00.003-05:00

To my fellow Austinites, or anyone who might happen to be in Austin this weekend ...

I hope you'll drop by the Texas Book Festival tomorrow, November 1, to meet me and my good friend, award-winning western novelist Mike Kearby. We will be signing copies of The Last Renegade, written by Mike and illustrated by yours truly.

The Texas Book Festival is a free event. It will be held in the Texas State Capitol. You can find me and Mike at the Writers League of Texas booth from 11 am to 1 pm.

I look forward to seeing you!

(For more information about the festival go here.)

New Word

2008-10-25T20:28:00.003-05:00

Just coined a new word (remember, folks, you heard it here first): Twitterrorism.

US Army Report: Twitter a Terrorist Tool

2008-10-25T17:32:00.005-05:00

Do you have a Twitter account? You should. I have one. Follow me on Twitter here.

At first, I was skeptical of its value. But, after using it for the past week or so, I've found it to be a good way to hear what friends are up to, tell them what I'm up to, as well as send and receive news links. Just now, for instance, I sent out this headline on my Twitter feed:

US Army report identifies Twitter as potential terrorist tool

Quoting from the story:

"Twitter has also become a social activism tool for socialists, human rights groups, communists, vegetarians, anarchists, religious communities, atheists, political enthusiasts, hacktivists and others to communicate with each other and to send messages to broader audiences," the report said.

Hacktivists refers to politically motivated computer hackers.

"Twitter is already used by some members to post and/or support extremist ideologies and perspectives," the report said.

So the US Army feels threatened by Twitter, the US Army doesn't want human rights activists and other "extremists" using Twitter to send their messages to broader audiences, the US Army equates this with terrorism.

Well, if I had any lingering doubts about the usefulness of Twitter, they are gone now. Knowing that the US Army doesn't want me using Twitter to spread my "extremist" beliefs" makes it much more attractive.

Don't have a Twitter account? What are you waiting for? Get one today!

Hey, US Army, here's an extremist message for you: Screw you.

New Video: E. Howard Hunt Details JFK Plot

2008-10-23T09:37:00.000-05:00

Rotten Monsters

2008-10-21T11:32:00.003-05:00

If you haven't decided what to be for Halloween, I suggest you check out Scott Marshall's "Rotten Monsters", Republican horror masks drawn by the extraordinarily talented Scott Marshall. The hilarious horribleness of Scott's caricatures have to be seen to be believed. (The one that scares me the most is Laura Bush. YIKES!!) You can find these monstrosities at my good friend Ethan Persoff's website, where you can download a Zip file and print out the mask of your choice at the desired size. Guaranteed to scare the hell out of everyone.

MackWhite.com Receives Make-Over

2008-10-17T21:02:00.002-05:00

I just uploaded the new improved entry page to my website. This work was long overdue. Check it out. It's radically different. More improvements are coming to the rest of the site.

LIVE TONIGHT: PsiOp Radio

2008-10-14T18:25:00.002-05:00

Hey kids, what time is it? It's PsiOp Radio Time! Yes, in about half-an-hour (7 pm CDT / 0100 UTC), SMiles Lewis and I will be hosting a brand-new, LIVE edition of the show. You can listen to us at either Anomaly Radio or Revere Radio. Our toll-free call-in number is 800-513-0105 ...

Black Hoods at Ground Zero

2008-10-12T13:33:00.003-05:00

DREAM: UT campus. Academic Building. Big crowded room. One of the deans I used to work for asks me to have a seat at a table. He morphs into someone I don't know. Other men are seated at the table. He asks me what I think is going to happen. A tape recorder is rolling, I noticed. I jokingly say something about the sky falling. "And we're at Ground Zero," I say, "with only a minute left." The men are not smiling. They have placed black hoods on their heads. "What's with the black hoods?" I ask the man. He doesn't answer, instead advises me, "Avoid all contact with subversives." I wonder what he means by subversives. At the end of the table is a stack of Ron Paul campaign literature, bumper stickers, etc. I get the impression they're Ron Paul supporters, so apparently he doesn't mean Ron Paul when he says "subversives." But what? Before I can get clarification, I find myself on the other side of the room at another table seated next to George Bush (the father, not the idiot son). The mood is glum. "We're on the way out," one of them says. "We may be out," says another, "but we're not going away." I start to say something and make a gesture with my right hand, but Bush knocks my hand down. I move my hand again, he keeps trying to hit it, grab it, I keep trying to raise it. The struggle upsets the table ...

Thousands of Troops on U.S. Streets for "Crowd Control"

2008-10-12T13:29:00.002-05:00

Naomi Wolf: Thousands of Troops Are Deployed on U.S. Streets Ready to Carry Out "Crowd Control"

Buried Tape Reveals Mass Arrest of Bystanders at RNC

2008-10-08T17:05:00.002-05:00

Check out this video. As the accompanying press release notes, this video shows the arrest of over 200 people at a concert at the Harriet Island Regional Park during the Republican National Convention in St. Paul, Minnesota. The arrests were for rioting. However, you will observe in the video that there is no riot, nor is there any sign that one is about to occur. All you see are peaceful people, families with children, sitting in a park while the police, in full riot gear, surround them. No crime occurs in this video, unless of course you include the abuse of power by the cops who made these arrests with no probable cause whatsoever.

The cameraman who recorded this outrage was arrested with all the others, but somehow he managed to bury the footage before it could be confiscated. Therefore, you and everyone else in the world can now see the video and understand what the U.S.has become: a police state.

Yes, I know, you can still walk down the street without being asked for your papers most of the time. Yes, you can still get away with criticizing the government in public. The more obvious signs of a police state are not visible, yet. They don't have to be. You know you're living in a police state when a mass of people peacefully sitting in a park, breaking no law, can be arrested for no reason. You know it because these things only happen in police states. They don't happen in free societies.

Who are these cops, I wonder. We can't see under the shields on their faces. That is too bad. I understand that many of them are not from St. Paul, but were imported from "elsewhere." There's no telling who they are. They may not even be cops. Hell, they may not even be American. Good lord (now I'm really scaring myself), they may not even be human.

But, assuming they're human, it would be nice to know who they are, where they're from. Not that I think they should be unlawfully harassed in their homes, or harmed, heaven forbid. I would just like to see them all identified, arrested, and charged with official oppression. Probable cause? We've got it right here in this video.

Of course, the true value of this video is probably not its possible use as evidence in a trial. That may be unrealistic. Its value, rather, is instructive, because it shows us what this nation has become: a police state.

The Army Times recently reported that "beginning Oct. 1 for 12 months, the [1st Brigade Combat Team of the 3rd Infantry Division] will be under the day-to-day control of U.S. Army North."

What does this mean? It means that what has been mostly hidden up until now--the fact that the United States is a police state--may become startlingly apparent to everyone very soon ...

Paul Joseph Watson: NorthCom Denies Troops to be Used for Crowd Control; But admits that Army will have access to weapons and tanks during homeland patrols

Rep. Brad Sherman: "Martial Law Threat"

2008-10-07T22:47:00.002-05:00

Naomi Wolf: “The Coup is Here”

2008-10-07T21:45:00.004-05:00

New article from Naomi Wolf: Has Sarah Palin Been Picked as the Titular Head of the Coming Police State?

Here's another video of Naomi Wolf. Here she is speaking on the End of America:

The Last Renegade

2008-10-04T13:05:00.006-05:00

Today I’ll be finishing a project that has kept me busy all summer. What I've been doing is illustrating a novel, The Last Renegade.

The novel is by noted author Mike Kearby, author of the great western novels Road to a Hanging, Ride the Desperate Trail, and Ambush at Mustang Canyon. It will be published in time for Christmas.

Like myself, Mike is a native Texan, and in fact was born in Mineral Wells, the same town I was born in—and in the same year, I might add, 1952. With this in common, you would think we had known each other for years. But, actually, we did not meet until just a few months ago.

You see, Mike grew up in Mineral Wells, whereas my family moved down the road to Fort Worth when I was very young. Over the years, I returned many, many times to visit my grandmothers and other relatives, sometimes staying for weeks at a time, but never lived in Mineral Wells again.

Thus, we did not meet until last spring when Mike decided that his next novel, The Last Renegade, should be illustrated. In his search for an illustrator, he came across my bio on Wikipedia, which mentions Mineral Wells as my birthplace. That got his attention. Then he took a look at my artwork, thought my style might be right for his book, and contacted me.

He visited me on his next trip to Austin and we had a great time, talking about Mineral Wells, Texas history, and a great many other topics we have in common. He left a copy of the manuscript with me. I read it, loved it, saw right away it was my kind of story, something I would enjoy illustrating, and the next thing you know I was hard at work on the project.

I should add that this is the first of Mike’s novels to be illustrated. His idea was that illustrations would enhance the appeal of the book for young people. As a retired schoolteacher, he has a particular interest in encouraging young people to read. Therefore, he created The Last Renegade to be especially entertaining for boys and girls in the 10-17 age range. But don't think this story is only for kids. Believe me, you can be older, a lot older, and get a big kick out of The Last Renegade. I sure did.

Mike is offering a sneak peak at the book on his website. This link will take you directly to chapter one. And while you’re there, be sure to explore the rest of his site to find out more about Mike, his other novels, and the collaborative novel project, a wonderful (and fun) learning experience he has brought to high school students throughout the state. Also, check out Mike’s new blog, Mike Kearby's Texas.

Well, it’s time for me to sit down at the drawing board and get to work. I’ve got one more illustration to draw, then The Last Renegade will go to press …

Mystery of the Martian Gas Pumps

2008-09-30T12:18:00.004-05:00

DREAM: Big trip to Mars ... upon arrival, I am surprised to find that the barren red desert occupies only a small part of the planet ... Mars is lush with vegetation and animal life same as Earth: birds, dogs, cattle, sheep, etc. and humans who of all things speak English ... amazing coincidence ... the men wear overalls and work in the fields ... they raise the same crops as on Earth, wheat, cotton, corn, etc. ... but there are no cities, only scattered rural ramshackle towns ... nothing made of concrete or brick, all the houses and other buildings made of wood ... no sidewalks, only beat-up old boardwalks ... and no paved roads, only dirt roads and horses pulling old rusty cars without engines ... the cars are look Earth-made, late 1940s vintage ... I see a Ford ... this can't be a coincidence ... my suspicions are confirmed when I see a run-down service station with retro gas pumps of the same era, late 40s, long unused, broken ... I get out my camera to take a picture of the gasp pumps, but am accosted by the local sheriff, a grinning Andy Taylor type who tells me no picture-taking is allowed ... why? ... he stops grinning and grits his teeth, "because it ain't none of your business where we come from" ... I back away, continue down the dirt street ... the women, I notice, wear long dresses FLDS-style ... then I realize that, crazy as it seems, there can be only one explanation ... these are polygamous Mormons who somehow made their way here years ago and terraformed the planet ... amazing to think ... long before there was a space program, the Mormons got here first ...

Why I've Been Away

2008-09-29T19:50:00.001-05:00

Hasn’t been much activity on this blog the past few months. Except for a couple of posts about The Man Who Jumped (still haven’t heard who he was or anything else, by the way)—except for that and a few other stray posts, it’s been awful quiet here.

The reason for this inactivity is … is … it’s, uh … it’s because I, uh …

Actually, I don’t know why. I guess it’s because after retirement from my day job, the trip to Europe, etc. my life changed so much I felt disconnected from so many things that were part of my previous routine, one of which was blogging.

Does that make sense? I don’t know how to explain it better, except to say that retiring from the day job and beginning my new life as a full-time artist turned out to be a bigger shock to my world than I imagined it would be.

Would you believe I still have dreams about the old job? It’s like a phantom limb. It’s gone, but it still feels a part of me, on some unconscious level. Turns out it was a bigger part of my identity than I realized at the time, and when it suddenly wasn’t there anymore, I had to relearn who I am.

It’s not that I miss the old job. Far from it. With the perspective of time, I look back on it with a kind of horror now and wonder how I endured it for so long. Getting up at 5:30 every morning, fighting traffic, sitting cooped up in a tiny office all day, working at something that held no interest for me, only getting an hour or two per day or weekends to do what I really wanted to do.

I much prefer my life now, going to bed when I want, getting up when I want, working when I want, playing when I want, reading more, watching movies, swimming, taking up new hobbies like salsa making, spending more time with my family.

No, I don’t miss the old job. I miss some of the people, but not the job itself. Don’t miss it at all.

But it appears that I needed the past few months to recover from the old job—to decompress, as they say—and to learn how to do this new life.

So that’s why I’ve been away from this blog. I had to step away from it for a while and work some things out.

But now I’m back ...

By the way, I wasn’t self-evaluating and navel-gazing the entire time. I accomplished something over the summer. Something big. I’ll tell you about it in my next post …

PsiOp Radio Tonight: Spy Drone Over Austin?

2008-09-16T17:08:00.004-05:00

PsiOp Radio returns tonight, live, with an exclusive report: two eyewitnesses have reported to me that last night at 3 am a strange aircraft matching the description of a Predator drone was seen circling over north Austin. My co-host SMiles Lewis and I will discuss the details of this disturbing incident, as well as a bunch of other news stories tonight starting at 7 pm CDT / 0100 UTC. The show is two hours long and is carried on Anomaly Radio and Revere Radio. Don't miss it, and be sure to call in. We'd love to hear from you ...

Hurricane Ike: Live Video Stream from Houston

2008-09-13T12:26:00.002-05:00

Live Stream from Houston tv station with latest updates on Ike: CLICK HERE

Olbermann: Bush Administration's "Criminal Neglect" Allowed 9/11 Attacks To Occur

2008-09-12T00:12:00.000-05:00

Here Comes Ike

2008-09-11T11:10:00.002-05:00

Two days ago we saw a long convoy of buses on I-35. The buses were empty. They were heading south, coastal bound. Now the evacuations have begun. Galveston and parts of Houston are emptying out, as Hurricane Ike roars towards Texas.

For a while it looked like Ike would come to Austin, that it would be downgraded to Category 1 by that time, but still a hurricane and dangerous. But now it appears it will stay east of us as it moves up through the state.

We’ll still feel the effects of it, though. High winds, six inches of rain, and possible power outages are what we’re being told to expect. Saturday should be interesting. We have a wedding to attend Saturday and have not heard yet if it’s still on. The big Longhorn game was called off. Other things have been called off, too, just in case.

We’re hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst. We have food, water, candles, a wind-up flashlight, a weather radio, batteries, and our fingers are crossed. Assuming we don’t have a power outage or get blown away, I’ll blog about what happens, or doesn’t happen. You never know what these damn hurricanes will do. Stay tuned.

McCain’s America

2008-09-07T14:29:00.001-05:00

Sadism, Cruelty, Torture In The Twin Cities: Professional Cultural Norms For US “Law” Enforcement

Secret Service confiscates books & buttons from Ron Paul delegates

Hurricane Gustav: Listen Live

2008-08-31T15:18:00.003-05:00

Hurricane Gustav approaches. Listen to live New Orleans radio HERE.

The Man Who Jumped

2008-08-18T18:11:00.001-05:00

The identity of the man who jumped (or fell?) from the SH 45 flyover last week has still not been released.

It is most curious. As I wrote the day after it happened, a fatal motorcycle accident had just occurred below the flyover and emergency workers were on the scene when this second fatality occurred.

Police say that a man parked his vehicle on the flyover, walked to a point directly over the accident scene, and fell the equivalent of ten stories to his death, right onto the pavement of the I-35 frontage road. At the time, police described it as an “apparent suicide.”

And yet, the next day the investigation was turned over to the Texas Rangers, the elite investigative arm of the Department of Public Safety. And days later, the man’s name has still not been released.

It is most curious, and the Austin news media has had nothing to say on the matter, because of course law enforcement officials are telling them nothing. At least not on the record.

Yes, it is most curious …

But, for what it’s worth, in the interim—that is, until someone answers the people’s right to know what happened—individuals have been posting comments on the Austin American-Statesman’s website that may, or may not, throw light on the mysterious “Case of the Man Who Jumped.” Comments such as the following …

By kitty
August 14, 2008 7:58 PM
I actually saw the whole thing. I work in a building where everything can been seen from our desk. IT was very very tragic thing to watch. I could not believ my eyes. if you would have seen it I doubt you would make comments like you are. To see that man hang from the edge and then just fall was horrible. I can’t believe the comments that are being made here. Yes it was a selfish thing to do but atleast show the man some respect.

By rub
August 15, 2008 6:39 PM
according to my friend who works in the building that faces this over pass here is what happened: there was a motorcycle accident at the frontage road and the driver died. then while the police and paramedics were all there at the scene, a man in a white truck stopped on the overpass directly above them. (this is the one that is very high that connects the mopac toll road to northbound I35.) and then he either falls or jumps. the lady that saw it happen in the building said he was hanging for a second by his hands, then fell.

By RB
August 15, 2008 7:58 PM
My son goes to school at the Art institute of Austin, it is located on the southwest side of the intersection. His class was outside drawing landscape pictures. My son was drawing the overpass and skyline behind it when the jumper stopped on the overpass got out of the white truck which struck my son as being odd, as he was informing the class about it the person then jumped. He tells me he doesn’t remember the person hanging at all, just that they got out walked over to the edge and jumped.

By Stuart
August 15, 2008 6:26 PM
I witnessed the man fall through the air from the overpass. I haven’t read any of the comments and probably won’t. As a witness, I’ll post what I witnessed.
While driving northbound on IH-35 I saw a man holding onto the edge of the flyover from IH-35 to East Texas 45. When I say I saw him holding on, I mean his left arm and his left leg were attached to the top of cement rail of the flyover. His back was exposed to the view of drivers traveling north on IH-35. I’ve given it some thought and don’t believe it was his intent to end his life. I believe if it was his intent to end his life, he would have jumped head first or feet first from the rail. Instead he was hanging from the rail in a manner inconsistant with that of a man intending to kill himself. I can speculate many option; he wanted people to see him and think he was going to kill himself, or he was looking at the motorcycle accident which, according to the information I have read, happend shortly before. He fell from the rail at 3:46 pm according to the clock in my vehicle. This occurred on August 14, 2008. The man was wearing a light blue shirt, blue jeans and tennis shoes. He was alive during his fall through the air. There were three vehicles parked on the flyover in the vicinity of where the man decended. Later I saw people standing near the rail and realized the rail is not as high as I originally thought. Although I saw three vehicles, I did not see any other people standing on the flyover as the man decended.

So there you have it. The majority of witnesses, or at least people claiming to be witnesses, state that the man did not exactly jump, but clung to the railing before plummeting to the asphalt below.

Then, there are comments such as the following …

By Henna
August 15, 2008 3:47 PM
Oddly enough, my neighbor didn’t come home last night after work and there was two detectives at his house for about 3 hrs talking to his girlfriend for some reason. We live less than a mile from Louis Henna Blvd.

And this …

By ldh
August 15, 2008 5:50 PM
I have been looking for an update on this story myself and I have been looking at all of the local news websites. On the KEYE website, I saw something interesting. They are showing a clip of the scenes of the accidents, this is just a clip with no reporter. Now, here is what is strange, we have been told the first accident was due to a motorcyclist running a red light however, in the clip they show two completely different motorcycles and if you turn the volume up real high you can here someone talking and it sounds like they are saying “apparently the motorcycle flew off of the on-ramp”. Now I am getting the impression that the second accident, the “jumper” was possbily on a motorcycle too???? Look at the clip and see what you think. But it is very obivious there are two different motorcycles in this clip. Which would make a little sense as to why they have not given more information about the second accident because how freaky is that to have two accidents totally unrelated, in almost the same spot and both involving a motorcycle and they are trying to figure out how the “jumper” could have possibly gone off of 45 onto 35 frontage while on a motorcycle. I work near this area and at 7:30 last night there were still a few vehicles up on 45 as if they were still investigating.

By JD07
August 15, 2008 6:59 PM
according to reports they say that the jumper drove his truck up onto the ramp of 45 and then jumped from there, the reason there are two motorcycles on the video is because there were two guys riding when one of them got hit by the car.

By Webber
August 15, 2008 2:32 PM
I was going north to Georgetown from Barnes and Noble in LaFrontera at that time….traffic wasn’t very heavy…if someone caused the accident by cutting off the cyclist or whatever, they would have had time to circle around and go back to the flyover…maybe they fell trying to look over…it seems too coincidental to be unrelated…does anyone know if a car was left by the jumper? or if the police think it’s related, even if the person wasn’t directly involved in the cyclist accident?

I was in the area myself at the time of the accident. As reported last week on this blog, I passed through that very intersection minutes before the accident occurred. Since writing that post, I have been able to better pinpoint the time.
The time stamp on the receipt I received at Grapevine Market shows that I made my purchase at 3:29 pm, one minute before the motorcycle accident occurred. It could not have taken me longer than five minutes to drive from the intersection to Grapevine Market and make my purchase. Therefore, I passed through the intersection at approximately 3:24 pm.

As I noted on this blog last week, I stared up at the flyover while waiting for the light to change at that intersection. Did something catch my eye? I don’t know, or at least can’t remember. All I know is that, for the first time since the flyover was completed over a year ago, I found myself contemplating the flyover’s great height (about ten stories, according to news reports).

I then drove on to Grapevine Market. At 3:29 I made my purchase. I got in my car and drove away down Hester’s Crossing. Around this time, 3:30 or 3:31, the accident at the intersection of I-35 and SH 45 happened.

Did I see anything unusual as I drove down Hester’s Crossing (westbound away from I-35)? All I can remember is that I made a lane change, prior to which I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw a grayish, sporty, compact car approaching, far enough away to safely make my lane change. Yet, seconds later, after I made the lane change, the car was on my tail. I made a left turn onto La Frontera. The car followed me, then shot around me at a high rate of speed. The last time I saw it was waiting to turn left on Lewis Henna, in the opposite direction it had just come, towards the accident scene.

Does this mean anything? Maybe not. I’m just searching my memory …
The next thing that happened was that I returned to Wal-Mart to pick up the prescription I had forgotten. Twenty minutes had passed since I was last in the intersection and now it was filled with police and emergency vehicles.

I also saw a black motorcycle lying in front of a large white vehicle of some kind, a pickup I thought at the time (my vision is a little fuzzy without glasses at that distance). I may have seen a body lying on top of the motorcycle—it seemed to me the shape was larger than it should have been, had it only been a motorcycle—but, again, my vision was fuzzy.

As for the man who jumped, I did not see him. There was not time to examine the scene more closely, because a cop directing traffic was shouting “GO!” to the rubber-necking drivers …

Something Strange Down the Road

2008-08-15T19:52:00.003-05:00

Something strange happened down the road yesterday …

I took a break from the drawing board to run down to the Super Wal-Mart (yeah, I know) to pick up a few groceries, as well as a prescription for my wife.

It didn’t take me long. I got the handful of groceries, went through checkout (forgetting to pick up the prescription) and soon was back in the car heading westbound on Lewis Henna Blvd.

Lewis Henna runs parallel to the new toll road, State Highway 45. It also crosses the north- and southbound frontage roads of I-35. At both frontage roads are traffic lights. As I approached the northbound frontage road, the light turned red. I came to a stop.

As I sat there, waiting for the light to change, I found myself looking up at the SH 45 flyover that connects with I-35. I had never really looked at it before, but now I find myself contemplating just how the thing is. It’s about the height of a ten-story building.

Wow, I thought, when you’re driving on that thing you can’t see how high up you are, and a good thing, because you’d get vertigo.

I imagined what it would be like to get out of your car and peer over the edge. Of course, you wouldn’t want to actually do that. It would be crazy to do such a thing.

Later, I estimated it was 3:30 or shortly before (say, 3:28) while I was sitting there, looking at the flyover, waiting for the light to change.

The light turned green. I drove on, making a detour through the La Frontera shopping center to go to Grapevine Market on another errand. Didn’t take long. Ten minutes later, I was home.

As soon as I arrived, I realized I had forgotten the prescription. Which meant I had to go right back to Wal-Mart. Could I beat the afternoon rush? I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. It was 3:45. I had plenty of time.

A few minutes later, heading back down Lewis Henna, eastbound this time, I saw red and blue flashing lights ahead. I realized these were emergency vehicles. There had been an accident in the intersection with the I-35 frontage road, and evidently it was a bad one. I estimated there were half a dozen cop cars in addition to an ambulance and a fire truck.

Later, I read the accident happened at 3:30, which means it happened a minute or two after I drove through the intersection on the westbound side. It might have even happened at the very moment I drove through the intersection. I wouldn’t have seen it happen, you see, because the east- and westbound sides of Lewis Henna are dissected by the toll road SH 45.

Well, with the intersection shut down, I had to find an alternate route to Wal-Mart. I know the area well, so it didn’t take long. I picked up the prescription and went back to my car. Above, a yellow EMS was helicopter circling over the accident scene.

Wow, I thought. This really is a bad accident.

I drove down Lewis Henna (the westbound was not shut down) and as I did so, glanced up at the flyover I had been contemplating earlier. There was an ambulance sitting up there, lights flashing.

This was strange, I thought, because the accident was way down below on the ground.

I drove on. At the red light I came to a stop. I looked to my left, where I had a clear view of the accident scene. I saw a black motorcycle lying on the asphalt in front of a white pickup. That’s bad, I thought.

I got home and told my wife about what I had seen. I went back to the drawing board. After awhile, she called me into the living room. They were talking about the accident on television, she said.

Here’s what had happened. Around 3:30, a motorcyclist ran a red light and was struck by a pickup. He was killed.

But that’s not all. Minutes later, while the cops and EMS were working the accident scene, a man jumped or fell off the flyover above and was killed.

The investigation of this bizarre event has been turned over to the Texas Rangers (LINK).

GO HERE to see raw video footage of the accident scene. (Incidentally, there were two motorcycles on the scene. One was was the motorcycle belong to the man who was killed, the other belonged to a man who was riding alongside him. The motorcycle I saw lying on its side on the asphalt can be seen in upright position in the raw video footage. There is also a motorcycle seen lying on the grassy median. I do not know which one belonged to the man who was killed.) ...

War in Georgia: Today's Links

2008-08-11T14:13:00.005-05:00

American Mercenary Captured By Russians

Civilian Genocide, Dead Americans Cost Of U.S.-Russia Proxy War

More Evidence of U.S. Complicity in S. Ossetia Invasion

US sends more arms to Georgia – Israeli media

Bush's War in Georgia; Will it be the Flyswatter or the Blunderbuss?

War in the Caucasus: Towards a Broader Russia-US Military Confrontation?

World War 3 expands into Europe and awakens the Russian Bear: The next stage in the oil wars

The BBC is deliberately distorting the News from the Georgia Region

How Bad Does it Have to Get?

2008-07-29T16:41:00.003-05:00

How bad does it have to get? What’s it going to take? How many children, elderly people, people in wheelchairs, or anyone who doesn’t “comply” fast enough with a cop’s order are we going to allow to be Tasered?

Today, we read about a 16-year-old boy with a broken back who was Tasered by some Missouri cops for “non-compliance.” The boy had fallen 50 feet from an overpass, and because he couldn’t get up, or do whatever the hell it was the cops wanted him to do, he was shocked 19 times with 50,000 volts.

But I’m being unfair. I admit it. That’s not the whole story. I should tell it all, and I will. Here's the cops' side of the story: While the boy was lying there with a broken back, barely unconscious, he mumbled something like “kill the cops.”

Which of course puts the whole incident in a different light. What cop wouldn’t piss his pants in fear hearing some like that, even if it did come from a boy with a broken back.

Where do these cops come from? Are police departments deliberately recruiting cretins? It’s beginning to look that way.

And guess what, it’s not just cops anymore. Now we have to worry about security guards as well.

Two days ago, it came to light that security guards at an Ohio hospital Tasered and beat a 66-year-old minister for telling a joke.

Again I ask, How bad does it have to get? Isn’t it bad enough right now? When are we going to start demanding an end to Taser madness? When are we going to see some solutions? Is that what we’re waiting for? Solutions? They’re not hard to find.

One solution, for instance, would be to change police training procedures. Right now, cops are trained to use Tasers for compliance. This is not why Tasers were originally introduced into police arsenals. Tasers were meant to be used only in situations where lives were in danger, as an alternative to deadly force. It was never intended that they be used to enforce orders to lie down, stand up, bend over, or do anything other than drop a weapon. To use them for compliance in general is to invite sadistic cops to use them at their whim.

Second, we should demand that police departments (and security firms, too, apparently) stop hiring cretins. Standards need to higher, not lower. And if higher standards mean a police shortage, fine. It would be safer to have no cops at all, rather than a squadron of bad cops.

Naturally, all the high standards in the world cannot prevent the occasional cretin from slipping into police ranks. And when that happens, when cops do bad things such as Taser a boy with a broken back, it is not enough to fire them. Like any other criminal, they should go to jail.

Yes, I know, jail space is at a premium these days, despite our nation having more jail space than any nation on earth.. But there’s a solution for that too …

Every day in this country, people are thrown in jail for a trivial offense. In some cases, they have not even broken a law. A few months ago, for instance, a man was jailed because his 18-year-old, non-minor daughter did not get a GED test—clearly, a ridiculous waste of jail space. And that is not an isolated case. There are many more just like it, perhaps thousands a day.

So the solution is simple. Release all the pot users, jaywalkers, litterbugs, people with unpaid library fines, and the like, and overnight our nation’s jails and prisons will be three-quarters empty, ample room to house all the bad cops.

Well, maybe not quite enough. But that’s no problem. We can always build more prisons for more bad cops ...

(By the way, this is PsiOp Radio night. Join me and SMiles Lewis at 8 pm EDT / 7 pm CDT / 6 MDT / 5 PDT/ 0100 UTC at one of these two networks: Revere Radio or Anomaly Radio. And remember, we take calls. Our toll-free number is (800) 513-0105, and if you live in the Austin area, you can call us on the local line, (512) 646-4404 ...

Mayberry After Midnight

2008-07-01T15:23:00.000-05:00

Countdown: Gas Pains and the Enron Loophole

2008-06-24T10:59:00.001-05:00

George Carlin: Why They Call it the American Dream

2008-06-23T14:46:00.002-05:00

George Carlin, R.I.P.

Strange old world, strange new life

2008-06-18T16:59:00.004-05:00

A cold front arrived in Central Texas today. The temperatures dropped down to 95 degrees. Brrrrrrr. Time to get out the coats and gloves, turn up the heater. But tomorrow, we’ll be back into the triple digits. The summer solstice is just days away …

It’s June, Month Five of my New Life, by which I mean post-retirement life, i.e. Life After Day Job. Life Everlasting.

I’ve got an illustration job, a big one that’s kept my nose to the grindstone for over a month now, kept me busy ever since we got back from our trip to Port Aransas. Yes, it’s kept me mighty busy. I've had time for little else.

But I’m not complaining. It pays the bills and it’s something I enjoy: art. Yes, it's frustrating some days, bent over the drawing board for hours, trying to get an image to work. But when the image finally works, the satisfaction is total—and, anyway, nothing could be as frustrating as working forty hours a week in an office doing something I don’t enjoy. I did that for years, decades, and never want to go back to that life, never want to work a "regular" job again. Therefore, my prayer every day is that I can make this self-employment thing work.

Europe seems like a distant dream now. Hard to believe it was only two-and-a-half months ago … memories come back, in no particular order … standing outside the Hampstead tube station in the twilight waiting for Carol and Bruce … strange dark buildings … Royal Opera House, trying to stay awake during Carmen, and not succeeding … slept with my eyes open, the movements on the stage and music combining with my dreams … my daughter and I walking through Kensington Gardens, the wind roaring in the trees … train to Rotterdam … Marcel and I walking back to his place from a pub late at night, waiting for a barge to pass under the drawbridge … Utrecht … dinner with Albo and his family … later, stoned and lost in mysterious old Amsterdam, paranoid … funny now but not funny at the time … all so far away …

I think I miss London most of all, the time with my daughter … the snow on Tower Bridge … our flat in Chelsea, sinking into my bed at night, worn-out and satisfied, thinking "this is London, wow" … the OXO Tower, martinis and the view of St. Paul’s and all of London spread out under the twilight sky … all so far away … like a distant dream from this present vantage point, sitting here in hot old Texas after a day at the drawing board …

And a few weeks later Diane and I would be in Port Aransas … that was a good time too … sitting on the balcony of our condo in the evenings, looking at the moonlit breakers … the Gulf of Mexico’s eternal tide … wind sweeping the dunes … and early in the morning the sun orange over the water … shucking oysters …

Strange old world … strange new life …

Some time after my return from Europe and before Port Aransas, I went to Dallas to visit family, and while there saw my father’s grave in the National Cemetery. First time I had been to the cemetery since he died a year before, first time to see his marker, his name engraved in cold stone with the dates of his birth and death, the bookends of his time on Earth … life without him is now one year old …

And life without my day job, the one I worked for 25 years, is now five months old, almost half a year … wow … there was a time I thought I’d never leave that place, thought that job would always be my life, no escape ever … awful little dark cramped office they stuck me in that last year … ugh … the horror … but now, it seems no distant like it never happened … much more distant than Europe … a strange and distant dream, that job, and thank God … but the strangest thing of all is who I used to be when I worked there … that’s how much the past five months have changed me, already …

Strange old world … strange new life … distant dreams … idle thoughts … summer solstice coming soon, and then what …

Austin's Reichstag Fire?

2008-06-10T11:49:00.002-05:00

As noted in my earlier blog posts on the Governor's Mansion fire, the failure of security is very strange to say the least. I have been a resident of Austin for over 30 years and am very familiar with the Capitol and Governor's Mansion area. Therefore, I know what I'm talking about. My friend and fellow Austinite Alex Jones makes the same observation:

Having personally visited and held demonstrations in the vicinity of the building on many occasions, Alex Jones remarked that security is water tight, and that individuals are approached and questioned as soon as they get near the building by Austin police. For someone to have started a fire both inside and at the entrance of the building, as some reports indicate, is virtually impossible according to Jones. On his nationally syndicated radio show today Jones speculated that the fire could have been staged as an excuse to crackdown on Austin's vociferously active freedom movement ... (LINK)

Could the fire have been an inside job? Certainly, the failure by DPS to protect the building from arson has the look of a security stand down. But, until the BATF-assisted investigation and an arrest is made, we cannot know for sure. Time will tell ...

The Bush-McCain Tijuana Bible

2008-06-10T06:17:00.002-05:00

My good friends Ethan Persoff and Scott Marshall have just unveiled the George W. Bush-John McCain Tijuana Bible. Read all about this rare collectible HERE. Take a look at the actual thing HERE. But be forewarned, this is NSFW.

Governor’s Mansion: Where Was Security?

2008-06-10T05:45:00.003-05:00

The Department of Public Safety (DPS) claims a security detail was present at the Texas Governor’s Mansion prior to the mysterious blaze that destroyed the 152-year-old building, yet refuses to disclose how many DPS officers were on the grounds. It is known that one DPS officer called the fire department after discovering the fire. However, this was only after numerous passersby had already called. Alonzo Perez, the first to call, reports that he saw no DPS officers at the mansion long after he called 911. Furthermore, he says it took the fire department at least 10 minutes to respond to the call. (LINK)

Bear in mind this is an area of town where the DPS presence is normally so thick you could close your eyes, throw a rock in any direction, and be reasonably certain of hitting a trooper on the head. I’m not suggesting you try this. I’m only trying to make the point that it is very strange for there to be no DPS presence at the Governor’s Mansion. Apparently, there were no DPS troopers across the street at the Capitol either, because if there had been surely one of them would have noticed and called 911. But they didn't. Passersby called 911. Yes, it is very strange, particularly when you consider that both the Capitol and Governor's Mansion have been designated potential terrorist targets.

And where was the Austin Fire Department? Burger King? What exactly was the point of all those post-9/11 emergency drills if the best the fire department can do is come sauntering onto the scene ten minutes after fire has consumed a major landmark?

Well, at least the surveillance cameras were working that night. They didn’t prevent the arson from occurring. Surveillance cameras never do, despite the claims of Austin Police Chief Art Acevedo that if we blanket the entire city with cameras it will end crime for all time. No, surveillance cameras are useless in crime prevention. But they do seem to help solve crimes, and that is what we are being told to expect in this case. State Fire Marshal Paul Maldonado has indicated that surveillance video shows “someone near” the mansion before the fire. Maldonado does not say who was near the mansion, but presumably it was not the DPS. At any rate, he assures us the crime will be solved. (LINK) And I'm sure it will. After all, the BATF is involved in the investigation, and if you can't trust the BATF who can you trust?

Arson at the Texas Governor's Mansion

2008-06-08T17:16:00.003-05:00

With the Texas Governor's Mansion and adjacent capitol grounds covered with security and surveillance at all times (especially post-9/11), how could this happen? It would be convenient for someone to say that security was lax due to the governor's absence. But that excuse won't work. Besides its significance as a government building, this was one of the oldest buildings in Texas. Its historical value alone should have guaranteed tight security. Why, it's as if someone snuck into the Alamo and set it on fire. Also, the mansion stands (or stood?) in downtown Austin, which at all hours is crawling with every manner of cop--city, county, state. Federal government has a big presence there as well. In the entertainment district, you can't spit on the sidewalk without some cop or other noticing. And, as I mentioned, the capitol area is covered with cops. So how come no cop, no citizen, nobody noticed that someone was burning down the Governor's Mansion?! Was it a very lucky lone nut or a false-flag operation? Needless to say, we'll be watching developments in this story very closely ...

Fire at Governor's Mansion in Austin Ruled Arson

Main Core: Are You One of the 8 Million?

2008-05-21T11:09:00.001-05:00

According to a senior government official…”There exists a database of Americans, who, often for the slightest and most trivial reason, are considered unfriendly, and who, in a time of panic, might be incarcerated. The database can identify and locate perceived ‘enemies of the state’ almost instantaneously.” … One knowledgeable source claims that 8 million Americans are now listed in Main Core as potentially suspect. In the event of a national emergency, these people could be subject to everything from heightened surveillance and tracking to direct questioning and possibly even detention ... READ MORE

TODAY: Mack White guest on Jack Blood's Deadline Live

2008-05-19T12:06:00.003-05:00

Today, Monday 5/19/08, I will be Jack Blood's guest on Deadline Live on the Genesis Communications Network. The show will be carried LIVE beginning at 4 pm EDT / 3 pm CDT / 2 pm MDT / 1 pm PDT / 2100 UTC. It can be heard on AM and FM stations across the country, as well as on the Internet. To listen on line GO TO GCN's LISTEN LIVE PAGE and select either Network One or Network Three.

The Deciders Have Decided

2008-05-18T15:27:00.002-05:00

The Deciders have decided ... to keep the article.

No surprise, really. The only thing I can't figure out is how the matter ever came up in the first place. I do have my suspicions, but that is as much as I should say about that, at the present time.

That's the problem with Wikipedia. Under cover of anonymity, and with no legal accountability whatsoever, anyone can do anything to anyone's article--write something false or defamatory, or in my case simply nominate an article they don't like for deletion.

It almost succeeded. Early on, most of the persons debating the issue knew nothing about comics, therefore were quick to vote "Delete." Only the intervention of a Wikipedian with knowledge of comics saved the article, and this was largely happenstance. He tells me had not edited or looked at the article in a long time, but by coincidence just happened to look at it shortly after the nomination for deletion was made.

It was disconcerting to see people debating my "notability." I didn't know how to take it. I was annoyed, because ever since the article appeared on Wikipedia a few years ago a lot of people have told me they've read it. Which meant that now a lot of people were seeing the deletion notification, as well as the debate over whether or not I was worthy of the article. This was a great personal and professional embarrassment for me.

And yet, it was not exactly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Far from it. And it was more ridiculous than anything else. It said far more about the responsible individual than it did about me, and far more about the weaknesses of Wikipedia.

I have mixed feelings about Wikipedia. It does have some value as a resource. I have used it in the past, and will likely do so in the future. But now, having seen up close and personal just how vulnerable it is to abuse, I have come to believe that Wikipedia should no longer allow people to edit or create articles anonymously and without legal accountability. This allows the likes of Slim Virgin to do a great deal of damage, not only to the individuals who are defamed or deleted, but ultimately to the growing number of people who have, for better or worse, come to rely on Wikipedia for information.

Of course, it could be argued that, in my case, the Wikipedia system of self-correction ultimately worked. There are good Wikipedians as well as bad (I call them Wickedpedians), and they came through in the end. But even so, the anonymity thing has got to go.

A Reader Writes: Drive-In Memories

2008-05-16T17:16:00.004-05:00

After reading my piece Drive-In Memories from last November, a reader sent the following email (reproduced here by permission):

Dear Mack,

I wanted to write and let you know that I was thoroughly entertained reading your blog this evening on your drive-in theater memories.

Like so many who intimately knew her, I also lamented the destruction of the Fort Worth Twin's screen towers over the New Year's holiday. I saw that they were missing a couple of weeks after they were torn down, and I, too, felt a certain "warmth of nostalgia" when I passed them by on the Tom Landry Highway. I'm grateful to the handful of people (like your friend Brian Roper) who took pictures of it before it was demolished.

I can say that the Fort Worth Twin was, bar-none, my favorite drive-in theater to haunt when I was a kid growing up in the '70s and living in the neighborhood close to John Peter Smith hospital. Some of the films I saw there were 'The Golden Voyage of Sinbad', 'Zardoz', and the original 'Rollerball'. My Mom and I had moved to the Mid-Cities in 1976, and I believe the last time I went to the good ol' Twin was back in '78, watching a movie called 'Warlords of Atlantis', starring Doug McClure, that showed on it's east screen.

Even though it closed before I knew anything about it, I remember passing by the old Pike Drive-In's abandoned screen tower in the late '70s and early '80s, with it's faded and peeling mural and the surrounding high grass. If you're interested, there's a beautiful picture of the Pike's screen tower in all it's former glory when it opened in the book 'The American Drive-In Movie Theatre', by Don and Susan Sanders. If I remember correctly, wasn't it located on the corner of E. Lancaster Ave. and another street?

I'm currently doing some personal research on the drive-in theaters of Fort Worth, and have found some good basic information on them with some promising leads, and I've also been in contact with some people (like Brian) who have been very helpful with my endeavor.

Well, I just thought I'd drop you an e-mail. Thank you very much for sharing your memories. Glad to know your friend Sandy made it after all!

Sincerely,
Larry Martinez

Thanks for writing! I’m glad to hear you enjoyed my drive-in memories, also glad to make the acquaintance of someone who also remembers the Twin and especially the Pike.

Golden Voyage of Sinbad … Zardoz … Rollerball … not only do I miss the drive-in theatres, I miss the movies of that era. Of the three you mention, Rollerball in particular is one I can still watch over and over. I just wish I could watch it under the stars.

The precise location of the Pike is something Brian and I have discussed before, without any firm conclusions. You may be right about it being on the corner of E. Lancaster. I can’t remember, because the last time I saw the ruins of the screen tower was (I think) the early 70s when I used to commute up and down the road that ran through Handly, past Rose Hill Cemetery (Lee Harvey Oswald's last resting place), to my job at the newspaper in Arlington.

I have a copy of the book you mention. In fact, the Pike photo was the reason I bought it. If I ever find a color photo of the Pike in its 1950s neon glory, that would be the Holy Grail of Drive-In Photos for me.

And yes, I too am glad my old friend Sandy survived. Otherwise, it would have been a most unpleasant end to the evening.

Again, thanks for writing! Please stay in touch …

Physical Courage vs. Moral Courage

2008-05-16T11:15:00.001-05:00

In noting the distinction between physical and moral courage, Mark Twain once wrote: "It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare."

True, it is rare. There are many physically courageous people who would rather die in a cause they know to be unjust than to stand alone, risking the scorn of the world, and say, “Hell no, I won’t go.” Therefore, when we see such rare moral courage, we should take note of it:

US soldier refuses to serve in 'illegal Iraq war'

The Reality Police

2008-05-15T12:39:00.004-05:00

News Item: In early September, the Wikipedia inner circle banned edits from 1,000 homes and one massive online retailer in an attempt to suppress the voice of one man. His name is Judd Bagley, and when the ban came down, he hadn't edited Wikipedia in over a year. He was merely writing about the site, from his own domain. The Wikipedia elite blacklisted Judd Bagley because he accused them of using their powers to hijack reality … READ MORE

Yes, how comforting it is to know that Wikipedia is on the job, policing reality. Reality, is after all, our most precious resource.

By the way, speaking of Wikipedia, I stand corrected. A Wikipedian of somewhat kindlier disposition than is common among Wikipedians informs me that the sixth day has not yet been reached. Today is Day Five, meaning that the Deciders at Wikipedia have until some time after midnight to reach a decision on my notability.

When that happens, I expect I will feel a let-down, whichever way the decision falls. Because I have discovered that I like this state of indecision. I like the way, when my article pops up, you're immediately confronted with the message that says the article is being considered for deletion. I like it because it's an attention grabber. It arouses curiosity. It causes people to scroll down and read the article closer than they might have otherwise, and when they've read it, to scratch their heads and wonder why it's being deleted.

But, alas ... sooner or later, a decision will be reached. And then, Wikipedia will either delete or keep the article.

And I'm okay with being deleted. More than okay, in fact. Why, I think it would almost be better than this continued state of indecision, because if the article is deleted, I will become conspicuous by my absence. All my peers, all my friends in the alternative/underground comic scene will be on Wikipedia, but I won't be there. And this will cause people to wonder why. And then they will discover that my absence is not due to happenstance. No, it wasn't because someone forgot to write an article about me. I didn't fall through the cracks. No, I was actively deleted! I and only I! Now that is notability.

The only thing that could be better would be if Wikipedia did to me what they did to Mr. Judd Bagley cited in the news article above: banned edits from me and all my neighbors in Austin for criticizing Wikipedia on my own website. Publicity like that you can't buy.

Okay, let's check in at Wikipedia Decision Center, and see if they've come to a decision ...

No, they're still trying to decide ...

Pentagon Carpet Bombs the Opposition in Cyberspace

2008-05-15T12:36:00.001-05:00

Kurt Nimmo: As we know, however, the Pentagon’s target list is not confined to Russia and China. First and foremost, the Pentagon considers the civilian internet an “enemy weapons system,” as its Information Operations Roadmap makes obvious. “We Must Fight the Net. DoD [Department of Defense] is building an information-centric force. Networks are increasingly the operational center of gravity, and the Department must be prepared to ‘fight the net,’” the document declares. The PNAC neocons are fond of this idea — the idea that the entire internet is an enemy weapons system — and they wrote about it in their documents ... READ MORE

O'Reilly Goes Apeshit, Colbert Apes O'Reilly

2008-05-15T12:27:00.004-05:00

Who Is Slim Virgin?

2008-05-15T04:01:00.009-05:00

While waiting for a decision from the Deciders at Wikipedia Decision Central, I thought I'd kill some time by looking at the "history" of my Wikipedia article.

Oh, how interesting it turned out to be. For I found that, on April 21, 2006, none other than the notorious Wikipedia user Slim Virgin made a revision to my article in which she deleted (guess what!) mention of my appearance on the Alex Jones Show. SEE FOR YOURSELF!

In case you haven't heard of Slim Virgin, you should read the following articles about the infamous on-line spook:

From WikipediaReview.com: What We Know about Slim Virgin / a quickie summary

From WikipediaWatch.org: Spookypedia: SlimVirgin/Linda Mack/MI-5

Slim Virgin is not the Wikipedia user who nominated my article for deletion (more about that individual later), but if you look at the talk page regarding the nomination-for-deletion of the article you'll see that the paragraph regarding my appearances on the Alex Jones Show, Jack Blood's Deadline Live, and others was a chief point of contention. I say "was," because the paragraph has been removed in an effort to save the article from deletion.

And now let's check in at Wikipedia Decision Central to see if a decision has been decided upon by the Deciders ...

It appears that a decision has not been reached.

I don't get it. According to Wikipedia policy, decisions on article deletions are supposed to be reached within five days. But now, we are well in to the sixth day. This must be a harder than usual decision for the Deciders. Looks like we'll be waiting for a while.

While we're waiting, here are some stories about Wikipedia founder Jimbo Wales you will find amusing. Seems he helped his girlfriend Rachel Marsden "clean up" her Wikipedia entry:

The Dirtiest Wikipedia Sex Chat You Can Imagine

Is Jimmy Wales Getting Wikipedia in Legal Trouble?

That Jimbo Wales feller sure is a stinker, ain't he?

Now here's a quote from Jimbo:

"I think that one of the great strengths of the open collaborative approach is the fast and powerful destruction of untenable conspiracy theories. It is quite easy to watch a pseudo-documentary like ``Loose Change" and to find it compelling, until you back up and do some homework with the help of sites like Wikipedia."--Jimbo Wales,[1]02:48, 7 July 2006 (UTC); from the "9/11 Conspiracy Theories Page" of campaigns.wikia

Kinda' tells you everything you need to know about Wikipedia, doesn't it? Yep, it sure sounds like a shady operation to me.

Okay, it's been, what, ten whole minutes. Let's check back in to Wikipedia Decision Central ...

Still no decision.

Well, while we're waiting, here's something else funny you can read. It's from EncyclopediaDramatica: SlimVirgin ...

Okay, we've read the funny article about Slim Virgin. It's getting late. Surely, the Deciders have reached a decision by now. Let's check in with them ...

Oh, for Christ's sake, they still haven't reached a decision. I wish they would shit or get off the pot. How difficult can it be? Am I notable or not? All the references are in my article. I passed the "Google test" for notability. What are they waiting for?

Oh to hell with it. I'm going to bed ...

DECISION 2008: Bulletin

2008-05-14T18:49:00.005-05:00

No, a decision has not yet been reached, but we have obtained this exclusive, live webcam view of the scene at Wikipedia Command Central as administrators examine an Austin American-Statesman article about Mack White in an effort to reach an informed decision on his notability.

The Drama Continues

2008-05-14T17:44:00.011-05:00

DECISION 2008 ... the drama continues ...

So far, there has been no decision, but we are expecting it momentarily, the answer to the question, Is Mack White Notable?

Even now, as I write this, the geniuses at Wikipedia are conferring, trying to arrive at a decision. Perhaps, at this very moment, a decision has already been reached and a Wikipedia administrator is pushing the delete button that will send my article, along with the articles about G. Edward Griffin, Jack Blood, and so many other activists, straight down the ol' Memory Hole.

Oh, it is so odd ... so, very very odd, that out of all the artists listed on Wikipedia's List of Comics Journal interview subjects (in itself a sign of notability) I alone should have been singled out for deletion.

SMiles and I discussed this matter last night on PsiOp Radio. (Click here to listen.) On that show, I solemnly vowed that, if my article is deleted, I will go on a hunger strike until it is restored.

I said it, and I meant it. Don't think for one moment I was kidding. Unless this Wikipedia matter is resolved to my satisfaction, I will go on a hunger strike. I will refuse to eat my Wheaties. I will skip an entire breakfast, oh yes I will. Surely, the great Deciders at Wikipedia would not want that on their conscience.

Speaking of food, here are some pictures of me shucking oysters in Port Aransas last week:

Yum! Don't that look tasty?

Now, here's a picture of me enjoying that fine ocean air ...

DECISION 2008: Is Mack White Notable?

2008-05-13T12:41:00.006-05:00

What-Me-Notable?
"The rumors of my non-notability have been greatly exaggerated."—Mack White, with apologies to Mark Twain

The clock is ticking. The world awaits Wikipedia's decision on this burning question: Is Mack White notable? Or (gulp) ... is he not?

SMiles Lewis and I will be covering this historic decision LIVE TONIGHT on PSI-OP RADIO and discussing Wikipedia in general. We will also discuss the latest news regarding Big Brother surveillance, police brutality, the destruction of the Bill of Rights, forced immunizations, mass poisonings, false-flag terrorism, assassination, torture, war, and all the other kinds of monkey business we've come to expect from our government.

AND while you're listening to the show ... you can add your two-cents worth on these issues by calling us TOLL-FREE! Yes, it's now TOLL-FREE to call in to the show. Here's the number: (877) 738-3730.

The show starts at 8 pm EDT / 7 pm CDT / 6 MDT / 5 PDT/ 0100 UTC, and runs for two hours. To listen, go to either of these two networks: Revere Radio or Anomaly Radio.

Remember, if you miss the live broadcast, you can catch the show tomorrow in the PsiOp Radio Archives. But, if you can, please try to listen live so you can CALL US! ...

Trip's End

2008-05-03T16:13:00.001-05:00

Trip’s end … the sadness that it’s over, mixed with the yearning for home … plus I’m tired … and … moving … slow, due to my blistered feet … so many things I planned to see in Amsterdam, but they’ll have to wait for another time … I’m only able to check out the Rijksmuseum … and eat a hot dog in the nearby park (it’s a beautiful sunny day) and shop for souvenirs, high … no paranoia today, I am at peace … watching the boats on the canals, resting my blistered feet in a pub … dinner in another Turkish fast food place … then back to the hotel via Vondelpark … near the entrance of the park, I encounter a large group of scruffy characters … a big laughing bearded guy demands I buy him a beer … “give me a nickel!” he booms … I toss him a coin … then the guy beside him shouts “give me one too!” … I toss him one, then smile and wave and walk away before everyone starts demanding change … they wave back … the park is pleasant, couples strolling, children playing … I find a place where my smoke won’t bother anyone and sitting under a tree, light up … yes, Vondelpark is pleasant now, but I’ve been told it’s a place to avoid at night, due to the junkies … the scruffy boys aren’t so genial at that hour, nor likely to be satisfied with a Euro centavo …

Back in the hotel, I pack … then take a walk in the nearby park and smoke one more … then back in my room watch tv … the Simpsons subtitled in Dutch … Chandra calls and we arrange our meeting place at Central Station … main entrance, 8:30 … and set the alarm … and fall to sleep …

And in the morning while it’s still dark, take a shower, dress, then take one last walk in the nearby park and smoke … and toss my stash … regretfully … best to think of it as a sacrifice to the grass gods of Amsterdam … yes … some things must stay in Amsterdam …

Then check out of my hotel … I ask the Turkish desk clerk to call me a cab … nearby, a another hotel guest speaks up … he’s American … he talks like Jimmy Stewart … “hey,” he says, “maybe our friend will pick him up, I’ll bet he’s just around the corner” … the clerk hangs up and says to Jimmy Stewart: “yes, it’s him, he’s on the way” … I go outside to wait for the cab … the sun is coming up, bicycles stream past … Jimmy Stewart comes outside and says to me “this cabbie that’s gonna’ pick you up is a great guy, he just brought me here a few minutes ago. He saved my butt too. I had some papers for a meeting that a colleague gave me and darn it if I didn’t leave ‘em in the cab. We called the cab company and lucky for me this fellow was only a few blocks away. Brought ‘em right back to me and saved my butt …” the cab pulls up, and the cab driver, an older Dutchman in a suit, gets out … Jimmy Stewart thanks him again for saving his butt … the driver smiles and deposits my luggage in the trunk and off we go …

“Did you have a good time in Amsterdam?” the driver asks … “yes, I did” … “did you go to the Red Light District” he asks, smiling up into the rear view mirror … “no,” I laugh, “no Red Light District for me” … we’re traveling through the central part of Amsterdam … “you chose a good part of town to stay in,” he says, shaking his head “up here there’s too many different kinds of people all together … too many Turks …” at Central Station, we get out … he opens the trunk and hands me my luggage … I pay him … he smiles at the tip … “you are very kind,” he says, then leaning closer: “watch out for the junkies in Central Station” …

I make my way to what looks like the main entrance … it’s not very busy, which I attribute to the earliness of the hour … I buy some orange juice at a concession stand and stand with my luggage, waiting for Chandra to walk through the doors … we’re due to meet in about 30 minutes … a cop walks by … a few minutes later, I turn and see him standing behind me … he glances away … am I a suspicious character? … I go somewhere else to stand … I walk past the information desk … the man at the desk turns his head as I pass … I don’t like all this attention … I find a place where I can be by myself, but a few minutes later a young guy, long-haired with a scruffy beard, carrying a ragged shoulder bag, stands directly across from me … glances nervously over his shoulder, glances at me … does this several times … I get the feeling he wants to sell me whatever’s in his bag … my long hair makes him think I’m a potential buyer … this is one of those junkies I was warned about, a possible thief or street dealer you should never buy from … I walk away, find another place to stand … in a little while, three cops walk past me, one gives me a hard look … I get the feeling they think I’m a dealer … it’s my long hair … the cops walk on … then, after awhile, a black guy with dreadlocks materializes in front of me … tries to make eye contact … I walk away, find another place to stand, turn, and there he is … I go somewhere else, turn, there he is … wherever I go, there he is … he’s shadowing me … wants to sell me something … I decide to get rid of him by standing right beside the information counter … it works … he hurries outside … through the glass I see him running down the street … just then, the mobile phone in my pocket rings … it’s Chandra: “where are you?” … “in Central Station,” I say … “where in Central Station?” … “by the main entrance” … “no you’re not,” she says, “I’m by the main entrance” … I’m in the wrong place, I realize and tell her I’ll find her … I hurry down a long corridor and find myself in the real main entrance, a much busier place than where I was … I was in the exact place I should not be, the place where junkies dwell, the place where standing around for more than a few minutes brings you unwanted attention, both from junkies and the police who think you might be a junkie …

I rendezvous with Chandra … we board the train … no sooner are we settled in our seats than an announcement is made in Dutch and repeated in English that the train is not going anywhere … everyone has to get off and board another train … a group of confused young people are blocking the door … people shout at them “get off!” … they do … we hurry to the other train … board just in time … then we’re off to the airport … at the airport we go through the usual security nonsense, except we don’t have to take off our shoes … apparently, in Holland, they have not heard about shoe bombs … gratefully I walk through the metal detector with shoes on …

Our flight takes us to London, Gatwick Airport again … again we go through security … but this time have to take off our shoes … on the other side of the metal detector, I am frisked … then, while gathering up my shoes, laptop, coat, and carry-on-bag from the conveyor belt, notice my big white palm-leaf “Gus” hat is missing … Chandra tells the security people … turns out it’s stuck in the metal detector … they shut it down, someone fishes around inside it and pulls out my hat … a smiling security woman brings Bison Bill his hat, then we hurry to catch our plane to Dallas …

We take off … I look out the window at the passing earth below … the curious irregular patchwork that is England, unlike Holland which is more squared-off, like home … England passes, then Ireland … then ocean, and more ocean ... home is eight hours away … eight hours and an ocean away … home …

The Netherlands, Part Six

2008-04-17T16:03:00.008-05:00

The rain got heavier as I made my way north across the canals into the party district of Amsterdam. I took a break from the rain and stepped into a pub for a beer. In a little while, the rain let up, and I resumed my walk.

Tucked here and there among the restaurants and nightclubs were coffee shops. A friend had recommended two shops I should look for, and I had their addresses, but in the dark and confusion of the street it was awkward to consult the map. So I just walked around, hoping I would happen across one of them or, failing that, maybe find another one that looked right or had the right vibe.

I saw one that radiated bad vibes. Can't remember the name, but it was too big and crowded, too much flashing neon, loud music, large tv screens tuned to sports. No, I was looking for something something quieter, relaxing.

I found a few of these, but in each case grew indecisive before going inside. So I walking, kept looking. In a little while, I saw a closed sign on the door of a coffee shop. Uh-oh, I thought. I’m running out of time. I started back to one I had just seen, but now I couldn’t find it. Oh well, I thought, I'll just try the next one I see and hope for the best, if it's open.

The next one I saw was Stix, lit so dimly I wasn’t sure it was open. But when I tried the door it opened and I went inside. Very stark décor, black walls, and small, with only a few places to sit, one booth and some benches with ashtrays on tables. The booth was full (two couples talking American, something I hadn't heard in a while), but there was plenty of bench space.

A young man stood at the counter. I asked him what he recommended. "Do you want to get stoned or high?" he asked.

“High.”

In that case, he recommended the Diesel. He opened a cigar box packed full of thick fuzzy aromatic buds and held it up to me for inspection. Without hesitation, I said I would take five grams, the legal limit. He tore off a big beautiful bud and dropped it into a small zip-loc bag. I paid my 50 Euros (ouch), then sat down on a bench, rolled a joint, and lit up.

Two or three hits into the joint I realized I had not only spent too much money, I had also bought a lot more grass than I could possibly use. This was about a month's worth of smoking for me. Unfortunately, I would only be in Amsterdam for 36 more hours, and no way was I going to try taking this home.

It was also so strong, I realized, that if I smoked the entire joint I might have a hard time getting back to my hotel. So I smoked half, then dropped it into the zip-loc bag with the bud and stepped outside.

Now, which way had I come from? I couldn’t remember. My sense of direction was gone. It seemed like I had approached the shop from the left. That would mean I should turn right to go back the way I had come. This I did. But after walking a couple of blocks, I began to think I had made the wrong decision. Or had I? I couldn’t be sure. I kept walking. No, I'm going the wrong direction, I decided. Nothing looked familiar. And yet, maybe it only seemed unfamiliar due to my high state. The Diesel was powerful stuff. Under its effect, my own hometown would seem unfamiliar.

I kept walking. No, I thought, this isn’t right. I turned around. Bicycles whizzed past. I reminded myself about the bicycle lanes. High as I was, it would be very easy to forget.

I walked on. A tram passed, reminding me of a deadlier danger than bicycles. Whatever you do, I said to myself, stay the hell out of the way of those trams.

No sooner had this thought occurred to me than I saw the entire accident play out in my mind, with vivid realism: the moment of impact and horrible realization, the blood, the limbs flying—OH MY GOD I COULD DIE HERE!!!! I thought.

Don't panic. Just walk. Get to the hotel. Fast. So I walked. And walked.

Shortly, I thought I recognized my surroundings. I pulled out my map. If I was correct, Kerkstraat ws nearby. Yes, I thought, if I keep going this direction without getting hit by a tram, I'll come to Kerkstraat. And then on Kerkstraat, if I turn right (or is it left?) and keep going without getting hit by a tram, I should reach Weteringstrat (or is it Vijzelstraat? [no maybe it’s Stadhouderskade] no, it’s Kerkstraat—no wait a minute, I’m on Kerkstraat right now, I think) …

Whatever the name of the street was, it was a fairly quiet street, a good place to check my map without being observed. Standing under a street lamp, I took out the map. Then it occurred to me I could get mugged on a quiet street like this.

I glanced over my shoulder, saw no one, but that didn’t mean no one was there. Someone could be hiding, waiting for the right moment to pounce on me.

I put the map back in my pocket and started walking, quickly, aggressively. Don’t Act like you know where you’re going, I told myself. Don't act lost. And for God's sake get off this dark street. This may be a nice relaxed city in the daytime, but it’s nighttime now and several people warned me about the junkies. Albo’s words came back to me: “Be safe in Amsterdam, Mack.” His words seemed to be a presentiment. Something awful was about to happen. Again I thought, I could die here. Then, in a little while, as the paranoia increased, it was not a matter of "could." It would happen. Someone was following me, I was sure of it. I walked faster.

To my relief, I saw a more populated street ahead, a main thoroughfare that could only be Vijzelgracht, I thought, trying to remember a street I had glimpsed on the map. I hurried towards it, hopeful, but when I reached the intersection there were no street signs.

Doesn’t matter, I thought. I’ll just turn left (south?) and soon I’ll—I’ll what? I had no idea. I pulled out the map. Weteringschact should be right down there, I decided, and started in a southerly direction, or what I took to be a southerly direction.

In a little while I came to a street sign. Finally! I read it: Josef Israelskade.

Josef Israelskade? Where's Weteringschact? I took out the map and tried to find Josef Israelskade. I couldn't.

At this point it occurred to me I should look for a pub, go inside, find out where I am and ask directions to my hotel. But at the moment there were no pubs. Okay, I'll just keep walking till I find a pub.

I walked on. In a little while, I thought I recognized a street: Staadhouderskade! But no, it wasn't Staadhouderskade, it was some other street, Weteringschact or Rostenburgerstraat or Sint Willibrordusstraat, or some other name.

This happened over and over again. I would think I had found my way, then after walking a long way to find a street sign, would discover it was another street with another strange name and it wasn't on the map. But then, I would start to get my bearings, I thought, and my heart would rebound, only to sink again, and each time sink lower as I began to come to grips with the truth I had been denying: I had no idea where I was, and the more I walked, the more lost I became. But it wouldn't do to stop walking, because my only hope was to keep moving, in the hopes I would somehow stumble on wherever it was I was needed to be to get back to the hotel.

It was a terrible dilemma, made nightmarish by the foreignness of the names—Quellijnstraat, Wouwermanstraat, Uiterwaardenstraat—and, of course, the Diesel.

I walked on, looking for a pub. Earlier they had been everywhere. Now I couldn't find any. I had seen cabs earlier too, and foolishly hadn't hailed one. That was what I really needed, because now, to make matters worsse, my feet were blistering.

The blisters were slowing my gait. That was no good, I remembered. Got to walk aggressively, don't look lost, etc. I picked up the pace. Faster and faster I walked, faster and faster, ignoring the pain in my feet. Faster and faster. Someone jumped out of my way.

Okay, maybe I’m walking a little too fast, I thought. I slowed down. Then, up ahead I saw an Amstel beer sign over a doorway. A pub!

I went inside. It was busy. I found a place at the bar and ordered an Amstel. When the bartender brought it to me, I asked if he could help me get a cab.

“Do you want it later or right now?”

“Right now.”

He went into the back and called the cab. I took a long, soothing drink of the Amstel. Ah yes ...

In a little while, the bartender told me the cab was out front. I left a couple of Euros on the bar, then hurried outside. “Best Western Delphi Hotel,” I told the cab driver, “on Apollolaan.”

Helooked at me quizzically for a moment, then shrugged and off we went. In my pocket my cell phone rang. It was Chandra, back from a day trip to Delft, calling from her bed-and-breakfast to see if I had arrived in Amsterdam. “Yes,” I said, “I’m in a cab right now going back to my hotel. Let’s talk after I get there.”

I sank back comfortably in my seat, relieved after my long nightmarish paranoid walk, to have heard Chandra's voice and now be off my feet and heading for the hotel. Or was I? The cab, I noticed, was moving through dark back streets. Was this like a Mexican cab where they took you to the edge of nowhere and robbed you and left you for dead. But, before I could get too paranoid, the the cab came to a stop. We were already at the hotel! I couldn't believe it. The ride had taken less than a minute. I had assumed I was in an entirely wrong part of the city, but apparently, after all that walking, with no idea where I was going, I had somehow managed to end up just around the corner from my hotel. Which explained the driver's quizzical expression (you want me to take you around the corner?). I tipped him, perhaps (judging by his surprised smile) too generously, but I was happy and in a generous mood …

(to be continued)

The Netherlands, Part Five

2008-04-13T16:32:00.003-05:00

So easy. Just follow her, he said, sliding the envelope across the table that day in the Denny’s in Fort Worth. I didn’t ask what it was all about. Didn't have to. I recognized the woman's last name. It had been in the papers lately. Messy divorce, millions at stake. Millions at stake, of course, meant someone, in this case the oil-rich bastard, had plenty of cash to throw around. And if some of the moolah landed in my direction—well ...

So I flew to London. Stayed in a flat across from hers, it had all been arranged. Someone else had the day shift. At night I took over. The first night, nothing. She stayed home. Next night, she took the Tube. I followed her. She met some guy in the OXO Tower. I took pictures with my cuff-link camera, followed her back home. Then on the third night, Easter Monday, I followed her again to the Tube station. Mind the gap, mind the gap. I was standing two people behind her. I could hear the train approaching. Suddenly someone shouldered me aside, heavy guy, dark complexion. Turkish? Mind the gap. In an instant he pushed her onto the tracks. Everyone screamed and—

I woke up. I've been dreaming, I realized. A dream noir. So realistic, such detail, and strangest of all, I had been someone else. Not a trace of my own identity. Weird.

Clop clop clop clop. Was I hearing horses? I got out of bed, looked out the window and seconds later a team of Clydesdales appeared below, pulling a wagon full of Heineken kegs.

I'm in Amsterdam, I thought. I'm me, Mack White, not some character in dream noir. And now I'm rested, and hungry, and ready to find something to eat and see Amsterdam without having to haul around my luggage.

It was raining, not too heavy but heavy enough for an umbrella, so I brought mine. I walked to nearest main thoroughfare, Stadhouderskaade, and began looking for a restaurant. The rain let up. It was cold, but a pleasant walk nonetheless. Now and then I would stop to examine a menu posted outside a restaurant or pub, then decide it wasn’t what I wanted or cost too much. No problem. I was in no hurry, even though everyone around me was in a hurry. It appeared to be the afternoon rush hour in Amsterdam, bicycles whizzing along the bicycle paths, street crowded with cars and the trams, and the trams packed with people and the sidewalks packed too, a big thrilling hustle-and-bustle.

At some point, I found myself strolling along a stretch of wide-open sidewalk uncrowded by pedestrians, hands in pockets, taking my leisurely time, when a bicycle shot past me so close the bicyclist’s sleeve brushed mine. He glanced back at me, frowning. Then I heard shouts behind me. I turned and saw five bicyclists coming towards me at a high rate of speed. Oh my god! I’m in a bicycle lane!

I jumped out of the way just in time, feeling foolish and cussing myself. For the past two days, in Rotterdam and Utrecht, I had followed my hosts Marcel and Albo’s example and stayed off the bicycle paths. But now, here I was on my own in Amsterdam with no examples to follow, and though I knew to stay off the bicycle paths, it had not become a habit to me yet. Thus, it was all too easy to forget and stray into a bicycle path. Which is most unwise, given the speed with which the bicycles travel and their numbers. An accident would be very bad. Bad, bad, bad. Don't do that again, I told myself.

I decided on a Turkish fast food place at the corner of Kinkerstraat and Nassaukade. It was called The Corner. I ordered The Corner Burger. The fries came with mayonnaise. Now, where had I heard of that before? Ah yes, Pulp Fiction.

While eating, I came to a decision about something. Ever since I had begun planning this trip, I had wondered if I should check out a coffee shop. At one time in my life, there would not have been a moment’s indecision. Yes, I absolutely would indulge in "Dutch coffee." But, over the past five or six years, I have not done a great deal of grass. Oh, I’ll smoke a joint if it’s offered to me, but I don’t use it regularly anymore. Long list of reasons, the main ones being: It costs too much, finding a connection is a pain in the ass, it’s one more thing the cops can use to fuck you over, and is it something I really need?

But, in Holland, those reasons don’t apply. You can walk right into shop and buy it for not too terribly much, smoke it right there in public, carry it around with you, and never worry about the cops.

So that took care of those reasons, but there was another one: The panic reaction I sometimes experience when I do grass. It happens, of course, because I don’t use it often, therefore don’t have the tolerance I once did. And the panic, or paranoia, is particularly pronounced if the grass is super-potent.

A few months ago, for instance, some friends offered me a superb, high-grade smoke. Then we walked to a Mexican restaurant. On the way—YIKES!!! I thought I was going to leave my body. But I didn’t want to leave my body! What if I couldn’t get back in?! I was just about to ask my friends to carry me back to the house and call 911(come quick, he's about to have an out-of-body experience!) when we arrived at the restaurant. Good food and conversation with friends brought me back to Planet Earth and I was able to enjoy myself.

But here in Amsterdam, I was not with friends. I was alone among strangers in a foreign country, already homesick for Texas and Diane, and to make matters worse, all the grass here, not just some, all of it is super-potent—a perfect recipe for a panic reactioni that could reach epic proportions and maybe kill me. Could I handle it?

Well, I decided, I’ll never know if I don’t give it a try. I finished my fries and mayo, and went across the street to a little store to buy a lighter and some papers. It was getting dark and starting to rain again …

The Netherlands, Part Four

2008-04-12T23:48:00.003-05:00

I stepped outside of Central Station and made my way through the crowd looking for the place I’d been told I could get information about the tram. But all I found was a map that made no sense and anyway, there was no place to buy a ticket.

I saw a line of waiting cabs, thought about it, then decided against it, decided to err on the side of the caution, because, you see, my only experience with cabs in a foreign country was Mexico where a cabbie might take you someplace you don’t want to go and there might be a difference of opinion about the fare, to say nothing of the tip.

No, I wasn’t going to risk it. And I wasn’t going to take the tram either. It would take too long to figure it out and find a place to buy a ticket. No, I could get to my hotel faster on foot. Amsterdam is a small city, everyone said. You can get anywhere on foot.

I crossed the street and stepped inside a souvenir shop. Bought a map. Then went some place to study it, in private—that is, not standing in the middle of the sidewalk with my rolling suitcase and my shoulder bag with laptop, passport, and a five-thousand Euros inside, in other words with a sign on me that said, “I’m a tourist. Rob me.”

I found a McDonalds, went inside, bought a bottled water (“yeah, that’s all I want”) and sat down in a booth. Yeah, I can do it, I thought. Then, memorizing the street names and canals, and a few landmarks—Madame Tussauds, Heineken brewery, etc.—went back out onto the street and started my walk, passing the Sex Museum, Madame Tussauds, the Grasshopper coffee shop, crossed a street or two and right away forgot every street name I had memorized. I pulled out the map, put on my glasses, and two seconds later a grizzled guy walked up and said in heavily accented English, “Can I help you? Are you lost? Do you want me to take you to the Arbus Hotel?”

“What street am I on?” I asked him.

“Do you want me to take you to the Arbus Hotel?”

“I don’t know about any Arbus Hotel,” I said, holding out the map. “Show me where I am.”

He pointed out my location on the map. I thanked him. He said, “I’m homeless. I could use your help.”

I gave him a few Euro centavos, he thanked me, and I proceeded south through the city. Marijuana scenting the air outside the coffee shops. Bicyclists speeding past in their red-brick lanes. The crowds thinning out as I got farther from the tourist district. I crossed a canal, maybe two canals, maybe three, four—I don’t know. I’d been warned it was a disorienting city with all the canals, and it was. Disorienting.

After awhile I saw the Heineken brewery and knew I was on the right track. I walked some more. Then came to a street I believed to be near my hotel, a quiet neighborhood, mostly residential, very respectable looking, but couldn’t be sure it was the right place. Street signs so few, names so strange, and the signs not placed in a prominent location. I unfolded my map, put on my glasses.

Just then, a young woman pulled up on her bicycle and asked if I was lost. I said I didn’t think so. She said was I sure and I said, “Is the Best Western Delphi down that a’way?” She said yes. I said, “Then I’m not lost. Thanks!” And she smiled and rode away.

I crossed the street and sure enough, there it was, my hotel. I checked in. The room was small, but inviting. I fell onto the bed, dead tired, and looked at the clock. Too early to call home, everyone would still be asleep in Texas. I felt sleepy myself, sleepy and homesick. And tired of traveling, the luster having worn off. And worried …

It was supposed to be an easy job, you see. An easy job and easy money, a blank check made out to the charity of my choice. You know what I mean. Just the kind of job I needed at this time in my life. Easy money, easy money. Yeah, just follow some oil-rich bastard’s third ex-wife to London, and report back on what you see. Just follow, just report, and wait for further instructions. And then, collect more money, more easy money at the end of the rainbow. So easy …

(to be continued)

LIVE TONIGHT: PsiOp Radio 4/8/08

2008-04-08T15:20:00.002-05:00

If you're waiting for me to tell the rest of my Netherlands adventures, don't worry. I won't leave you hanging. I will wrap up the story in another day or two.

In the meantime, SMiles Lewis and I will be broadcasting a new LIVE edition of PsiOp Radio tonight. We'll get started at 8 pm EDT / 7 pm CDT / 6 MDT / 5 PDT/ 0100 UTC. As usual, you can hear us on line at these two networks: Revere Radio or Anomaly Radio. Our call-in number is (347) 996-3510 ...

The Netherlands, Part Three

2008-04-03T13:00:00.005-05:00

Albo Helm, standing before the 17th century
main building of Utrecht University
As we walked to Albo Helm’s home in the central part of Utrecht, he said, “I live in the neighborhood with the most criminals.”

This was a completely true statement. A stone’s throw from Albo's front door is a prison, built by Napoleon and still in use. Albo’s home is a row house built in the 1850s to house prison guards and their families.

Back home in Texas, anything built in the 1850s is an object of great curiosity and significant historical value—the Neill-Cochran house in Austin, for instance. In Albo’s neighborhood, however, this barely rates as old. For this is the medieval quarter of Utrecht.

Albo took me on a tour of the area. We started our walk by following the original moat that still partially surrounds the area ...

Nearby was a remnant of the old city wall ...

A medieval courtyard ...

An observatory built in the 1500s ...

Approaching the Dom Church, built in the 1200s ...

In the seventeenth century, the nave of the church was destroyed by a tornado, leaving the graves in the floor exposed to the sky ...

One of the newer buildings, built in 1775 ...

Albo draws inspiration from medieval Utrecht. On Sunday mornings when the streets are empty, he says, the place feels timeless, haunted by the many souls who have lived here through the centuries.

In addition to his many other projects, Albo produces a comic magazine, De Inktpot, that showcases the work of Utrecht's cartoonists. Utrecht, of course, is the setting for these comic strips, and in a very real sense might be said to be the central character.

We finished our walk, then rendezvoused with Albo's woman friend Thea and their daughter Kina at a very fine restaurant. They treated me to a wonderful meal and lively conversation. Kina's boyfriend joined us briefly, then they went their own way, while Thea, Albo, and I took a leisurely stroll past the night spots of central Utrecht. Thea headed home, while Albo stopped for one more round of beer and talked till my eyes began to cross from beer and sleepiness.

We headed home. Thea had made a comfortable pallet for me on the floor of Albo's studio. I sank into it and slept like a baby, then in the morning joined Albo and Thea for breakfast. In a little while, it was time to go. Albo walked me to the train station. "Be safe in Amsterdam, Mack," he said ...

(to be continued)

The Netherlands, Part Two

2008-04-02T14:12:00.009-05:00

Marcel Ruijters (with one of his sculptures)
Marcel and I boarded a tram and rode it down a multi-ethnic street of shops and restaurants—Chinese, Turkish, Indian. A large picture of Krishna looked down from the top of one of the taller buildings. It is a neighborhood also favored by artists, such as Marcel, for its affordability.

Marcel led me to his apartment over one of the shops. I left my luggage there, then we walked to the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen where a painter friend and neighbor of Marcel’s, Ewoud van Rijn, was exhibiting his work. The installation, “Through Hell and High Water,” was very impressive—swirling, surrealist waterscapes, cartoonish skeletons, bats, and nymphs, in a style reminiscent of Rick Griffin. I spent considerable time with these paintings and made a mental note to look up this artist on the Internet when I got home.

We also looked at the museum’s collection of fifteenth century Dutch paintings. The work of Geertgen tot Sint Jans particularly caught my attention, my favorite being De verheerlijking van Maria.

Afterwards, we had dinner at a Middle Eastern restaurant, then started hitting the pubs for a night of beer drinking and conversation. We talked politics and art mostly. Our last pub of the evening was in one of the few sections of Rotterdam where older buildings still stand, most of the original city having been destroyed by the Nazi bombs during World War II. On the way back home, Marcel pointed out a traditional Dutch windmill down the street. We walked along a canal. Just as we were about to cross it on the drawbridge, bells began clanging and traffic came to a stop. We, too, came to a stop. The drawbridge was opening to let a barge pass.

Back at Marcel's apartment, he presented me with a copy of his new book, a graphic novelization of Dante's Inferno. It might be more accurate to call it Marcel Ruijter's Inferno, as this is a free adaptation stamped with Marcel's own vision. Visually, it is unique as well, a real treat for the eyeballs. Marcel's style is strongly influenced by medieval art. Which, as he puts it, makes him more retro than any other comic artist.

To get a glimpse of Marcel's Inferno, check out this video of the book's release party, where the original artwork was displayed, all 119 pages. At present, the work is available only in Dutch (Marcel gave me an English translation of the text, so I am able to read it). However, an official English edition should be published soon.

I slept well at Marcel's place. In the morning, I could hear the trams moving outside on the street. Rotterdam was awake. It was time for me to wake up as well and begin the next phase of my trip.

Marcel walked me to the train station. On the way we stopped by the home of Tonio van Vugt and Helmi Scheepers. Tonio is one of the founders of the Dutch comics and culture magazine Zone 5300 that regularly features work by Marcel and has on occasion published my work (translated by Marcel). A few years ago the future of the magazine was uncertain, but it has survived and is better than ever.

I greatly enjoyed my visit with Tonio and Helmi. Before I left, they took me up to the rooftop of their apartment to see the view of Rotterdam ...

Helmi, Marcel, and Tonio
Marcel walked me to the train station. We said goodbye. Our visit had been all too brief, but a lot of fun and rewarding. I am very glad that, after ten years' correspondence, not to mention working with each other on The Bush Junta, we finally met face to face.

I boarded my train for Utrecht. Now it was time to meet Albo Helm ...

(to be continued)