THE LIBERTARIAN ENTERPRISE
Number 628, July 17, 2011
"There is nothing wrong with America today except that it's
run by and for the criminal class and always has been."
Special to L. Neil Smith's The Libertarian Enterprise
It was ten in the morning on a Thursday. I was just getting going for the day, drinking coffee, planning some next moves. The upcoming Meat Space Gathering of the Boston Tea Party at the end of the month was very much on my mind. The calendar read 14 May 2009, and everything political was continuing to make no sense at all.
Ten minutes later, Adam Mueller was under arrest in Jones County, Mississippi. It was 10:14 when the corrected tweet went out on the Twitter network to explain the where and what happened. Three fellows involved in a freedom project called Motor Home Diaries (#MHD for the hash tag) were driving on the Interstate when an egregious group of violent criminals, the Jones County Sheriff department, saw their recreational vehicle and began salivating. You can read more about it on the Motorhomediaries.com web site. And this essay is not primarily about that story. But it is worth knowing.
A few minutes later, a status update was posted to Facebook by none other than the charming and vivacious Allison Gibbs. Now, like any other red-blooded American male, I noticed Allison from her Facebook photos way back in December 2007 or so, as we both had an interest in the Ron Paul for president campaign. (My interest in the campaign extended to a number of donations, attending meet up groups in Texas, Kansas, North Carolina, Missouri, and campaigning in the aforementioned states and South Carolina.) Allison wanted help getting her friend Adam out of jail.
My role in this activity was to sit in front of the computer for something over eight continuous hours. I re-posted Allison's status updates. I sent funds via Western Union. I contacted other people, including David Nolan, and got their assistance. Allison flew to Jackson, Mississippi and got a ride to Jones County from a volunteer. I found a lawyer with libertarian credentials to offer immediate help. A call flood was commenced.
Many, many, many people rallied in support. Probably the most credit for the successful bailing out of the three Motor Home Diaries crew and the subsequent retrieval of their recreational vehicle was due to the persistence and communications verve of Allison Gibbs. The freedom community stood up, demanded justice, and Allison's friends were released. Later, they disputed the charges in court.
They Went Mental
My role in these events was unlimited. My friend was pushed down the stairs by her husband, I was informed, and believed, and continue to believe. She was injured in a domestic violence assault and battery, as I understand what happened. Her attempts to call 911 were thwarted by her evil former father-in-law (now merely her nothing-in-law). Her other efforts to communicate were effectively thwarted until she pointed out that she was being held incommunicado against her will, which is kidnapping. She limped outside and threatened to involve the neighbours. As these events came into my awareness, I became as angry as I've ever been. Which would likely surprise a few friends of mine in Africa.
Now it happens that 7 January I had risen from slumber at noon for various good reasons. By 03:00 on the 8th, I was just about to hang it up for the night. My friend Mark Quon sent me a Facebook message, copying as many people as he could imagine would be able to help. I checked messages right before heading for bed. And there was a cry for help.
I was in a position to get to Shaun in a few hours drive time. So I woke up everyone I could reach, which turned out to be Brad Spangler, already awake, and Bill Stone aforementioned. Bill had awakened at about 3 a.m. himself with the middle-age call of nature to answer. And he checked messages, for which I am very grateful. And that was how we came to be chosen to answer a voice crying out in the wilderness, crying out in pain and anguish.
This essay is also not about that story. But I want you to know that Bill drove 280 miles from Iowa, I drove from Kansas, picked up Brad on the way (-ish) and we met at about 9 a.m. in a place called Booneville that exists in part because Interstate-70 runs through there. We then headed to where Shaun had been living. Having two vehicles, we had Bill on camera, me on confrontation, and Brad standing at the street as a distraction. Shaun was much relieved to find our small posse had arrived.
It got worse, though, and there was a point at which Shaun was marched out of her home by Cole county sheriff in handcuffs and manacles. Brad, Bill, and I were called upon to go to the mental hospital in Columbia, Missouri where we found immense assistance from a very wide community. Mark had gotten everyone up.
Pete Eyre and Michelle Seven called the hospital and delightfully got through. I got a law firm to appoint the three of us as paralegals, and we got past the last yellow door. The ward nurse was on Shaun's side, given the apparently perjured testimony accusing her of taking more of a certain drug than would kill or put into a coma a woman of her body mass.
It took everyone we hadBill's knowledge of psychiatric treatment and procedures, Brad's very calm demeanour, my bullheadednessand a simple willingness to stand in the waiting room, not sit down, not complain, but stand there until our sister was released. Had someone not been there to drive her home, she would have been held overnight. It turns out that a great many spouses and in-laws think that a woman is crazy if she reports to the police a domestic violence assault and battery. So mental hospitals routinely have to face these kinds of casesand think of all the women who don't have friends willing to assemble, drive on little sleep, and head over to help out.
What we did was heralded by a few, but largely unnoticed outside our community. And that's entirely fine. Our purpose was to help our friend, to answer the cry for help. We did that thing, and went back to our own lives.
Hitching a Ride
Which was very kindly published by my friend L. Neil Smith in The Libertarian Enterprise, thanks to the sharp editing talent of Ken Holder. http://www.ncc-1776.org/tle2011/tle627-20110710-08.html And, again, it is not what this essay is about. Which I've said a third time now, and you are about to go ape all over your keyboard jamming out a transmission by e-mail to the effect that my heritage, education, and personal grooming are lacking in every particular. Fine. I'll get to the point real soon now.
Ethan Lee Vita, as he is known to me, was hitching rides in Illinois a few days ago. He was accompanied by the very awesome Nicola Zawesome. And they got stopped. Questioned by a pig. Ethan was arrested. Word reached me. I told some others. Within a very short time, as Bill recounts at the essay just linked, we raised Ethan's bail money.
It came together for me in part because I had just realised how very much money the pigs were scamming off everybody. So I submitted this essay about sources of cash for the police state. http://www.ncc-1776.org/tle2011/tle627-20110710-07.html Which was very kindly published at the same time in the same issue by the aforementioned demigods of freedom, Neil and Ken. [Aw shucks, Jim, I'm just a doofusKen Holder, Editor]
Well, actually, one more thing happened. A friend of mine, Josh Carter, was at a baby shower for Cat Bleish, where I was favoured to attend as well, and got a call about a friend of his in trouble. I provided my cell phone and a call to Sandy Sandfort, the inimitable legal expert and co-author of the "Escape from Terra" graphic novel series.
And it was on like dawn!
We get SMART
A sovereign mutual aid rescue team would be assembled. It would help people stay in touch, especially when entering danger zones. It would help people with bail money, or the quick raising of bail. It would help people with legal defence funds. And it would go after the abuse of office, the official oppression, and get back tens of millions out of the hides of the very most abusive police officers, sheriffs, and politicians. We'd go get their homes, their assets, their bank accounts, their pensions. And use those funds to expand our network, worldwide. We would hear those crying in the wilderness, suffering oppression, and we would come for them. We would leave no person behind.
Thus was created a Facebook note a few days ago called "State Busting for Fun and Profit." The response was dramatic. About 87 comments, 52 "likes" from a wide array of activists. Many people shared or re-posted the note. We got our first customer within three days. Our first two sales volunteers the next day. Our legal team re-drafted and complained about terms and conditions, finally building up six pages in one long session. I was aghast, frankly.
But we're there. The University Association, as the terms of service has it, or the Sovereign Mutual Aid Response Team, as a recent name-storming session with John Bush has it, is born. We're serious. And we provide serious services.
We are doing everything we do on an open source, fully transparent basis. We have no secrets, except for the secrets of our members. We have no desire to be the only player in the market. We want competitors. We want allies. And we're eager to see other people do what we're doing, and do it better. As the agorist repair man in "Brazil" says, "We're all in this together!"
If there is a tornado, a flood, a hurricane, a volcano, a wildfire, we will be there, we will find you, and we will rescue you. It's cold out there and you don't want to get left.
Excessive Bail Shall Not Be Imposed
There is no reason to let this police state tyranny go on. There is no reason to allow ourselves and our families and our friends to pay and pay into a system which oppresses us. We have to stop the collect calls from jail being a source of huge cash to nasty contractor companies. We have to stop the prison industry. We have to bring them to their knees. We have to roll back the war on drugs.
We're organising. And we're determined. Lead with us, follow along with us, or get out of our way. Freedom is coming and it is popular.
It used to be that identity was generated in a community. Your family knew your name and told your friends. Pretty soon the whole town knew. And that was real identityyou were known as a person, by other people. Identity papers are a fake. They don't help.
For one thing, identity papers multiply entities unnecessarily William of Ockham would be horrified. You don't know someone. You ask for their driver licence. Why? You don't know who issued that hunk of plastic. You don't know any of the people involved in taking the licence application and fee, taking the photo, mailing the licence. So you've multiplied the number of people you don't know by a large factor.
Identity should come back to the individual and his friends and associates. We're going to start down that path together.
We're angry. We're determined. And we're SMART.
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