I find it Encouraging to read people that understand Economics, and the fact that Everything Humans do is an economic transaction of some type.
The truth of the collapse is all around us as our government of greedy self-centered individuals deny, lie, and attempt to conceal their culpability.
That Empires end in Tyranny and are often replaced by even worse tyranny is well known, yet we continue to believe (irrationally) that ours will be different. NO. China nor Russia are going to take over America. The new rulers will likely be some corporatist (fascist) . As our so called 'elections' are just popularity contests, there is little thought to how some clown will promise to drain the swamp if we just give them the POWER to become a tyrant. Interesting Times. The Sheep always beg to be saved by the wolf in sheep clothing. To lazy to be in charge of their own lives. My hope is for a more peaceful split at state or county level. No reason to have large territories of Unaccountable Political hacks. Keep it small, controllable like Switzerland.
There are enough truth bombs here to fill a truck. The fascist/corporatist take-over is clearly underway, and has been since the beginning of the 20th century. Once corporations gained "person" status, it was all over (see my book). I'm increasingly of the opinion that Trump is a set up for the final show down. This coming election is the Shootout at the OK Corral, with Socialists on one side, and Fascists on the other, and neither side gives a rat's behind about us humans.
Economics is everything. Even the word comes from the Greek, meaning "household management". To control economics is to control the most basic human interactions, which is why installing a global economic system is the ultimate prize. Us little folks have no say in the outcome. The battle is taking place far above our heads.
Chalk and charcoal are among my favorite media. You can get amazingly soft and supple forms from them, with a very ephemeral quality about it.
I have always found that humans, when left alone to live life as they see fit, are wonderful creatures. However, it takes tremendous integrity and fortitude to resist amassing and wielding power, and that is the great weakness of our species. We are constantly tempted to assert our way over others, since we imagine we know better than anyone else.
I had a lovely mother-in-law, a tiny Javanese woman who really didn't like me from the git-go, because I was a foreigner. Over time, though, as I learned to speak Javanese and couldn't get enough of her cooking no matter how spicy she made it, we eventually made peace and even formed an alliance of mutual respect. Perhaps a metaphor for life in general.
Rufus: You earn extra points for making an alliance of mutual respect with your mother-in-law. Do you know the Navajo custom?
In Navajo culture the man always goes to live with his bride's family in their pueblo. The mother-in-law wears a bell around her neck to warn the son-in-law of her approach. The mother-in-law and the son-in-law are forbidden to talk to each other or even look at each other.
If they do talk or look at each other the both have to go into separate sweat lodges for three days to remove the evil spirits.
The Navajo mother-in-law bells are popular tourist items.
Interesting you should mention the Navajo. I dated a Navajo waaaay back in my New Mexico period. I had forgotten all about the ritual until this moment. Her father was a healer/doctor, and I learned some herbal medicine from him, and later from a curandera in a seperate adventure. Unfortunately, I ended up marrying an Apache, and thereby hangs a tale.
With my Javanese MIL, I had to overcome her girlhood memories of waves of soldiers accosting her family during WW2. First it was the Dutch, then the Japanese, then the Americans. It seems, though, I atoned for their sins and distanced myself from that experience. She always called me "bule" (white boy), but it went from a tone of derision to one of affection, and for my part, I made sure to bring chocolate bars whenever we went home to the "kampung". Anyway, I paved the way for my son-in-law, who's a Limey, from Manchester no less, and he had a much easier time of it.
I've never been called a "round eye". The most common moniker is "bule" (boo-lay), which might come from the Portuguese word "albino," but no one really knows. Another common one is "bugil," or "bule gila" (crazy white boy).
Still in one piece physically, but she shredded my mental self. I had Lakota, Comanche and Winnebago friends each tell me the same thing completely independent of each other. Apparently, it is a universal truth that Apache women are constantly rearranging the furniture.
A rather large piece of me has never left New Mexico. It truly is the Land of Enchantment. The best book I've ever read that absolutely captures New Mexico is "The Milagro Beanfield War". Spot on. Here's one of the places I lived:
"The Milagro Beanfield War" is one of my favorite books and movies. Oddly enough, the small town that Robert Redford used to film the movie ended up being gentrified like the
fictional Milagro because of the movie.
Interesting that Greer Garson had a connection to a college in New Mexico.
The Albuquerque JT was no doubt an interesting newspaper to work for.
I did spend a few days in Albuquerque in Nov. 1975. My first wife's brother was an assistant District Attorney in the city. He loved New Mexico. All I remember of the city is orange dry desert and blue sky.
So you were a monk in the desert? That seems boring. What to do? Farming? A brewery? Peyote? No doubt it was quiet.
There was in a section of town called Menteng, for about 3 months (Dec 2009 - Feb 2010). It was shoved in a shed somewhere for a time, then redisplayed at his childhood home - which someone tried to make a museum that went bust - and then it disappeared again. I haven't heard anything about it since then.
He apparently had a very privileged childhood here, staying quite a bit at the Indo version of Camp David up in the mountains with Soeharto and family. All his time here is carefully stage managed and it's hard to get any verifiable information, though I did meet one of his classmates (so claimed) a while back.
When he was first selected, Indonesians went wild. They thought for sure they'd get some respect from the West, now that one of their own was the US dictator. However, in 8 years, Obama only came here once and otherwise stayed far away from even the topic, since it reminded everyone he wasn't Constitutionally able to hold office. The one time he did come, he spoke maybe a handful of words in Indonesian, and the media went berserk, but it wasn't enough for folks to not feel slighted and eventually resentful.
Anyway, the Obama museum went bust pretty quickly, folks got upset about a statue to someone who wasn't an actual Indonesian hero, and these days no one even remembers him. All for the greater good, I say.
Rufus: My friend who lived in Jakarta for years managing the big resort there, told me that Barry and his parents lived in the area where all the government spooks and military lived.
I went down the "Who is Barry?" rabbit hole years ago. He's an enigma with no past. Many say his mom worked for the CIA as did her parents. Barry's maternal grandmother ran the bank in Honolulu that dispensed CIA funds across the Pacific for CIA operations.
Barry's birth certificate from Hawaii is fake. His African dad was a drunk who died in a car accident. Men who were in the political science class at Harvard that Barry was supposedly enrolled in never saw him.
I enjoyed watching today's RPLR (Ron Paul Liberty Report). The segment about the squatters in the NYC house was fascinating, but I'm not surprised that the homeowner was arrested for changing the locks on her property. NYC doesn't respect property rights.
Here in Sonoma County, CA there is a history of squatters. When the USA declared war on Mexico in 1848, the Mexican landowners, ranchers, and businessmen fled to Mexico. It's a similar situation to the Palestinians fleeing their homes in Israel during the 1967 War.
After the War with Mexico, many Federal troops and other European settlers squatted on Mexican land around Healdsburg and in the valleys of the old Mexican estates.
Our friend Gala Norton's great-grandfather Louis Norton was sheriff of Sonoma County after the War with Mexico. His job was to remove squatters from Mexican-owned land.
Louis Norton was a huge bear of a man with a disciplined attitude—kind of a John Wayne type. Louis would approach the squatters and tell them to git! Sometimes, there were altercations, but most of the squatters were forced to buy the land from the Mexican owners, who were all too happy to sell. The owners went to live in Mexico or Spain.
Louis Norton was also famous for facing down a grizzly bear that had climbed the huge redwood tree in the front yard of their house in Healdsburg (the tree is still there.) Norton came out of the house, stared at the big bear, and told it to git! The bear climbed down out of the tree and headed for the hills.
When Louis Norton died, the coroner found 12 bullets in his body from old gunfights. He probably died of lead poisoning. Louis Norton is buried in Oak Mound Cemetery here in town.
New York is notorious for not enforcing property rights. There have been legendary fights between landlords and sticky renters, and the whole rent control nightmare just exacerbates the whole issue. In some cases, there have been many layers of sub-lets to unravel in trying to evict tenants. That is the last place I'd ever want to own property in any situation.
As for Paul Bunyan, er...Louis Norton, it sounds as if he had more than his fair share of Neaderthal blood in him.
"Our Democracy" is a trade mark and tag line for a private corporate entity to which I owe zero loyalty or fealty. By the bye, April 15th is coming up. You might enjoy reading Sec. 86 of the Internal Revenue Code, concerning the definition of "income". I note that "remuneration" is not included
It's for one of my top clients. They produce roughly a book per year. The downside is that they are full of technical and legal jargon, and I always have very short deadlines, because they always wait until the last minute to give the files to me. But a paycheck is a paycheck. Que sera!
Last time I was at the Sonoma County Courthouse was in January of 2008. I was there for jury duty and I watched the newly elected president Obama on the TV in the Jury room promising the most open and transparent administration in history. He promised to have every bill being considered by Congress available on the Internet for 60 days for the citizens to peruse before it would be voted upon. He promised to bring our troops home and close Guantanamo Prison.
I wasn’t called up for jury duty and I drove home on a rainy January day my civic duty fulfilled.
Yesterday my wife and I revisited the jury room at the courthouse; room 102J. My wife had been drafted into jury duty by the county.
We awoke before dawn to answer Caesar’s call for an accounting. It was pouring down rain. It was a Pineapple Express deluge from the Mid Pacific Ocean directed at us like a firehose by the El Nino.
We drove carefully in the old Jeep Grand Wagoneer down the very bumpy and rutted Highway 101 ( a third world ill-maintained travel fare ), in the pouring rain as cars whizzed by with lights off. They must be mad!
Sure enough half way to Santa Rosa flashing lights appeared ahead of us as accidents were on both sides of the freeway and we pulled onto the Shiloh Road exit and took Old Redwood Highway to the city.
The Sonoma County Administration Complex is fortunately on the near side of the city; the northern side. It covers a several acres. There’s the county jail, a fairly modern four story structure of orange brick with tiny windows.
There’s the tax assessor’s office and several other low 1960’s designed buildings for some kind of bureaucratic function or other, but where we were going was the “Hall of Justice”.
Oh, yes, they do call it the “Hall of Justice”. That is where the nerve center of the county lives. This is where “justice” and fines and sentences are handed out by judges and juries to the serfs of Sonoma County.
I dropped my wife off at the entrance to the Hall of Justice in the pouring rain so she could make it to the jury room on time. I then drove off seeking a parking place within a mile of the building.
The Hall of Justice was built in 1965 and completed and dedicated on January 15th 1966. The “Sons of the Golden West” put up the plaque. It is a truly ugly building two stories high made of poured concrete and some strange green fiberglass screens covering the sides of the building. The central garden is nice.
My wife walked up to the open entrance and found a group of Hispanics lined up in a line blocking the way. They were mostly Mexicans smoking cigarettes. They were lined up waiting to go through security to the second floor courtrooms wherein no doubt their relatives were being tried in court.
My wife asked the security guard where the jurors were supposed to go and he came out of his station, very kindly he was, and showed my wife the way to go across the open garden area to the 102J jury room on the north side of the building.
Meanwhile I found a place to park the Jeep and walked with my umbrella for ten minutes or so to room 102J and found my wife.
She had already made friends with a very kind woman named Becky from Petaluma. She was in her fifties I’d guess. My wife is named “Debra”.
Debra, “This is my new found friend Becky. She’s been called for jury duty every year for ten years or more.”
Myself, “ I’d change my name.”
Now this elicited a laugh from a few jurors sitting in the area. My timing was impeccable if I say so myself. Good to start with a laugh.
We all got along famously after that.
A black woman in her late thirties wearing a pantsuit of white and black checkered pattern which no doubt fit her better ten pounds ago; got up in front of everyone and gave a little speech and put in a DVD that pointed out how great it was to do jury duty.
There were about 180 people in the room. Prospective jurors dragged into the room by the county in a pouring rainstorm. Most of them were women. They were all white. Now, I’ll repeat that; they were all white.
I looked. They were all white even though Sonoma County is 50% Hispanic, maybe more. There are a few blacks and asians around, but it’s pretty much 50-50 white and hispanic, yet all the jurors were white.
Why? Well, there is this little box you can check when you get a jury summons from the county that lets you out of jury duty if you don’t speak English. I reckon the hispanics check the box. But they end up in court anyway.
The citizens had been called to the Hall of Justice because of a triple murder case in Forestville. It was a drug deal gone bad. The shooter wanted it all. His two ne-er do well accomplices finked on him for lesser sentences. The shooter shot the three drug dealers in the head and took the money, guns, and 100 pounds of marijuana.
He’s up for life without parole so what’s he got to lose? He wants a trial. So for the whole week every day 180 people will be called down to the courthouse to find 12 jurors who don’t know the case and aren’t prejudiced.
I was sitting outside of the jury room on one of those folding wooden chairs like they had in high school back in the sixties. Damned uncomfortable they are. The jury room is a fire trap with only two narrow exits for 200 people.
And suddenly I see the black woman in the tight black and white pant suit come out and talk to a lawyer. He’s white and about 6’ 4” tall. He’s bald and wearing a fancy expensive suit. She tells him that he’s in the right place. Turns out he is part of the District Attorney’s office and the prosecutor in the case.
The prosecutor walks off talking on his smart phone.
Next I see a stenographer show up with his steno machine on a stand and the defense lawyer who is shorter and not nearly as well dressed as the prosecutor. The black women in the tight pant suit tells them to wait because, “He will be coming down any moment.”
Now, she says this in the same breathless manner that a believer would say about the Pope coming to call. This got my attention.
Sure enough in a few minutes the judge shows up with two Sonoma County Deputy Sheriffs by his side for protection. He’s a tall guy about 40 with dark hair and an intelligent smiling face. I think he was bemused by the fact that he was coming to the jury room. He’s used to pontificating from on high on the second floor in his courtroom.
Now, I’m just kinda slouched and sleeping in my uncomfortable folding chair. They ignore me of course. And I pretend to ignore them.
They march into the jury room and shut the door.
After the judge describes the case to the prospective jurors stating all of the charges against the shooter, quite a list; he leaves with his entourage and a 20 page questionnaire is handed out to the folks in the room that takes 20 minutes to fill out.
They want to winnow the jury pool eliminating those who already think the shooter is guilty.
After handing in the quiz they were free to go only to have to come back next Monday to see if Debra and the rest of the jury pool, is released from jury duty.
I’d guess 90% of the cases at the courthouse have to do with drugs. The drug war is a cash cow for the state. The county of Sonoma is the single largest employer in the county with over 4,000 well paid employees.
And the “Hall of Justice” produces the cash to pay them.
But every once in awhile they get a murder case and have to find a way to make it seem like justice is being served in their little fiefdom.
They want a new courthouse of course. They want to add $50 or more to every traffic ticket and fine to pay for it.
I admit I was a bit nervous slouching there in my chair watching two trigger happy sheriff’s deputies with guns and tasers on their hips only a few feet away from me. They kill with impunity. The county just gave out $1.5 million to a citizen who was tasered relentlessly (fortunately he didn’t die).
And the killing of Andy Lopez, a 13 year old, gunned down by a sheriff’s deputy on a sunny afternoon because the kid was carrying a toy gun; well, that will cost us taxpayers at least $7 million. And the sheriff’s deputy who emptied his gun into Andy is still a deputy in good standing.
Oh, yeah, the Hall of Justice is a wonderful place for the county. Not so much for us.
My wife and I drove home. The rain had ended. The sun was out. The road was clear.
The last time I was ever in a courtroom, the judge threw me in jail for 3 days, because I demanded to be "informed of the nature of the cause" against me (traffic violation) before I could enter a plea, and clearly stated in the Texas Rules of Court. To be "informed" means the DA has to issue an indictment showing the precise letter of the law that was violated. They don't like doing that for traffic cases. I got the judge's bond revoked and she lost her job as a public "servant".
I've never been called for jury duty, because I've almost never been registered to vote. I'd never get picked, though, because I know juries can ask questions during the trial and can nullify laws they don't like.
Rufus: Thanks for the compliment. Good for you for getting the judge's bond revoked. I was never put on a jury and quit the voter rolls years ago. My parents were never put on juries either. Lawyers do not want educated people who ask questions on juries.
Once I brought up jury nullification with the head of the jury department at the courthouse, I was never called for jury duty again.
I have always believed the 16th and 17th amendments should be repealed. That no taxes should be collected by employers. That April 1st (fools day)should be election day. That each person who pays taxes should pay them in one lump sum. Thereby they would then understand the true nature of the theft. As we know ANY amount paid to ANY government for ANYTHING government does is by nature a tax at the point of a gun with a threat of violence for non compliance. Larken Rose has a youtube channel worth visiting.
I find it Encouraging to read people that understand Economics, and the fact that Everything Humans do is an economic transaction of some type.
The truth of the collapse is all around us as our government of greedy self-centered individuals deny, lie, and attempt to conceal their culpability.
That Empires end in Tyranny and are often replaced by even worse tyranny is well known, yet we continue to believe (irrationally) that ours will be different. NO. China nor Russia are going to take over America. The new rulers will likely be some corporatist (fascist) . As our so called 'elections' are just popularity contests, there is little thought to how some clown will promise to drain the swamp if we just give them the POWER to become a tyrant. Interesting Times. The Sheep always beg to be saved by the wolf in sheep clothing. To lazy to be in charge of their own lives. My hope is for a more peaceful split at state or county level. No reason to have large territories of Unaccountable Political hacks. Keep it small, controllable like Switzerland.
There are enough truth bombs here to fill a truck. The fascist/corporatist take-over is clearly underway, and has been since the beginning of the 20th century. Once corporations gained "person" status, it was all over (see my book). I'm increasingly of the opinion that Trump is a set up for the final show down. This coming election is the Shootout at the OK Corral, with Socialists on one side, and Fascists on the other, and neither side gives a rat's behind about us humans.
Economics is everything. Even the word comes from the Greek, meaning "household management". To control economics is to control the most basic human interactions, which is why installing a global economic system is the ultimate prize. Us little folks have no say in the outcome. The battle is taking place far above our heads.
Rufus: I tried to argue in court that my penis had person status and that my penis should pay child support, not me.
The judge didn't buy it.
I've been thrown in jail for up to a week for much less than that. You got off easy.
The judge had a rare sense of humor.
Just sayn: It's not "our" government. It is their government.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vj5ImRiTtRw&list=RDvj5ImRiTtRw&index=1
Above is the link to the Hobbit ending credits. Fantastic charcoal artwork.
As I fade away, I look at art and listen to music. Humans are magical creatures. They create goodness and evil at the same time. Amazing.
Does any other animal or plant do that on Earth?
Even my in-laws are good here and there.
The world is a mystery to me. But like the charcoal drawings in the video above, it isn't all black and white.
Chalk and charcoal are among my favorite media. You can get amazingly soft and supple forms from them, with a very ephemeral quality about it.
I have always found that humans, when left alone to live life as they see fit, are wonderful creatures. However, it takes tremendous integrity and fortitude to resist amassing and wielding power, and that is the great weakness of our species. We are constantly tempted to assert our way over others, since we imagine we know better than anyone else.
I had a lovely mother-in-law, a tiny Javanese woman who really didn't like me from the git-go, because I was a foreigner. Over time, though, as I learned to speak Javanese and couldn't get enough of her cooking no matter how spicy she made it, we eventually made peace and even formed an alliance of mutual respect. Perhaps a metaphor for life in general.
Rufus: You earn extra points for making an alliance of mutual respect with your mother-in-law. Do you know the Navajo custom?
In Navajo culture the man always goes to live with his bride's family in their pueblo. The mother-in-law wears a bell around her neck to warn the son-in-law of her approach. The mother-in-law and the son-in-law are forbidden to talk to each other or even look at each other.
If they do talk or look at each other the both have to go into separate sweat lodges for three days to remove the evil spirits.
The Navajo mother-in-law bells are popular tourist items.
Interesting you should mention the Navajo. I dated a Navajo waaaay back in my New Mexico period. I had forgotten all about the ritual until this moment. Her father was a healer/doctor, and I learned some herbal medicine from him, and later from a curandera in a seperate adventure. Unfortunately, I ended up marrying an Apache, and thereby hangs a tale.
With my Javanese MIL, I had to overcome her girlhood memories of waves of soldiers accosting her family during WW2. First it was the Dutch, then the Japanese, then the Americans. It seems, though, I atoned for their sins and distanced myself from that experience. She always called me "bule" (white boy), but it went from a tone of derision to one of affection, and for my part, I made sure to bring chocolate bars whenever we went home to the "kampung". Anyway, I paved the way for my son-in-law, who's a Limey, from Manchester no less, and he had a much easier time of it.
Rufus: You married an Apache? Do you still have all of your equipment? Did you like New Mexico? I've never explored the place.
My friend who lived in Jakarta for years told me that the locals called him a "round eye".
Chocolate bars are always a good idea. In Belem, they all wanted me to bring peanut butter back from the states.
I've never been called a "round eye". The most common moniker is "bule" (boo-lay), which might come from the Portuguese word "albino," but no one really knows. Another common one is "bugil," or "bule gila" (crazy white boy).
Still in one piece physically, but she shredded my mental self. I had Lakota, Comanche and Winnebago friends each tell me the same thing completely independent of each other. Apparently, it is a universal truth that Apache women are constantly rearranging the furniture.
A rather large piece of me has never left New Mexico. It truly is the Land of Enchantment. The best book I've ever read that absolutely captures New Mexico is "The Milagro Beanfield War". Spot on. Here's one of the places I lived:
https://christdesert.org/
And one of the places I worked:
https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g60958-d606187-Reviews-Greer_Garson_Theater_Center-Santa_Fe_New_Mexico.html
Even earned my newspaper chops at the Albuquerque Journal Tribune.
"The Milagro Beanfield War" is one of my favorite books and movies. Oddly enough, the small town that Robert Redford used to film the movie ended up being gentrified like the
fictional Milagro because of the movie.
Interesting that Greer Garson had a connection to a college in New Mexico.
The Albuquerque JT was no doubt an interesting newspaper to work for.
I did spend a few days in Albuquerque in Nov. 1975. My first wife's brother was an assistant District Attorney in the city. He loved New Mexico. All I remember of the city is orange dry desert and blue sky.
So you were a monk in the desert? That seems boring. What to do? Farming? A brewery? Peyote? No doubt it was quiet.
Is there a monument to Barry Soetoero in Jakarta?
There was in a section of town called Menteng, for about 3 months (Dec 2009 - Feb 2010). It was shoved in a shed somewhere for a time, then redisplayed at his childhood home - which someone tried to make a museum that went bust - and then it disappeared again. I haven't heard anything about it since then.
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/barackobama/7242791/Barack-Obama-statue-removed-from-Jakarta-park-after-protests.html
He apparently had a very privileged childhood here, staying quite a bit at the Indo version of Camp David up in the mountains with Soeharto and family. All his time here is carefully stage managed and it's hard to get any verifiable information, though I did meet one of his classmates (so claimed) a while back.
Thanks, Rufus. Fascinating info how Barry's status(statue) goes in and out of favor and view.
Why people in power build statue to themselves is beyond me. The real people in power never make that mistake.
When he was first selected, Indonesians went wild. They thought for sure they'd get some respect from the West, now that one of their own was the US dictator. However, in 8 years, Obama only came here once and otherwise stayed far away from even the topic, since it reminded everyone he wasn't Constitutionally able to hold office. The one time he did come, he spoke maybe a handful of words in Indonesian, and the media went berserk, but it wasn't enough for folks to not feel slighted and eventually resentful.
Anyway, the Obama museum went bust pretty quickly, folks got upset about a statue to someone who wasn't an actual Indonesian hero, and these days no one even remembers him. All for the greater good, I say.
Rufus: My friend who lived in Jakarta for years managing the big resort there, told me that Barry and his parents lived in the area where all the government spooks and military lived.
I went down the "Who is Barry?" rabbit hole years ago. He's an enigma with no past. Many say his mom worked for the CIA as did her parents. Barry's maternal grandmother ran the bank in Honolulu that dispensed CIA funds across the Pacific for CIA operations.
Barry's birth certificate from Hawaii is fake. His African dad was a drunk who died in a car accident. Men who were in the political science class at Harvard that Barry was supposedly enrolled in never saw him.
Barry is a ghost.
I enjoyed watching today's RPLR (Ron Paul Liberty Report). The segment about the squatters in the NYC house was fascinating, but I'm not surprised that the homeowner was arrested for changing the locks on her property. NYC doesn't respect property rights.
Here in Sonoma County, CA there is a history of squatters. When the USA declared war on Mexico in 1848, the Mexican landowners, ranchers, and businessmen fled to Mexico. It's a similar situation to the Palestinians fleeing their homes in Israel during the 1967 War.
After the War with Mexico, many Federal troops and other European settlers squatted on Mexican land around Healdsburg and in the valleys of the old Mexican estates.
Our friend Gala Norton's great-grandfather Louis Norton was sheriff of Sonoma County after the War with Mexico. His job was to remove squatters from Mexican-owned land.
Louis Norton was a huge bear of a man with a disciplined attitude—kind of a John Wayne type. Louis would approach the squatters and tell them to git! Sometimes, there were altercations, but most of the squatters were forced to buy the land from the Mexican owners, who were all too happy to sell. The owners went to live in Mexico or Spain.
Louis Norton was also famous for facing down a grizzly bear that had climbed the huge redwood tree in the front yard of their house in Healdsburg (the tree is still there.) Norton came out of the house, stared at the big bear, and told it to git! The bear climbed down out of the tree and headed for the hills.
When Louis Norton died, the coroner found 12 bullets in his body from old gunfights. He probably died of lead poisoning. Louis Norton is buried in Oak Mound Cemetery here in town.
timmy taes
New York is notorious for not enforcing property rights. There have been legendary fights between landlords and sticky renters, and the whole rent control nightmare just exacerbates the whole issue. In some cases, there have been many layers of sub-lets to unravel in trying to evict tenants. That is the last place I'd ever want to own property in any situation.
As for Paul Bunyan, er...Louis Norton, it sounds as if he had more than his fair share of Neaderthal blood in him.
You are correct. We do really need to start thinking and describing it as such. Take away any vestige of legitimacy.
"Our Democracy" is a trade mark and tag line for a private corporate entity to which I owe zero loyalty or fealty. By the bye, April 15th is coming up. You might enjoy reading Sec. 86 of the Internal Revenue Code, concerning the definition of "income". I note that "remuneration" is not included
RFS: Your initials lend themselves to the name "Rufus". I will henceforth call thee "Rufus".
Considering "Rufus" was George Carlin's character in "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure," I can live with that. Makes a good nom de guerre, too.
RFS: I've edited four books, not counting my own. It's a thankless job. Hope you got paid up front.
It's for one of my top clients. They produce roughly a book per year. The downside is that they are full of technical and legal jargon, and I always have very short deadlines, because they always wait until the last minute to give the files to me. But a paycheck is a paycheck. Que sera!
Rufus: I was paid in books, if that.
Down at the Courthouse part 3, January 20th, 2016
Last time I was at the Sonoma County Courthouse was in January of 2008. I was there for jury duty and I watched the newly elected president Obama on the TV in the Jury room promising the most open and transparent administration in history. He promised to have every bill being considered by Congress available on the Internet for 60 days for the citizens to peruse before it would be voted upon. He promised to bring our troops home and close Guantanamo Prison.
I wasn’t called up for jury duty and I drove home on a rainy January day my civic duty fulfilled.
Yesterday my wife and I revisited the jury room at the courthouse; room 102J. My wife had been drafted into jury duty by the county.
We awoke before dawn to answer Caesar’s call for an accounting. It was pouring down rain. It was a Pineapple Express deluge from the Mid Pacific Ocean directed at us like a firehose by the El Nino.
We drove carefully in the old Jeep Grand Wagoneer down the very bumpy and rutted Highway 101 ( a third world ill-maintained travel fare ), in the pouring rain as cars whizzed by with lights off. They must be mad!
Sure enough half way to Santa Rosa flashing lights appeared ahead of us as accidents were on both sides of the freeway and we pulled onto the Shiloh Road exit and took Old Redwood Highway to the city.
The Sonoma County Administration Complex is fortunately on the near side of the city; the northern side. It covers a several acres. There’s the county jail, a fairly modern four story structure of orange brick with tiny windows.
There’s the tax assessor’s office and several other low 1960’s designed buildings for some kind of bureaucratic function or other, but where we were going was the “Hall of Justice”.
Oh, yes, they do call it the “Hall of Justice”. That is where the nerve center of the county lives. This is where “justice” and fines and sentences are handed out by judges and juries to the serfs of Sonoma County.
I dropped my wife off at the entrance to the Hall of Justice in the pouring rain so she could make it to the jury room on time. I then drove off seeking a parking place within a mile of the building.
The Hall of Justice was built in 1965 and completed and dedicated on January 15th 1966. The “Sons of the Golden West” put up the plaque. It is a truly ugly building two stories high made of poured concrete and some strange green fiberglass screens covering the sides of the building. The central garden is nice.
My wife walked up to the open entrance and found a group of Hispanics lined up in a line blocking the way. They were mostly Mexicans smoking cigarettes. They were lined up waiting to go through security to the second floor courtrooms wherein no doubt their relatives were being tried in court.
My wife asked the security guard where the jurors were supposed to go and he came out of his station, very kindly he was, and showed my wife the way to go across the open garden area to the 102J jury room on the north side of the building.
Meanwhile I found a place to park the Jeep and walked with my umbrella for ten minutes or so to room 102J and found my wife.
She had already made friends with a very kind woman named Becky from Petaluma. She was in her fifties I’d guess. My wife is named “Debra”.
Debra, “This is my new found friend Becky. She’s been called for jury duty every year for ten years or more.”
Myself, “ I’d change my name.”
Now this elicited a laugh from a few jurors sitting in the area. My timing was impeccable if I say so myself. Good to start with a laugh.
We all got along famously after that.
A black woman in her late thirties wearing a pantsuit of white and black checkered pattern which no doubt fit her better ten pounds ago; got up in front of everyone and gave a little speech and put in a DVD that pointed out how great it was to do jury duty.
There were about 180 people in the room. Prospective jurors dragged into the room by the county in a pouring rainstorm. Most of them were women. They were all white. Now, I’ll repeat that; they were all white.
I looked. They were all white even though Sonoma County is 50% Hispanic, maybe more. There are a few blacks and asians around, but it’s pretty much 50-50 white and hispanic, yet all the jurors were white.
Why? Well, there is this little box you can check when you get a jury summons from the county that lets you out of jury duty if you don’t speak English. I reckon the hispanics check the box. But they end up in court anyway.
The citizens had been called to the Hall of Justice because of a triple murder case in Forestville. It was a drug deal gone bad. The shooter wanted it all. His two ne-er do well accomplices finked on him for lesser sentences. The shooter shot the three drug dealers in the head and took the money, guns, and 100 pounds of marijuana.
He’s up for life without parole so what’s he got to lose? He wants a trial. So for the whole week every day 180 people will be called down to the courthouse to find 12 jurors who don’t know the case and aren’t prejudiced.
I was sitting outside of the jury room on one of those folding wooden chairs like they had in high school back in the sixties. Damned uncomfortable they are. The jury room is a fire trap with only two narrow exits for 200 people.
And suddenly I see the black woman in the tight black and white pant suit come out and talk to a lawyer. He’s white and about 6’ 4” tall. He’s bald and wearing a fancy expensive suit. She tells him that he’s in the right place. Turns out he is part of the District Attorney’s office and the prosecutor in the case.
The prosecutor walks off talking on his smart phone.
Next I see a stenographer show up with his steno machine on a stand and the defense lawyer who is shorter and not nearly as well dressed as the prosecutor. The black women in the tight pant suit tells them to wait because, “He will be coming down any moment.”
Now, she says this in the same breathless manner that a believer would say about the Pope coming to call. This got my attention.
Sure enough in a few minutes the judge shows up with two Sonoma County Deputy Sheriffs by his side for protection. He’s a tall guy about 40 with dark hair and an intelligent smiling face. I think he was bemused by the fact that he was coming to the jury room. He’s used to pontificating from on high on the second floor in his courtroom.
Now, I’m just kinda slouched and sleeping in my uncomfortable folding chair. They ignore me of course. And I pretend to ignore them.
They march into the jury room and shut the door.
After the judge describes the case to the prospective jurors stating all of the charges against the shooter, quite a list; he leaves with his entourage and a 20 page questionnaire is handed out to the folks in the room that takes 20 minutes to fill out.
They want to winnow the jury pool eliminating those who already think the shooter is guilty.
After handing in the quiz they were free to go only to have to come back next Monday to see if Debra and the rest of the jury pool, is released from jury duty.
I’d guess 90% of the cases at the courthouse have to do with drugs. The drug war is a cash cow for the state. The county of Sonoma is the single largest employer in the county with over 4,000 well paid employees.
And the “Hall of Justice” produces the cash to pay them.
But every once in awhile they get a murder case and have to find a way to make it seem like justice is being served in their little fiefdom.
They want a new courthouse of course. They want to add $50 or more to every traffic ticket and fine to pay for it.
I admit I was a bit nervous slouching there in my chair watching two trigger happy sheriff’s deputies with guns and tasers on their hips only a few feet away from me. They kill with impunity. The county just gave out $1.5 million to a citizen who was tasered relentlessly (fortunately he didn’t die).
And the killing of Andy Lopez, a 13 year old, gunned down by a sheriff’s deputy on a sunny afternoon because the kid was carrying a toy gun; well, that will cost us taxpayers at least $7 million. And the sheriff’s deputy who emptied his gun into Andy is still a deputy in good standing.
Oh, yeah, the Hall of Justice is a wonderful place for the county. Not so much for us.
My wife and I drove home. The rain had ended. The sun was out. The road was clear.
Tim McGraw
The last time I was ever in a courtroom, the judge threw me in jail for 3 days, because I demanded to be "informed of the nature of the cause" against me (traffic violation) before I could enter a plea, and clearly stated in the Texas Rules of Court. To be "informed" means the DA has to issue an indictment showing the precise letter of the law that was violated. They don't like doing that for traffic cases. I got the judge's bond revoked and she lost her job as a public "servant".
I've never been called for jury duty, because I've almost never been registered to vote. I'd never get picked, though, because I know juries can ask questions during the trial and can nullify laws they don't like.
Great writing, by the way. Very visual.
Rufus: Thanks for the compliment. Good for you for getting the judge's bond revoked. I was never put on a jury and quit the voter rolls years ago. My parents were never put on juries either. Lawyers do not want educated people who ask questions on juries.
Once I brought up jury nullification with the head of the jury department at the courthouse, I was never called for jury duty again.
I hope jail wasn't too bad for you.
I have always believed the 16th and 17th amendments should be repealed. That no taxes should be collected by employers. That April 1st (fools day)should be election day. That each person who pays taxes should pay them in one lump sum. Thereby they would then understand the true nature of the theft. As we know ANY amount paid to ANY government for ANYTHING government does is by nature a tax at the point of a gun with a threat of violence for non compliance. Larken Rose has a youtube channel worth visiting.