Editor,

Keep The Code, Inc., a non-profit Corporation of Mendocino County citizens, has hired legal representation in litigation, challenging the Mendocino County Board of Supervisors’ certification of the Environmental Impact Report for the Harris Quarry Expansion Project (“EIR”), which allows tripling of the rate of aggregate extraction at the quarry and industrial zoning of the site with an asphalt plant.

On behalf of Keep The Code, Environmental Law firm- Remy, Moose, Manley, LLP will challenge the County approved project on multiple legal issues- governed by the California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA). Since the Harris Quarry Expansion Project includes a new ‘Mineral Processing Combining District Overlay’ (MPCD) industrial zoning. The complexity of the proposal increases accordingly; since the entire County is potentially affected. Keep The Code contends a “Programmatic Environmental Analysis” of this new zoning code is required to provide for, or anticipate these potentially unforeseen, adverse consequences across the county. This current EIR provides no such programmatic countywide analyses.

Keep The Code contends the proposed MPCD zoning ordinance is inconsistent with the General Plan. The MPCD ordinance would specifically allow heavy industrial/manufacturing uses on land designated in the General Plan as “RL-Range Lands” Currently such industrial uses are prohibited on parcels with a Range Land general plan and zoning designation.

Maximum 50 trucks loaded with aggregate rock per hour will create traffic safety hazards and congestion unlike anything we have seen.

Issues of conflict abound with existing residential development and the nearby church, and senior residences with significant adverse environmental impacts such as air pollution, traffic safety, wildfire risk and visual degradation of cultural resources — will all be contested.

This filing represents the culmination of a long, arduous, circuitous journey from that day- November 4, 2004 when, according to official minutes, then Planning Commissioners John McCowen and Greg Nelson voted unanimously, with other Commissioners to “ Deny DR 1- 2004- placement of a permanent asphalt-concrete plant, applied for by Northern Aggregate precursor (Hot Rocks Asphalt & Aggregates), finding that:” land use conflicts with existing residential development in the area are irreconcilable,” and further finding, “ the proposed project is inconsistent or potentially inconsistent with applicable goals and policies of the General Plan, with regard to noise, industry and air quality, and significant environmental impacts would result from the proposed project which can not be adequately mitigated through the conditions of approval” Another Commissioner, Mr Little, recused himself due to “conflict of interest.” Today Greg Nelson and John McCowen Chair the Planning Commission and the Board of Supervisors, respectively.

The County Planning Department Staff Report of Feb 27, 2012 provides an accurate historic account of the process… The establishment of a permanent asphalt plant in a General Industrial(1-2) zoning district, was applied for by the operator, but denied by the Planning Commission on Nov 4, 2004, due to irreconcilable land use conflicts with existing residential development in the area. The applicant appealed the decision to the Board of Supervisors , but during the hearing withdrew the appeal after a discussion with the Board about locating the plant at the Harris Quarry. The Board directed Planning and Building Services to prepare an ordinance amendment that would allow the development of asphalt plants, in association with surface mining operations so that the applicant could apply for a permit at the Harris Quarry site.

According to former Third District Supervisor Hal Wagenet, in recent public hearing comments to the 2012- class of Board Supervisors: “The current Harris Quarry location was suggested (at that time), to the applicant as a viable alternative in January of 2005, and agreed to by the Supervisors, including myself.” Currently serving Supervisor Kendall Smith was also on that Board in 2005. In a Willits News article dated Feb 4th, 2009, then retired Supervisor Wagenet stated: “ He had agreed to help shepherd the Quarry expansion application through the County permit process”

Jack Magne’, of Keep The Code, stated today, “ It probably serves no purpose to comment on the appropriateness of former Supervisors acting as guidance-counselors on behalf of Applicants, and perhaps active Board Supervisors should not be in the business of assisting Applicants locate a place to build an asphalt plant.” Magne’ continued, “ Even the casual observer might see (built in bias)- That said, the real irony here is the fact that the previously stated reasons given for denial of the plant in 2004, are the very same objections voiced by the opponents of the current Harris Quarry proposal in 2012. The result, however, is quite the opposite” The Board Supervisors voted unanimously on April 10, 2012, in favor of certification, just as their appointees, the Commissioners had recommended- 7 to 0.

Magne’ said: “Keep The Code, Inc members continue to be inspired and determined to do whatever is necessary to defeat this concerted push to change the zoning ordinance to ‘industrial’, to allow construction of a 300 ton per hour industrial asphalt complex, on unsteady soil, at the top of a ridge, proximate to a major seismic fault, adjacent to historical Ridgewood Ranch, which is home to senior citizens, LaVida Charter School and Christ Church of The Golden Rule, and resting place of world-famous racehorse Seabiscuit.” “A project which the current FEIR states will produce a total of ‘ 4 to 9 ‘additional jobs.” “A loss of tourism, declining property values, horrendous traffic, and jeopardizing the health of our citizens, makes no sense at all.” The complaint states that more appropriate alternatives were not considered.

Keep The Code is entering another chapter in its long battle to defend the air we breathe and the land we cherish.

Support is pouring in. Spirits are lifted. The process and the outcome will rest not on politics- but on the law.

Jack Magné, Keep The Code

www.keepthecode.info

Willits,

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UKITOPIA

To the editor,

How I love living in the utopian Ukiah dining alfresco under the majestic oak tree providing a wonderful canopy for my cottage. Watching the worms descend on silken threads from the limbs high above, leaving hundreds of fine lines of silk swaying in the wind resembling “la Circe de Solie.” I am as fit as Mitt “The Holy Trinity” Romney willing and ready to run the 100 yard dash if only to impress the ladies!

Clearing up my dry mouth with a cool crisp white wine I fill my ballot voting for John McCowen, a man who is dedicated to the protection and further preservation of the county and the people he loves to serve, not to mention his slick campaign signs. Were they bought at the “Sharper Image”?

The best is yet to come. On July 15, “free concerts in the park,” Mckenna Faith will be performing. This young lady is the up and coming superstar! I will be there sober and not smoking, wearing my American flag T-shirt and Nashville cap. Grand Ol’ Opry. That’s if I am not running the 100 yard dash impressing the ladies on the other side of the park. I bought a laser tape measure and stopwatch!

Life is good here in Mendocino County and I am blessed with a little inspiration that is bringing not only joy and good health with a love for life and prosperity.

The new courthouse would be well placed by the railroad.

Trent Foster

Ukiah

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Memo Of The Week

Know Your Enemies

CERTIFICATE

(Elections Code §7228, 7423 and 7772)

TO THE HONORABLE BOARD OF SUPERVISORS

COUNTY OF MENDOCINO

I, SUSAN M. RANOCHAK, ASSESSOR-COUNTY CLERK-RECORDER, do hereby certify that at 5:00 p.m. on March 9, 2012 the number of nominees did not exceed the number of offices to be filled in the following County Central Committees and that no petition requesting a special election was filed with the County Clerk. NOW, THEREORE, I hereby request that the Board of Supervisors declare the following candidates elected to such office, as a qualified person or persons who filed Declaration of Candidacy papers, to serve as Member, namely:

REPUBLICAN CENTRAL COMMITTEE: Carol E. Crosby, 2nd District — 171 Carolyn St., Ukiah 95482; Michael G. Carter, 3rd District — PO Box 1952, Willits 95490; Stanley E. Anderson, 4th District — 18751 Dwyer Ln, Fort Bragg 95437; B.B. Grace, 4th District — 201 Cypress St. #203, Fort Bragg 95437.

DEMOCRATIC CENTRAL COMMITTEE: Irma Turner, 1st District — 8001 East Rd., Redwood Valley 95470; Joe Louis Wildman, 1st District — PO Box 1395, Ukiah 95482; Paul C. Holden, 2nd District — 5087 Jones St., Ukiah 95482; Virginia Pohlson, 3rd District — PO Box 1522, Fort Bragg 94327; Rachel Binah, 5th District — PO Box 353, Little River 95466; Val Muchowski, 5th District — PO Box 367, Philo 95466; Jefferson Evan Tyrrell, 5th District — 21000 Orr Springs Rd., Ukiah 95482; Steve Antler, 5th District — PO Box 1046, Mendocino, 95460

Witness my hand and official seal this 23rd day of April 2012.

Signed: Susan M. Ranochak, in and for the County of Mendocino, State of California.

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THE QUARRY IS GREEN!

Editor,

Why is no one talking about the environmental advantages of the Harris Ranch Quarry? Producing 200,000 yards of material there would cut out 1,500,000 to 1,700,000 big rig miles now spent to import that material to central Mendocino County. Over 30 years that is 45,000,000 to 51,000,000 big rig miles. How many thousands of tons of greenhouse gases and other pollutants does that save?

We have some of the strictest environmental controls in the world which will be imposed on the quarry. The environmentally “green” way is to produce local materials for local use, create local jobs, keep sales tax local, all under local control.

Harris Ranch Quarry is the green choice for Mendocino County.

John Jeffers

Ukiah

ms notes: Actually, all of these points, and several more of similar nature, were made during the Supervisors meeting when the EIR was certified.

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A FISH STORY

Editor:

A dozen or so years ago a ranch that lies on the Garcia River between the two rancherias owned by Vernon Kendall had the river breach its banks during high water and start to erode Mr. Kendall’s field.

Mr. Kendall hired a bulldozer to reopen the channel — maybe 100 yards of river.

About halfway through the project, Ed Ramos of the Department of Fish and Game came down to put a halt to the project.

Soon after rains came again and proceeded to wash hundreds if not thousands of yards of soil and gravel into the river.

This filled the entire lower river making it very shallow, also making it easy for prey to eat the young trout and warming water in summer which is also lethal to steelhead and salmon.

Attempts were made to plant willows on the Kendall Ranch probably after scientific studies and grant money which resulted in more pollution into the river in the form of giant balls of tangled plastic pie, far more than any pot grower has ever done.

The river has still not recovered.

So I wonder how many fish have died over this period of time. But you didn’t hear a word about it. It wasn’t plastered all over the papers from here to Los Angeles.

So does the Department of Fish and Game really care about fish or publicity? You would think if they really cared about fish there would be no way and they would allow a vineyard in the river that is also making a comeback — the Gualala River. And for the record, the Stornettas always impeccably maintained their portion of the Garcia River at no charge to anyone but themselves.

John Smith

Manchester

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CRAIG BELL REPLIES

Editor,

I would like to respond to a number of erroneous statements made in Mr. Smith’s letter.

Vern Kendall (deceased) owned a ranch on the Garcia River that developed some bank erosion problems that were caused by his sheep eating the riparian vegetation, leaving the banks unprotected.

As a consultant to the Mendocino County Resource Conservation District, I worked with Vern to prepare and submit a Department of Fish and Game restoration grant to restore the failed bank site.

The grant was approved and Fish and Game, Regional Water Quality Control Board, and the National Marine Fisheries Service issued necessary permits. All that remained was a needed Army Corps of Engineers 404 permit.

Vern and I participated in numerous site visits with Army Corps staff and still no permit was issued.

Despite repeated attempts and pressure, two winters went by and the erosion site grew from several hundred feet to over a thousand.

Vern used to say to me he was going to fix it before he died.

The second year in February Vern brought in heavy equipment and attempted to repair the site with no permits or adequate design. He redirected the river over as far from his land as possible and built gravel berms to keep it there.

While Vern was well-meaning and frustrated with the Army Corps of Engineers, the effort was doomed to end in complete failure with the first good storm leaving the site in even worse condition.

Not long after he died relatives of Vern’s who inherited the ranch had to carry out a cleanup and abatement of the site.

This effort was not comprehensive enough to truly restore the damage. Those owners sold the ranch to Mike Boer.

I worked with Mike to prepare and submit a Department of Fish and Game grant application to carry out the extensive bank stabilization and revegetation.

I worked as project manager for the firm of Bioengineering Associates.

The project has been extremely successful in not only stopping further bank erosion but also creating deep pools and a healthy riparian vegetation zone that benefits many species.

Mr. John Smith in his letter infers that giant balls of plastic pipe polluted the river.

As part of the project we installed a very extensive irrigation system.

We had hoped to get a second year of irrigation of the plantings.

The Garcia River came up over 15 feet at winter and did dislodge some of the pipe.

I worked with crews to remove and dispose of the pipe the following summer and can assure that there was no harm done to the Garcia River in the form of pollution as the pipe only conveyed water to the plantings.

Mr. Smith, if you call me I would be happy to take you on a tour of the restoration site with before-project photos.

I also worked with Bioengineering Associates to carry out successful bank stabilization projects funded by the Department of Fish and Game on property owned by the Stornetta Brothers Farm, Henry Stornetta (deceased), Oz Farm and the Galiano family.

Each of those projects also created deep pool habitat and stopped the loss of farmland.

Walt and Lance Stornetta and I have also carried out a number of successful riparian projects at their own expense.

The Department of Fish and Game has real and well-placed concern about salmon and steelhead being killed on the Garcia River.

I have been conducting steelhead spawner surveys of the lower river from the Eureka Hill Road bridge to the Highway 1 bridge for seven years.

Due to the extensive upslope erosion control work in commercial and private timberland properties (mostly from Department of Fish and Game funding), the spawning gravels and habitats in the lower river are showing strong recovery and steelhead have begun to spawn in large numbers.

Seven years ago I counted 103 steelhead redds! The following year’s totals were: 87, 62, 47, 25, 5, and this year only 3.

This lower river spawning population in particular and overall numbers have been severely impacted by illegal harvest of state and federal Endangered Species Act-listed fish.

Fish are being gill-netted, speared, snagged and even poisoned.

There are reports of Garcia River steelhead being sold in Santa Rosa and even downtown Point Arena out of cars.

There have been millions of dollars spent and countless volunteer hours by concerned locals and Garcia River watershed land owners. This is all being severely undermined.

Craig Bell

Point Arena

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PAY OR DIE

Dear Editor:

As your readers may know the U.S. is the only industrial country that does not have an universal health program. It is worth noting the US spends about 15% of GDP on healthcare and yet there are 50 million plus Americans without health insurance while the countries with plans spent about 7-9% of GDP on health costs. Further, the way the health insurance business (which is mainly for profit corporations) operate a goodly percentage of their customers are under-insured. Meanwhile in the rest of the world countries are moving toward healthcare for all their citizens. These include such countries as Rwanda, Ghana, Chile, Mexico and in Thailand only 1% of the population do not have health insurance. Incidentally, one of the important measures of a country’s health is its infant mortality rate which in the US ranks about 35th in the world. Even Cuba has a lower infant mortality than the US.

Pax Americana spends more on the military industrial complex than the rest of the world combined yet it is unwilling to develop a system of healthcare that will provide for all of its citizens.

As we have seen with Obamacare the GOP which seems to be dominated by Tea Party nihilists who are intent on destroying what little healthcare safety net currently exists. This is clear when you look at Representative Ryan’s budget as well as how they will fund the cut in interest rates for student loans. If these nihilists ever get full control of the government it will be the beginning of the end of the American Empire.

In peace,

James G. Updegraff

Sacramento

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THE ONE TRUE REPUB

Dear Editor,

As a Republican there is one easy vote in the June 5th election for Congress.

Mike Halliwell is the only true conservative running for Congress in the new 2nd Congressional District.

If you believe in smaller government, less taxes and fewer regulations. If you believe in freedom and what our Constitution is suppose to stand for. If you believe it is a free market that allows businesses to grow, thrive and create jobs, then you should cast your vote for this true Republican who shares those beliefs.

Mike Halliwell is no RINO. He is a real Republican and he’s running for Congress and he deservers your vote.

In the race for Congress you’ll see a second Republican on the ballot, one who seems to agree with the Democrats on almost every issue. Mike Halliwell is the only Congressional candidate who has stayed true to our Republican ideals.

Join me and cast a vote of conscience on June 5th by voting for Mike Halliwell.

Mark Grimes

Eureka

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WRONG ROCK

Editor,

I agree that we should do everything possible to save our landmarks. However, “the unique, beautifully imposing triangular boulder that looms large across from the Black Board Road intersection” is not “The Black Bart Rock” of historical significance. The original Black Bart Rock was located south of the summit on the old stagecoach road that later became old 101, parts of which can still be seen occasionally on the west side of the new highway.

Unfortunately, that rock, which we have pictures of at the Mendocino County Historical Society Library, has State signage saying that it is Black Bart Rock. Unfortunately, it reportedly slid down the hill and was lost. The rock that Mr. Magné referred to last week was called Black Bart Rock by a PR person who I believe was working or writing for the Redwood Empire Association.

So this week I will research the files that we have and hopefully have the correct story ready for publication with pictures in a future article for local papers. We should still hold on to the monolith that Caltrans cut when putting in the new road.

Paul Poulos, Director

Held-Poage Home & Research Library

Mendocino County Historical Society

Ukiah

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A DEAL’S A DEAL

To Pebbles Trippet,

You are terribly uninformed. Chris made the decision to take the plea, which reduced the charge to a second degree felony. The range of punishment for a second degree is 2-20 years and Chris got only three years. He has already spent more than four months over the minimum parole eligibility and will be paroled very quickly. After the evidence presented to me by the DA that Chris was selling grams of hash for “40 a g,” all of the goodwill in the community that I had built disappeared (even though you and I know that he was going to sell a little medicine for gas money.)

I have been a long time advocate of legalization of cannabis. People like you are the old-time warriors who deserve the credit for taking the issue this far. But your time has come and gone. It will be people like me, in suits and ties, who take us the rest of the way. We can no longer call non-believers evil while alienating them from the truth. The all-out assault on Texas and Brown County was unproductive. The assault on me is ridiculous.

Peace.

Rudy Taylor

Brownsville, Texas

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RECOVERY? WHAT RECOVERY?

Esteemed Editeur,

Robots are becoming increasingly clever and capable, leading some futurists to forecast the eventual displacement of all human labor, perhaps as soon as a few decades from now. On the other hand, many conservative pundits would not concur with such a scenario at any time in the future, so, what is it that they see that assures them that new jobs will proliferate forever and ever? Their rosy perspective on job security certainly isn’t shared by all.

As robots evolve and improve much faster than human abilities, the future of human job prospects becomes increasingly tenuous. Now that a few years have passed since our economic melt-down, today’s employment picture would surely have bounced back to at least Bush era levels if job prospects had really been so promising, but mired in the doldrums we seem to remain. Many economists note that productivity has been zooming skyward using the same number of workers, all because of the rapidly escalating introduction of cheaper labor saving devices. They warn that, as a trend, high tech will increasingly displace humans as opposed to creating more jobs. Given the exponential acceleration of tech progress, it isn’t all that reckless to predict that, in another half-dozen years, smarter robots will make sufficient inroads into traditional jobs at the same time not so many new jobs get created, which will cause many more people to pay closer attention to this growing problem of humans struggling to survive, but with fewer opportunities to land a paycheck.

Think of what just plain old-fashioned ‘more of the same’ might mean for the future. If current employment trends don’t change for the better, wages are doomed to remain stagnant, the rich are fated to get even richer, power and wealth are fated to concentrate in ever fewer hands, the government is fated to become even less useful to ordinary people as big money monopolizes political influence, all the while we are bombarded with media messages to enjoy whatever new gadgets find their way into our lives, with reassurances that we live in the best of all possible worlds. Meanwhile, bridges and roads continue to crumble, and those who can’t afford flying cars might be doomed to weave from one pot hole to the next while praying that their vehicles don’t soon fall apart.

The same pundits who insist that 7,000 years of civilization somehow prove that class divisions will never end also claim that labor’s final liberation from toil will never arrive due to a never-ending proliferation of jobs. The pundits need to be asked: Is it also inevitable that the gap between the rich and poor must continue to widen? And that ever more people must sink into poverty? Please spare us from the future as prescribed by the upper classes, and instead let us insist that the machines liberate everyone from toil in a manner that ensures universal freedom from want.

The upper class politics of exclusion have long needed to be replaced with the working class politics of inclusion. A giant step in that direction would be to convert ‘workers competing among themselves for scarce jobs’ into ‘bosses competing among themselves for scarce labor’. And that agenda can be fulfilled by using time-tested methods such as a shorter work week, mandatory month-long paid vacations, earlier well-paid retirement, higher overtime premiums to discourage overwork, etc., anything to get labor from glutting the labor market. As labor great Samuel Gompers stated a century ago: “As long as there is one man who seeks employment and cannot find it, the hours of work are too long.” Political will for a working class agenda will someday be generated as surely as smarter robots increasingly replace human labor. It’s only a matter of time before more people catch on and create a movement to see to it that what little labor that remains for people to do gets equitably shared by everyone who could use a little work to get by.

Ken Ellis

New Bedford, Massachussetts

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FAT CACTI FACTS

Editor,

Mr. Ericsson is correct about the Saguaro not growing on the Pacific. However we were not on the Pacific when we took the enclosed picture. Highway 1, the only paved road down the length of Baja goes inland for many miles, thru an amazing desert, coming closer to the Sea of Cortez than the Pacific coast.

We did not confuse the saguaro with the boojum (cirio). As you can see in this picture that would be pretty hard to do. If we confused anything it would be the fat cacti on the left and in the background of this picture. I can’t swear they are saguaro. There is also an ocotillo in this picture. The rest of the tall funny growths are boojum trees. Quite interesting characters aren’t they?

Neva Dyer/Kent Rogers

Boonville

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SMALLER, NARROWER, SLOWER

Editor,

Sorry, but I got another rant coming on!

I hear that Caltrans is contemplating raising the speed limit in Philo!

I want to go on record that I am violently opposed to this stupid idea. I live in Philo and I am routinely chased across the street by cars that plow through Philo completely ignoring the posted speed limit. I have had cars honk and drivers yell obscenities at me because I slowed down to pull into my driveway. And yes I do use my turn signal to indicate what’s coming. I have more than once been by passed by cars that felt I was driving to slow in Philo.

Do I have to remind Caltrans how many tragic accidents we have had in Philo in the 11 years that I have lived here? More than once my former business sign was decimated and most recently a drunk, speeding driver flew through my gate and rolled his car in my front yard. Doesn’t anybody remember the horrible accident where several Roederer workers wrapped themselves around the tree in front of the Pinoli residence and all of them died?

And while I am at it… I can understand that the Philo-Greenwood bridge being 50-plus years old needs some work, but why oh why does it have to be made a two lane bridge?! It has worked just fine as a one lane bridge for the longest time.

Bigger, wider isn’t always better.

Monika Fuchs

Philo

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OBAMA THE UNNECESSARY

Greetings AVA,

I am called to address Steve Heilig.

Steve, I will take your calling me crazy in the Letters to the Editor section last week as an unintentional compliment. Growing up in Chicago playing ice hockey one would seek to be sufficiently nutty. It was a matter of self-preservation really. Have you heard the cliché, “We’re all crazy in Chicago!”? Probably have, but I am shocked that you are unaware of the very famous quote of Ursula K. Leguin, “What sane person could live in this world and not be crazy?” You were busy reading my rambling letter and missed this excellent quotation which appeared in the margins of the AVA quite recently, if my memory serves me correctly.

If you’re troubled by the letters of mine you’ve read thus far you should see the shit I write that the AVA doesn’t publish. Let me make this clear I have not read nor am I commenting on any of your articles. I routinely skip any article with your name on it and I don’t believe you belong in the same company with the excellent writers at the AVA. Just an opinion, don’t send hate mail Mr. liberal.

Somehow you remind me of every other middle-class, middle-aged white man who grooves to the reggae and live in San Francisco. Each one I know is a rabid sectarian Democrat who wears the coat of progressivism but gets extremely mad and worked up when their little worldviews get challenged. They tend to be overall crabby self-centered people despite the joyous and sharing nature of reggae music, go figure.

As far as you cheering for Obama, it’s entirely predictable, it’s class based. The editorial staff of this paper seem to know the absolute futility of President Obama, so I’m not quite sure why your lukewarm liberal opinions matter.

If you’re perplexed by my letters maybe you should skip my letters and read the small excerpts of literary quotations in the margins. I will slightly amend a quote that recently appeared in the AVA by William Wrigley Jr. and say, “When two men in politics (he said business) always agree, one of them is unnecessary.” That would be your president and candidate Obama, who has proven himself to be entirely disposable, unremarkable and completely unnecessary.

I will follow a Nick Nolte quote that just appeared in the AVA saying, “The only people who ever called me a rebel were people who wanted me to do what they wanted” and say, the only people who ever called me crazy were people who wanted me to think exactly like them.

To your accusation that I am writing on behalf of unspecified people I take serious offense. Not an empty accusation in a hyper surveillance war on terror society. You’ve creeped me out sufficiently with that one Steve. Shows me where your instincts are, typical yuppie business, pick a fight and call the police. After all of your crying these past weeks about “dangerous people” who you are telling us are going to get you.

I guess in your world you are a hero if you get in a sufficient tizzy about those red state meanies. Problem is your religious (Democratic) fervor prevents you from seeing how silly you are. You are a sectarian extremist Democrat Steve, and that is the only way you see the world. You therefore try to place all things within your red state/blue state worldview, a boring thing to witness. In that light I will quote my constituency, an illiterate Afghani goat herder who said, “Your King Obama is like a homeless drunken Santa Claus,” and that about sums it up. As the Jamaicans say Steve, “Tek weh yuself.” Translation from the Jamaican is, “sulk away after you have sufficiently embarrassed yourself.”

Nate “2Red” Collins

Berzerkeley

PS. Let me guess, Steve, you are a financial supporter of KQED/NPR and were deeply hurt by my diatribe. Well Steve if you understood democracy you would just register your vote , as we were taking tally, that you support National Public Radio. But your party is up to something much more sinister than democracy, Steve. I am absolutely perplexed by your breed though, Steve. It was the subject of my review of the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival in Boonville last year. The apparent disconnect between the extreme hyperbole of black supremacy spoken by reggae artists and the absolute disconnect of the listeners. If you are bothered by my mild hyperbole you clearly have not been listening to the lyrics in the music. All the more perplexing because you wrote for a reggae/world music magazine called “The Beat” for many years. A bland and underwhelming magazine if there ever was one. The whole aesthetic reminds me of everything wrong about this “progressive” nor-cal culture that this fine paper so clearly elucidates.

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HIPPIEBILLIES

Editor,

Regarding Bruce McEwen’s May 2 article about the “Bush Hippy.”

In Gold Rush Sierras these back-to-the-land lovely people with dreadlocks and tattoos and all were colloquially called Hippiebillies, though that is sort of what I thought I had signed onto all of 40 years ago.

Tim Moriarty

Watsonville

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KENT STATE TRUTHS

Editor:

Laurel Krause’s letter (May 9) “No More Kent States” about the murder of her sister Allison on May 4, 1970, by the Ohio National Guard prompts me to add a little footnote to what is one of the most despicable acts of government violence our country has ever seen.

In September of 1970 I was a student at the State University of NY at Buffalo (known as “UB”) living in a house with three other roommates. One roommate had moved out over the summer, and we needed a fourth to help pay the rent.

One roommate brought in an old friend from high school. He explained that his friend Barry had transferred to UB over the summer from Kent State University in Ohio, and needed a place to live. He seemed like a nice guy, kinda quiet, so we said of course, no problem, welcome to beautiful Buffalo!

Then we asked about the horrors of that past May 4 at Kent State, and asked if he had been around the tragedy.

He replied slowly and deliberately with just one word: “Yes.” We knew it was probably a sensitive subject, so we just left it at that and showed him his new room, and went over the kitchen chores list, etc.

A few days later we were talking about what it was like at UB, and we mentioned that although it was a very liberal university — it was nicknamed the “Berkeley of the East” — the local police had stormed the campus and tear-gassed hundreds during the peaceful demonstrations during the nationwide protests of May 4. So someone asked him again, forgetting the earlier interaction, what it was like at Kent State.

He said something like “Well, everyone was just peacefully protesting with some signs, and then all of a sudden someone thought they heard firecrackers, or something like that. Then people noticed that several people were now lying flat on the ground. Four of them were dead. One was my girlfriend, Allison Krause.”

We all sat stonefaced for a couple of minutes, not knowing what to say. After the usual “sorrys,” somebody perceptively said “Well, who’s turn is it to make dinner?”

We never spoke about Kent State again, until Barry told us that the famous author James Michener might be calling, as he wanted to interview Barry for a new book he had been writing. “Wow,” I replied. “James Michener! He wrote all those South Pacific books, and some day I’m gonna go live down there because of him!”

After the book “Kent State” came out several months later, I asked Barry what he thought of it.

“A bunch of crap. Pure bullshit! Everything I said to him, well, he twisted it all around where it wasn’t anything like I told him. He obviously had a certain agenda in what he wanted to say, and he didn’t care about the truth.”

Michener, not telling the truth? One of my writing heroes being debunked? This was hopefully an aberration, this book on Kent State.

I lost track of Barry and many of my UB friends when I moved to California a few years later, but in fact many UB graduates also moved to the Bay Area, as UB got more conservative over the next few years.

As kind of a footnote, I eventually moved to the South Pacific in 1995, and lived for 12 years on one of those little islands Michener had so romantically described as “little paradises.”

Turns out his South Pacific books were all a bunch of crap as well. These island “paradises” aren’t much different than Buffalo or Berkeley, except bananas and papayas are cheaper.

So, I for one won’t ever forget Kent State, and hopefully we can keep an eagle eye on governments that don’t give a crap about anything except the agenda of those in power. And on a much lesser note, one should read all of Michener’s books as if they are pure fiction, rather than “based on fact.”

Elliot Smith

SF Bay Area

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JOINT PRESS CONFERENCE

Editor,

Northern California Congressional candidate and medical marijuana patient Andy Caffrey made history Saturday by whipping out a joint and smoking it as part of his speech at the Occupy Mendocino street fair in Fort Bragg, CA on Saturday afternoon May 12. This is part of an effort by three of the twelve candidates for the House seat representing the 2nd District to stand up to President Obama and the actions by the federal government which have already shut down 200 of California’s medical marijuana dispensaries.

The 2nd Congressional district is unique. It includes the entire coast of California north of San Francisco, including the three counties (Humboldt, Mendocino and Trinity) referred to by the marijuana community as The Emerald Triangle. Caffrey is a southern Humboldt resident and lifelong community activist best known for his environmental activism as a co-founder of both US Green parties, the Citizens party in 1980 and the current Green party in 1985, as a veteran Earth First! organizer and action videographer who has helped save forests all over the world, as a BBC World Historic Figure for being the World’s First GMO Crop Thrasher, and as an activist who’s worked on the Climate Crisis for over 30 years. He coined the meme “Climate Crisis.”

Caffrey has built his campaign around a 7-item agenda called New Green America which places the Climate Crisis at the top of our nations list of priorities and he is calling for President Obama to declare a national climate emergency and announce a crash program similar to that of World War II to rebuild America’s infrastructures away from fossil fuel and nuclear energy sources as fast as humanly possible.

Last week in Ukiah, Caffrey also called on competitor Norman Solomon to leave the race so as not to prevent the election of the first Green to Congress in US history: Andy Caffrey. Solomon’s own polls reveal that after raising over a half million dollars to run his campaign, he has actually lost support during the last seven months, moving from 11% in October down to 10% in April.

“He has hit a plateau at around 40% of what he’ll need to make the top two in the new open primary,” said Caffrey. “I’ve got 8% in the most recent poll and with Solomon’s support would be in second place with 18%, five percent ahead of Susan Adams.”

“Solomon’s built his campaign around organizing only progressive Democrats. The problem is that all of his Democratic competitors are at least progressive Democrats, and my politics are Green,” said Caffrey. “Norman has been squirming for more than a year to find even one issue on which he stands out from the crowd, but I have over 100 of my issue positions up at my web site and from a progressive or Green point of view, Norman isn’t better than me on a single issue. So he’s fabricating his own reality, making bogus claims. Right now he’s spinning the illusion that he is the only one of us with any foreign policy experience. But all he’s done is jet set to Iraq and Afghanistan with celebrities a handful of times. Nothing was accomplished, but he’s flown to foreign countries, so that makes him an expert in his own eyes. I’ve been working with Green politicians all over the world since 1984, fought with the Penan people, the last migratory tribal people in the world, and have changed genetic engineering regulations around the world. Because of my work in 1987 against the genetically-engineered microbe Frostban, the company producing the GMO microbe went out of business a year later and there have been no more releases of gentically-engineered microbes by anybody else anywhere on Earth ever since.”

Caffrey also points out that Solomon doesn’t actually have any accomplishments which have solved the issues he’s worked on. “He hasn’t saved any forests, shut down any GMO tests, saved the homes of any tribal people, saved the lives of North Coast homeless people, or won healthcare for anybody. He’s started a couple of think tanks on the media and written some books about war and peace. Last time I checked, ten years after Norman’s flight to Kabul, we’re still in Afghanistan murdering thousands of people. He’s just another CEO, but for non-profit corporations.”

Caffrey’s run a tight “$10,000 campaign” to reach as many people with his own media, including the Internet and grassroots organizing, as a million dollar candidate reaches with their million dollars worth of TV ads. “I was also the first of the candidates to produce and air on broadcast TV campaign ads. ‘Destroying Democracy,’ ‘No Jobs On A Dead Planet,’ and a celebration of the 25th anniversary of my anti-GMO campaign against Frostban have been the themes of my ads. So far, I’ve run them in Humboldt and Del Norte counties during Late Show with David Letterman and CBS This Morning with Charlie Rose, as well as the local NBC news and Fox TV’s Mornings On Two and 10 pm news.

On Thursday, the three “Emerald Triangle candidates. Caffrey, John Lewallen (I) and Dr. William Courtney (D) plan a joint press conference in Marin County to denounce President Obama’s raids on dispensaries. More details forthcoming but Caffrey promises to smoke his medicine again at that conference.

Our concern is no longer can we power our civilization entirely with renewable energy sources. It is that we must do so as fast as humanly possible.

You can help elect the first Green to Congress! Really! In 2012! Help today!

Andy Caffrey for Congress 2012 CA-2nd District

Send your contribution today! P.O. Box 324, Redway, CA 95560.
Please make a campaign contribution here.

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WODETZKI’S PICKS

Hello,

Folks regularly ask me for voting recommendations, so here they are.

PRESIDENT: For registered Democrats, I suggest you write in Rocky Anderson, ex-mayor of Salt Lake City, who is in favor of single-payer healthcare, fair taxes, and an immediate end to our wars. Obama is sure to win this Democratic primary, so a protest vote for his selling out to Wall Street, health insurers & the war machine (who all gave his campaign million$) is needed. For registered Greens, vote for Jill Stein.

US SENATOR: Diane Feinstein is sure to win again, but instead of voting for this conservative Dem and true 1%er, I’m voted for retired teacher Marsha Feinland of the Peace & Freedom Party.

US REPRESENTATIVE: Definitely Norman Solomon for Congress.

STATE ASSEMBLY MEMBER: Mainline Dem Wes Chesbro is a shoe-in; my protest vote goes to “father/small businessman” Tom Lynch.

PROP 28 (Term Limits): Yes, says the presidents of the League of Women Voters, Common Cause and Congress of Seniors state chapters. I agree.

PROP 29 (Cigarette Tax): Yes, says the presidents of the American Cancer Society, American Lung Assoc., and American Heart Assoc state chapters. The tobacco industry is blanketing TV and our mailboxes with No-on-29 messages. Will Big Money buy another victory? I hope not; vote Yes on Prop 29.

I hope this is helpful.

Tom Wodetzki,

Mendocino Coast Alliance for Democracy, Move To Amend, KZYX radio show Corporations & Democracy

Albion

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SHEEP DOG TRIALS 2012

May means Sheepdog Trials in Redwood country and this year it began at the Yorkville Hills on the Reyneri Ranch, part of the old Hulbert place, in what is colloquially known as Downtown Yorkville this year, featuring over 20 sheepdogs and a flock of rangy, white-faced Torgees, fresh off the Stanley Johnson Ranch in Yorkville.

Who won?

The sheep — by a long shot.

But five dogs took home ribbons and other awards, as well.

Two tied for first place and a run-off was held between Ross, who belongs to Jack Mathieson of Sebastopol; and Jasper, owned by Teri Tucker of Santa Rosa.

Jasper won.

Both dogs had 34 points out of a possible 50, but Jasper’s time was 5:32; Ross came in at 5:58.

Third Place went to Cali, Karen Kollgaard’s dog, with 26.5 points, and a time of 9:04.

Glen took Fourth. He’s owned by Sue Gustafson of Sebastapol. 12.5 points in ten minutes flat.

Bill Slavern of Zanora “retired” his dog, Chance II, and still got Fifth Place.

“Retired,” means he bowed out, as graciously as he could, considering how badly things were going with the clock running out.

The sheepdog trials in the Redwood Empire are done differently than elsewhere. For one thing, the dog handlers are not allowed to use canes, or hand signals, or body english. As opposed to the Drive-Away Style, or as it is sometimes called, the International Style.

The Redwood Empire Sheepdog Association (RESDA), formed locally in 1947, has its own particular rules. Contestants start with a maximum of 50 points; then points are deducted. The “outrun,” “lift” and “fetch” are worth a maximum of 15 points, five points for each sheep. Judges look for a wide outrun to get the dog in place behind the sheep, a calm lift, and a fetch which is controlled and in a straight line. The sheep must go around all four corners of the pen before the handler and sheep can proceed to the first set of panels. As soon as the sheep pass the pen and are headed for the first set of panels, they are being judged. The judge looks for a straight line — no zigzagging, no turning around, no darting off to the left or right, no stalling, no running at high speed. Five points are awarded at the first set of panels; five more at the second set. If the sheep miss the panels, without going through, it’s usually one point per miss.

The handler stands on a base, one-and-a-half foot square, five feet from the inside panel. No movement by the handler is allowed. No hand signals or waiving, no body english, the dogs must do it on their own.

The four basic commands are “left,” “right,” “lie down” (stop) and “walk on” (approach the sheep).

The chute is the most challenging obstacle. It is 10 feet wide at the mouth then narrows to 18 inches at the neck. Getting the sheep through the chute is akin to threading a needle. Ten points are awarded for the chute. Finally, the sheep are put in the pen. Fifteen points are awarded for the pen.

The chute is a harder obstacle than the pen. One might think it should be the other way round, points-wise. The chute is harder because the handlers might stay at the chute too long and run out of time before attempting the pen. There is a 10-minute time limit, with a warning at seven minutes. Usually, the handlers are at the chute when they hear this.

The dogs must not bite the sheep. Only rarely, in self-defense, and then only on the nose. Any biting or “gripping” is an immediate “thank you” from the judge (meaning you are disqualified).

All the judges are from RESDA and are dog handlers themselves. They have to have been competing for at least two full years in the Open Section, which is the Senior Class. The other section is the Pro/Novice Class, where either the dog, or the handler, or both, are new to the trials. There is no chute obstacle in this section. There are around 12 RESDA sheepdog trials each year, from April to October. Some are held on ranches, and the others at the county fairs in Mendocino, Lake, Sonoma and Marin Counties. For a schedule, go to RESDA.com.

The Yorkville Hills trials were first held in 1987, and the event has continued every year, with a few exceptions. Ribbons and money are distributed to the winners, along with beautifully turned wooden bowls, which are made by Cesar Reyneri, a master woodworker. The perpetual first-place trophy was brought by myself from Wales. It’s a carved oak plaque depicting a sheep and sheepdog with a shield bearing the names of the winners since 1987.

On July 22nd the first trials on the Johnson Ranch, at the corner of Highways 128 and 253, will be held. This will be the Curt Beebe and Floyd Johnson Memorial Sheepdog Trials, with Eva Johnson hosting. Of the 20 dogs entering the elimination, the top eight will go on to the Mendocino County Fair in September, where I will be doing the announcing.

I would like to thank Cesar Reyneri for allowing me to hold the trials on his property and for donating the lovely wooden bowls as prizes.

Kevin Owens

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POINT ARENA SAYS GOODBYE TO NIC KING

The town was so full of cars. Theater from noon to 5 Saturday for Nic King’s memorial. Color Slides organized by sons Julian and Silas on the theater screen shot by Nic and family. Overflow then spill’d over to Bill Golly and Andy Johnson’s new bar at 215 Main where Nic’s black and white slides were shown. Bill one of Nic’s neighbor’s on the land and one of the theater founders. Sweet to watch old girlfriends of Nic and folks from the land, slack jawed in front of the screen seeing themselves in the years they started their families. Saw so many people you don’t always see in town.

Nic’s first adopted son, Sam King, was found by his bio-dad a couple of years ago. It was something Sam couldn’t ignore, because PA folks kept returning from Cabo, and Baja saying they ran into this guy who was asking about Sam King. He divulged that he was Sam’s Dad. He’d been a friend of 5-10 years of Elro, our old PA Rx clerk who has a second home down by Cabo. He ran into so many folks from PA that knew Sam King, that he finally met Sam, too! They know each other now. I think Sam is happy with that.

One of Nic’s kids asked (at the memorial) how many people had one of Nic’s apple trees. Most in the room raised their hands. Nic was always giving them away if no one wanted to buy one. As it should be!

Silas, #3 out of 4 King kids, was very impressed and gratified that Tim Bates stood and said they have 500 of Nic’s apple trees at the Apple Farm. Silas was so proud. He mentioned it a few times. He lives in Taiwan now.

Nic had me do bodywork on all his kids since I first moved to Point Arena in ’93. Our kids were in Acorn school together. Nic used to bring me mother’s day gifts after Ruby died. It was usually Ruby food – a favorite cupcake or something. Still makes me cry. He was good that way. Sentimental. So, Silas has been a client since he was about 12. He’s in his 30′s now living in Taiwan where he studies martial arts, meditation and lives full-time on part-time jobs.

About 15 years ago Nic started driving off the road unconscious in his various automobiles. He had Louie Body dementia. Don’t know if I spelled it right. The carwrecks (3) had become too numerous to ignore. Finally, Sara, Nic’s beautiful, bounciful, and bountiful adopted daughter of Black/Italian heritage, came home to check on Nick, and wound up returning here to live (from South Dakota — no brainer).

Since our kids (Julian and Ruby) were in Acorn School, we’d taken a few safety breaks together; sparked a few at the Smoothie Booth Nic ran for Acorn School at Reggae on the River each year. The year I went with Nic was one of his last running the Smoothie Booth. Nic would get all wound up before the event, hoping for HOT HOT weather. Two degrees meant more sales! He used to repeat over and over again, if the weather wasn’t over 100, we might as well pack it in! True, Smoothies sell better at Reggae when it’s over 100°, and we sold $24,000 in Smoothies that year in the 102° heat, compared to $14,000 the next cold overcast year at Reggae. Nic could be a lot of laughs even if he was a worrywart.

Debra Keipp
Point Arena

Fairly early on, gay marriage lobbying groups realized that whatever else, they had a gigantic money-raising machine on their hands. Not long thereafter, the right wing realized the same thing. John Scagliotti, maker of Before Stonewall, says he reckons gay marriage is so potent a fundraising tool because whereas it’s hard to visualize anti-discrimination, it’s not at all hard to visualize two men or two women saying “We do.”

So Obama didn’t really have too much of a choice and it was essentially risk-free anyway. “Obama’s gay marriage stance sets off money rush” was the headline in the Chicago Tribune. According to Lawrence O’Donnell, one out of six of Obama’s fundraisers is gay. Now they’ll be toiling with tripled ardor, and Thursday’s huge Hollywood fundraiser hosted by George Clooney probably saw a last-minute surge in big contributions. Cynics suggest that the timing of Obama’s announcement that “I’ve just concluded that — for me personally, it is important for me to go ahead and affirm that — I think same-sex couples should be able to get married” might have had something to do with that event.

I think gay marriage is an incredibly boring subject, though I do like to hear right-wingers say that it will bring the whole edifice of western civilization crashing down. It’s hard these days to find such messages of good cheer. I don’t yearn for such a union, so have no personal stake in the issue. Occasionally my gay friends tell me they’d got married, perhaps remembering my denunciations some years ago of the whole campaign for being essentially conservative.

So the liberal progressives glory in Obama’s “courage” and many a doubting heart about the President’s betrayals is lighter and more forgiving. Trashing the constitution, green-lighting torture, claiming the unilateral right to order the execution of anyone, anywhere on the planet… wiped clean off the windscreen.

Romney the Bully 

Start with the classic schoolbully, Flashman, of Hughes’s Tom Brown’s Schooldays:

“Flashman, be it said, was about 17 years old, and big and strong of his age. He played well at all games where pluck wasn’t much wanted, and managed generally to keep up appearances where it was; and having a bluff, off-hand manner, which passed for heartiness, and considerable powers of being pleasant when he liked, went down with the school in general for a good fellow enough. Even in the School-house, by dint of his command of money, the constant supply of good things which he kept up, and his adroit toadyism, he had managed to make himself not only tolerated, but rather popular amongst his own contemporaries; … Flashman was a formidable enemy for small boys. This soon became plain enough. Flashman left no slander unspoken, and no deed undone, which could in any way hurt his victims, or isolate them from the rest of the house.”

So now we find that while at Cranbrook, an elite prep school in Bloomfield Hills, Romney recruited a small gang to ambush a schoolboy called John Lauber who had died his hair bleached-blond. Led by Romney they threw him to the ground, and Romney forcibly trimmed his hair. Then, after this assault, they swaggered off in triumph to Romney’s room. Four of the ambushers contacted by the Washington Post remembered the episode with shame. Lauber died in 2004. In a chance encounter with another Cranbrook alumnus who had witnessed the ambush Lauber said, “It was horrible… It’s something I have thought about a lot since then.”

Romney’s campaign initially said that the Gov hadn’t a mean bone in his body and it didn’t sound like him. Later Romney said he didn’t remember the incident but apologized for pranks he helped orchestrate that he said “might have gone too far.” By bullying standards of the early 1960s in some British schools, the Lauber episode was par for the course. Romney seems to have had a thing about hair. Later he organized another prank at Stanford which involved kidnapping some UC students, shaving their heads and painting their skulls red. There is a nasty streak in the man. I’m not surprised one of his kids ratted him out on the dog episode, which won’t go away because it symbolizes so much about the Mormon millionaire.

Tumbril Time!

A tumbril (n.) a dung cart used for carrying manure, now associated with the transport of prisoners to the guillotine during the French Revolution

My brother Patrick sagely observes:

In the wake of the Hollande victory there may be excessive demand for tumbrils in Paris to cope with those partisans of the Sarkozy regime unwise enough to delay too long their flight across the Rhine or to the Channel ports. This is a frustrating time, of course, for Fouquier-Tinville, wishing to push ahead with his good work, but perhaps a moment also for reflection and even a more “nuanced” approach on his part. For instance, were all those condemned in the past equally guilty? The phrase “bottom line” is overused, but is there an alternative carrying the same meaning? “Please come to a conclusion” sounds too starchy and dull, “Get on with it” too rude. Perhaps there should be a separate category of words and phrases in danger of the fatal blade but might still be saved. There is “nuanced,” as used above, which was a perfectly good word until journalists started using it to suggest (with a slight touch of self-preening) that there might be more than one reason why something is happening. “Remnants” had been doing no harm until it was used in phrases like “the remnants of Saddam Hussein’s regime” or “al-Qaeda remnants” to explain why people whom Washington had claimed were dead and buried still seemed to be in business. For F-T, surely, not just a challenge but an opportunity.”

* * *

In our latest Newsletter we print Vijay Prashad’s terrific Libyan Diary. From the opening paragraphs:

“For over a week, the oil workers of the Arabian Gulf Oil Company (Agoco) have been on strike outside its offices in Benghazi, Libya. Fifty workers and unemployed youth brought their frustration with the new Libyan authorities to the gates of Agoco, a subsidiary of the National Oil Company. This is not the first protest in Benghazi. In January, protestors occupied the National Transitional Council’s headquarters, trapping its chairman, Mustafa Abdul-Jalil, in the building. Last month, fighters from Zintan captured the Tripoli Airport to highlight their demand for jobs. The protests at Agoco have forced the oil company to cut back on oil production by almost 100,000 barrels per day. Indications are that if the protests continue, Agoco might be forced to shut down all production.

“Early in the rebellion, in March of last year, Agoco’s leadership hastened to the side of the rebels. They pledged to allow production to continue as quickly as possible and to use the oil revenues to finance the rebels. “Agoco is now part of the revolution,” an official told the Financial Times on March 10, 2011, “so, we are trying to get money from the oil.” A year later, the former rebels are back at the gates. This time their grouse is not with Tripoli but with Agoco itself. They have come to redeem the promises made by the oil bureaucracy to them. Unemployed youth and exploited workers believed that their blood would produce a new dispensation in Libya. It has not come to pass.”

Bruce Jackson and Diane Christian dissect arguments for the death penalty, old and new. Sample, from a political scientist of high reputation:

“In 1979, political scientist Walter Berns told us Mill needn’t have worried. The issue, Berns said, wasn’t whether or not the death penalty deterred crime or whether or not it could be administered fairly, but rather that the death penalty lends majesty to the law because it is the only punishment in the criminal justice armamentarium that is absolute and irreversible. The accidental execution of someone guilty of nothing, said Berns, is small price to pay the death penalty’s ratification of a procedure that demonstrates the majesty of the law so well.”

Carmelo Ruiz Marrero digs into one of the most deadly operations in the world in the past few years:

“Between June 2010 and June 2011 world grain prices almost doubled. Wheat went up 70 per cent between June and December 2010, and by June 2011 its price was 83 per cent higher than one year before. During the same 12-month period corn went up 91 per cent…

“This does not affect everyone in equal measure. The average American family spends no more than 10 per cent of its budget on food, whereas the world’s poorest two billion spend between 50 per cent and 70 per cent of their scarce income on food.

“The political consequences of these price hikes can be explosive. During the 2010-2011 period several governments around the world were overthrown, there were riots in cities from Kyrgyzstan to Kenya, and three wars started in the Middle East: Syria, Yemen and Libya.

“The ‘Arab spring’ has not been just about democracy, but also about access to food. The rise in wheat prices between 2010 and 2011 was simply devastating for Egyptian families, who on the average spend 40 per cent of their income on food.”

And finally, as a new French president takes over, Serge Halimi evokes the glorious and successful mutiny of Argentina against the world’s most powerful financial institutions.

Alexander Cockburn can be reached at alexandercockburn@asis.com.

I was wrong of course. It turns out one of these classes were a non-negotiable requirement for the graduate program which would afford me the career I have wanted to get into since high school.

All I had to do was enroll and pass with a “C” or higher and I was golden. Sounds easy enough, right? Maybe for you. For me it was my own personal road to psychological Mordor. It was that which I was most reluctant to face. It was something stupid but over the years it had grown large and frightening in my mind. Sounds kindof funny. It was a class, not a warzone. So I did something new. Instead of not trying to get into that program or getting around it somehow I enrolled in the class and then:

I asked for help.

Then universe did that thing where it conspires to make it happen because you have been humble enough to ask. A tutor of great patience and experience was willing to help me. He told me to stop whining about my early-childhood issues with this particular subject and get back to the matter at hand. He was in the ring after every fight (test) offering me water (coffee) and reminding me to keep light on my feet (did you do your homework?).

Why is this story important to you? In my view it is because I could have saved myself literally half a lifetime of stress if I had gotten to this class sooner. The amount of psychological space in my brain dedicated to perseverating in depressed moments about what a dork I was for not implicitly knowing this stuff is absurd. I don’t know where I got the idea you had to know something before you studied it but that was a bunch of crap.

I get wrapped up in fear sometimes. I get so tied up sometimes that I can’t make a choice of my own free will and the universe has to blow me off the fence, to one side or another. When I am on the ground it doesn’t matter what side I am on, just that I am no longer gripping the fencepost with wide fearful eyes. I may not even know it yet, but the world has become my oyster (in a non-manifest destiny, sustainable kind of way).

I am probably not the only one who has some secret they have been running from. I suspect there are more of us out there. I not gonna say everything got hunky dory all of a sudden there is a sense of relief because I worked my way through the woods and found out it wasn’t Mordor after all. It was just a Statistics class.

So go do what you’re afraid of already. We don’t have much time.

Planting sugar snap pea seeds yesterday, I was thrilled to find the raised bed rife with earthworms, young and old. We garden in soil known hereabouts as pygmy, which left to it’s own devices will not grow vegetables or much of anything except bonsai pines and huckleberries and the nefarious Scotch Broom. Thus we have eight raised beds in boxes and four beds in the ground, all requiring manure and compost in addition to the local soil to give us a decent harvest.

This past fall I scored a truckload of rabbit manure and I surmise it is this precious poop that has proven such an elixir to the worms. When I moved here six and a half years ago and set up my above-ground composting bin (and before the bears demolished that flimsy plastic thing) I was dismayed to find nary a worm coming up out of the ground and through the slots in the floor of the bin to gobble the tasty leftovers and give birth to myriad wormlets. In Berkeley where I gardened a small plot for eleven years, my composting bin (a gift from the city to encourage us to do the rot thing), produced gazillions of worms in collaboration with the local ground. But in pure pygmy soil, earthworms are as scarce as pumas, and it took a good three years of feeding massive amounts of worm food to the soil before any sort of worm population took hold.

This rabbit poop is apparently some sort of earthworm Viagra, for now when I turn the soil, the good earth literally dances with hundreds of little wigglers. May they grow large and happy, and may our vegetables and flowers and herbs thrive on their castings.

“Once you are in the midst of delusion, there is no end to delusion.” — Shunryu Suzuki 

One sunny day in my Berkeley garden, about ten years ago, I was enjoying eavesdropping on the conversation raging among three teenaged boys and one seventeen-year-old girl gathered around a table on the deck that jutted out from our house and looked down on my garden, the girl being my de facto daughter Ginger, a beautiful and sociable young woman who attracted males as catnip attracts cats and pineapple sage attracts hummingbirds. As a consequence of Ginger’s charms and sociability, our house was frequently overrun by young men, many of them from good Berkeley homes and heading for college, if they were not already in college. Of these three on the deck that day, one was bound for Harvard, one for Stanford, and the third had recently matriculated at the Berklee College of Music in Boston.

When Ginger sashayed into the house to fetch drinks for the thirsty lads, two of them came to the railing of the deck and peered down at me as I thinned carrot seedlings in ground next to my verdant broccoli.

“Is that…” began Jeremy, the Harvard-bound Physics major, “…um…hey, excuse me. Is that like broccoli in those little bushes?”

“Yes, it is,” I said, smiling up at him.

“Oh my God,” he said, his jaw dropping. “Jason, you gotta come see this. Broccoli is like growing on a little bush right in their garden.”

Soon to be studying politics at Stanford pursuant to becoming a lawyer, Jason joined Jeremy and Raul at the railing. “Where?” he said, looking down on the mass of greenery. “I don’t see anything.”

“There,” said Jeremy, pointing emphatically at a head of broccoli. “Right fucking there, man. I never knew it grew like that.”

“Me neither,” said Jason, shaking his head. “Jesus. Look at all that food. Is that like lettuce?”

“Indeed,” I replied, wondering if perhaps they were spoofing me. “Would you like a garden tour?”

“I would,” said Jeremy, skipping down the stairs, “but those guys are like totally fixated on you-know-who.”

So I gave Jeremy a ten-minute tour of my patch of vegetables and herbs. He pulled a carrot for the first time in his life, washed it in the hose while watering the parsley, took a bite and declared, “God, that is so sweet I never would have known it was a carrot.” Then he smiled beatifically. “I’m blown away. I never knew how any of this stuff got here. What a trip.” Then he frowned and shook his head. “Hey, not to change the subject, but we were just arguing about the Vietnam War. Jason said it was kind of an extension of World War II and was about trying to get their resources, and Raul said, ‘Like what resources?’ and I thought it was like to stop the communists. But was it the Russians or the Chinese we were trying to stop? Or…like…do they have oil in Vietnam? I mean, if they had oil wouldn’t they be like rich today?”

“Buddha was more concerned about how he himself existed in this moment. That was his point. Bread is made from flour. How flour becomes bread when put in the oven was for Buddha the most important thing.” — Shunryu Suzuki

I just returned from the farmers’ market in Mendocino with two vibrant young tomato plants, Sun Golds, orange cherry tomatoes with delicious flavor; cherry tomatoes being the only kind of tomato we can grow in our cool clime without the sheltering warmth of a greenhouse. Buying Sun Golds at the Mendocino farmers’ market has become a tradition for me, five years running now, and though I could easily start my own Sun Golds from seed, I prefer to buy my starts from a grower at the market. I suppose if I had a greenhouse, I would be more likely to start my own tomato plants from seed, but maybe not. I like the tradition of going to market to get plants, and I look forward to hunting for the most promising ones, speaking to the growers as I search, maybe sharing a tomato growing story or two. All of which begs the question: why don’t I have a greenhouse, even just a little one, to enhance my gardening experience?

I have now been a renter for eighteen years following fifteen years as homeowner following ten years as a renter, and for all twenty-eight years of my life as a renter some part of me expected to become a homeowner any day now. When I rented my house in Berkeley for eleven years, I did not plant a lemon tree for the first five years because I was convinced that if I were destined to live in Berkeley for more than a few years, surely I would find a way to buy a place and plant a lemon tree there. And now I have lived for six years in this wonderful house we rent on a piece of paradise a few miles from the village of Mendocino, and though my rational mind knows we may never own a house in this kingdom of expensive houses, I have yet to plant blueberries or grapes or fruit trees, or to build a small greenhouse because of that same expectation of possibly owning a home one day. Of course, what makes my reluctance to build a greenhouse entirely silly is that I could easily build the greenhouse to use in our garden now and take the blessed thing with us should we ever fulfill our dream of owning our own place.

“When we become truly ourselves, we just become a swinging door, and we are purely independent of, and at the same time, dependent upon everything. Without air, we cannot breathe. Each one of us is in the midst of myriads of worlds. We are in the center of the world always, moment after moment. So we are completely dependent and independent.” — Shunryu Suzuki

I vow to be more consciously a swinging door, to do the things I want to do now and with much less care for what may or may not happen in the future. I vow to plant a lemon tree if a place in the ground calls out to me and says, “Hey you with the arms and legs and shovel. We could use a lemon tree right here, whether you stick around after you plant it or not.” I vow to live in this house we rent as if we may never leave here until we die. The moment, as Shunryu Suzuki would say, is what we’ve got. The rest is illusion.

I’ve been here before and made similar vows, which I am just now remembering. Five years ago I was quite ill and wondering if I would be around in this body much longer. I had long been planning to publish my book of short stories Buddha In A Teacup, and I kept saying to Marcia, “I will, I will…after I’m completely well.”

Marcia was wonderfully patient with me through my long ordeal, but one evening she said, “By waiting until you think you are completely well, might you be suggesting to your body and the universe that you don’t entirely believe you will get well? Why not go ahead and publish your book and trust that in doing so you will speed the process of your healing?”

So with great trepidation, I followed her counsel and published my book, and in the process of bringing forth Buddha In A Teacup my health improved and life became rosy again, rosy and suffused with the energy of no longer waiting around for some other moment than this one. And because everything is connected, I have since received a good many letters from people who read Buddha In A Teacup and wanted to thank me for reminding them that when we live in the past or dwell in the future, we aren’t really here; and what fun is that?

Todd’s web site is UnderTheTableBooks.com.

Rebellion was not as it seemed

Witness to a ravaged whore

His mother pounding at his door

Ignoring her as his mind burned

Poor heart dribbles at the stern

* * *

I’m reading The Day on Fire by James Ullman, a novel written in 1956 inspired by Arthur Rimbaud’s life. Rimbaud, born in 1854, was raised in Charleville, Ardennes France. He was a brilliant student who won awards but who later turned into an infant terrible. He had been raised by a single mom who nagged him to death and he would put a chair up against the door to keep her out of his bedroom while he wrote. Rimbaud quit sharing his writing before he turned 20 and became a wanderer and an adventurer. Still young, someone asked him if he was still into writing. The person who asked the question wrote later that Rimbaud gave him a look as though he had been asked if he still played with hoops. He died from cancer at age 37.

President Obama: Kent State Letter from Allison’s Family

Kent State Peace May 1, 2012

President Barack H. Obama, The White House Washington DC 20500

Dear President Obama:

Last week my mother Doris Krause urged me to write a personal letter to help you understand the May 4th Kent State Massacre from a mother’s perspective, one parent to another. Voicing my reluctance to write again, I said, “I’ve written to President Obama more times than I can count.”

But Mom insisted, “Laurie, I want you to write about our family and how we’re similar to President Obama’s family. Let him know what happened when Allison went to college at Kent State, how she was shot dead protesting the Vietnam War by the National Guard on her campus. How afterwards your dad fought for the rest of his days, for Allison’s death to ‘not be in vain’ and how, even today, we have lost every Kent State battle for truth about Allison’s death.”

My 86 year-old mother, Doris Krause, was born and raised in Lorain, Ohio, growing up during the depression. When she was 20 years old, she married my dad Arthur just as he returned from service in WWII. Art and Doris Krause had two daughters, Allison and me.

In September of 1969, my big sister Allison went away to college. Allison was a smart, beautiful, loving, funny freshman enrolled in the Kent State University Honors College. She was deeply in love with her boyfriend Barry and was popular on campus. Allison had a special quality nearly impossible to describe, a compassionate, gorgeous, full-of-life young woman who seemed to have it all.

On April 23, 1970, our family celebrated Allison’s 19th birthday together in Kent, Ohio, going out for dinner. It was the last time any of us saw Allison alive.

Ten days later, our family life and world were torn apart forever. We heard about trouble at Kent State, then that Allison had been hurt. Frantically we searched for information on Allison but all the Kent phone lines were cut. Hours later we heard that Allison was dead on arrival at the hospital, killed by National Guard bullets.

Mr. President, there were no officials from Allison’s school, the state of Ohio or the National Guard to help us at the hospital when we identified Allison’s body on May 4th. Instead, at the hospital where her body lay still, we heard men with guns mutter to us, “they should have shot more.”

The 10 years following Allison’s murder were filled with lawsuits from the lowest courts in Ohio to the U.S. Supreme Court. I was going to college yet remember the government’s staunch resistance to our lawsuits and the utter unwillingness to share evidence or any reports on what happened to Allison in the May 4th Kent State Massacre. In 1979, the court cases ended with a settlement based on civil rights. http://bit.ly/JkeGxG

During my family’s pursuit of justice for Allison we were constantly hounded by the FBI. Our phones were tapped, threats were made to my father, agents took pictures of us where ever we went. This harassment finally culminated in my father being offered a bribe. In the presence of author Peter Davies, my father was told to name his price for dropping his case, “One million, two million?” It was made clear that the bribe was coming through the Ford Foundation, and if he refused it, his job at Westinghouse and our family’s freedom would be in serious jeopardy. My father was furious and obviously turned this down in no uncertain terms, but the threats had a chilling effect on us. Every facet of our lives was ripped apart by Allison’s death and the endless harassment by our government.

Since May 4, 1970, the U.S. government has never allowed the Krause family to know the facts or see the evidence related to Allison’s murder on her Kent State campus. The truth at Kent State remained buried until recently in the examination of the Kent State Tape. http://bit.ly/HcliUa

The Krause family rejects Attorney General Holder’s refusal to open a proper, impartial, independent investigation into the Murders at Kent State. We agree with Congressman Kucinich on Kent State, demanding the 2012 Department of Justice disclose their full report leading to their decision to close the books on Kent State again. http://1.usa.gov/IDiv2q

Two years ago, I began phoning the Justice Department about the new evidence found at Kent State, as the statute of limitations never lapsed on Allison’s murder. Mr. President, AG Holder’s Department of Justice refused my calls and kept sending me to the civil rights division even though Allison died at Kent State.

Last week’s Department of Justice letters on Kent State do not mention the loss of life on that campus, continuing this government ploy to deflect murder by pointing to loss of civil rights. A violation of Allison’s civil rights turned into homicide when they fired the bullets that took her away from us. http://1.usa.gov/IN6RDu

On May 4, 1970, just after noon as students were changing classes and a protest was called, the National Guard shot live ammunition at Kent State students. Our Allison was more than a football field away at 343 feet from the guardsmen that shot her to death. Since then, we have never learned what Allison did wrong to meet such a tragic, violent end. Our original call for ‘Allison’s death to not be in vain’ has been scrubbed from the history of the May 4th Kent State Massacre.

Coming back to what Mom asked me write to you, President Obama, she shared how, “The First Family is almost identical to the Krause family.” If this happened to your family President Obama, how do you think you’d survive this onslaught?

Last week Alison would have celebrated her 61st birthday. With the 42nd anniversary of Kent State approaching on May 4th, we continue to stand for Truth and Justice for Allison. We hope no more American families will bury their young as we did after Allison’s unnecessary and unwarranted death, with zero accountability by the May 4th Kent State Massacre perpetrators.

Please do not allow another Kent State anniversary to pass without truth and justice for Allison Krause and her fellow murdered classmates Jeffrey Miller, Sandy Scheuer and William Schroeder.

No More Kent States.

Laurel Krause

Kent State Truth Tribunal

www.TruthTribunal.org

Fort Bragg

PS. ‘Voluntary Quicksand’

I read the Chronicle this morning

as if I were stepping into voluntary quicksand

and watched the news go over my shoes

with forty-four more days of spring.

— Richard Brautigan, Kent State America, May 7, 1970

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BOND DISCREPANCIES NEED INVESTIGATION

Dear District Attorney Eyster:

Re: Discrepancy in Measure E Bond Funds

In 2003, over 73% of the voters in the Point Arena School District voted to pass the Measure E Bond ($3.7 million) to build a K-5 school in Gualala and convert the Point Arena Elementary School into a middle school.

Unfortunately, in 2008, State funds were rescinded due to “no substantial progress made for the project lists.” A decision was made in 2009 to split the Bond and proceed with the projects at the Arena Elementary School specifically a library/media facility, science instructional lab, and dining/community hall. At that time, the Bond was split with $1.8 going toward Gualala, $1.8 toward Point Arena and leaving $158,980 into an undesignated reserve fund to be used to pay any administrative fees the Bond would incur.

The district proceeded with the above projects at the Point Arena Elementary and in the autumn of 2010 the decision was made to defease the remaining portion of the Gualala Bond.

On January 18, 2011, the Bond Oversight Committee met. At that time, a draft was presented to the members by Dr. Cross. Throughout the splitting of the Bond funds the undesignated reserve had paid the administrative fees incurred. Yet, the draft clearly indicated the undesignated reserve would be split between Gualala and Arena and then out of that split the administrative fees would be split between both Gualala and Arena. However, the cost to defease the Gualala Bond would only be charged to Gualala. I questioned this because I believed it to be unjust to the taxpayers of Gualala. Dr. Cross informed the members that the defeasance costs were to be taken only out of Gualala because it was the Gualala Bond that was being retired (totally opposite of what Dr. Cross stated in her email to me on November 1, 2010 — Exhibit J). However, I maintained the premise that had it not been for the taxpayers voting for the school in Gualala the projects performed at the Arena Elementary School would have never taken place and only felt it was fair for the taxpayers to receive the funds. The committee members approved the draft with the “final” amount of $1,848, 250. Dr. Cross informed the members “since they would no longer have to meet the Bond Oversight Committee was being dissolved” and thanked them for their service. The committee also approved this. Thus, the members were disbanded and never met after this date.

On January 20, 2011, the Board of Trustees agreed to defease $1,848,250 “back to the taxpayers”….

However, as you can see from the attached information provided you this is not the “final” amount that was returned “back to the taxpayers” but only $1,818,155.07 (Exhibit D) was returned. Essentially, the defeasance costs were deducted twice from the Gualala Bond Fund.

On April 2, 2011, Meg Kailikole, Financial Administrator in Point Arena, informed me there were remaining Bond funds which would be spent on another project at the Arena Elementary School (not previously authorized by the Bond Oversight Committee). This project approved by the Board was for two additional modular classrooms to the elementary school because of an increase in enrollment since 2006. In 2009, one of the reasons the community was told the school in Gualala just couldn’t happen was due to the fact enrollment had been decreasing and without enrollment there was no need for the school. As a matter of fact even, at the January 2011 Bond Oversight Committee, Trustee DeWilder informed the members this was also one of a main reasons and, yet, at that time we had two kindergartens, first and second grade classes.

California Education Code 15282 clearly states: “The purpose of the citizen’s oversight committee shall be to inform the public concerning the expenditure of bond revenues. The citizen’s oversight committee shall actively review and report to the proper expenditure of taxpayers’ money for school constructions.” How can a committee actively review the project approved by the Board of Trustees since they were been disbanded when there were still funds in the Bond? Also, I see nothing on the “Bond Project List” under Arena Campus Conversion to Middle School that would permit bond funds to be spent on the installation of new classrooms (Exhibit K).

Education Code 15288 states: “It is the intent of the Legislature that upon receipt of allegations of waste or misuse of bond funds authorized in this chapter, appropriate law enforcement officials shall expeditiously pursue the investigation and prosecution of any violation of law associated with the expenditure of those funds. That is why as, district attorney, this needs to be investigated. So, I believe due to the discrepancy in what the Bond Oversight Committee and the Board of Trustees approved as the “final” amount to be “returned to the taxpayers” you as the “appropriate law enforcement official” should investigate this to assure the taxpayers the correct amount of monies are returned to them in the good faith for which they voted for this bond.

Finally, if it is to be in good faith what needed to have happened is all “administrative fees” (including defeasance costs) should have been deducted (as per Schools and College Legal Services and Dr. Cross) from the “undesignated reserve fund” and then the remaining monies returned to the taxpayers — $1,934,273.07. However, if monies were to be split between Gualala and Point Arena it should, at least, have been done after “administrative fees” were deducted. This would have left Point Arena $67,571.04 to complete the protective overhang and Gualala $1,866,702.03 to be returned to the taxpayers.

Respectfully,

Suzanne L. Rush

Manchester

PS. In the AVA on April 18th, I wrote a letter regarding the lack of discretion the Point Arena School Board has demonstrated over the past six years and continues to demonstrate. I also noted numerous times in the AVA Trustee Susan Sandoval’s (a lawyer) refusal to let members of the community ask questions of the Board during their meetings. I informed the Board this was not in accordance to State Board Bylaw 9320(a) which stated: “In accordance with state open meeting laws (Brown Act), the Board shall hold its meetings in public and shall conduct closed sessions during such meetings only as authorized by law. To encourage community involvement in the schools, meetings shall provide opportunities for questions and comments by members of the public and shall be conducted in accordance with law and Board-adopted bylaws.”

This paragraph was changed (at the discretion of the Board) and approved by Board to read: “Meetings of the Governing Board are conducted for the purpose of accomplishing district business. In accordance with state open meeting laws (Brown Act), the Board shall holds it meetings in public and shall conduct closed sessions during such meetings only as authorized by law.” Obviously, it was done to prevent opportunities for members of the public to make comments and or ask questions!

The Point Arena School Board continually fails to grasp the concept of Brown Act Law (which there is absolutely no consequence for them if they do not obey this Law). The Law clearly states, “The people of this State do not yield their sovereignty to the agencies which serve them. The people, in delegating authority, do not given their public servants the right to decide what is good for the people to know and what is not good for them to know. The people insist on remaining informed so that they may retain control over the instruments they have created.”

I only have one simple question, how is it even possible to assure any member of the community that they have control over a Board when they are refused to ask any questions even for clarification of Board decisions? There is absolutely no accountability, transparency, or integrity to “public servants” in which the Point Arena School District Board Members’ are suppose to serving!

_______________________________________

MORE WINE?

Editor,

Re: Will Parrish’s “Artesa’s Hitman,” (AVA, 5/2/2012)

So, while Spain is heading spiraling into the economic abyss, a mega Spanish conglomerate is reaching out to a remote Mendo forest to make what? more wine? what is wrong with this picture? Artesa of Barcelona is seriously, and possibly crimially misinformed as the Spanish government if they believe they make make one Euro off of this ‘project’. Aresa leave those logs up there for the loggers and mills. An 80 yr old redwood is definitley more economically productive than a tub of fermented grapes!

Name Withheld

Healdsburg

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OCCUPY THE GROVE

Editor,

Redwoods Occupy Begins May 12.

Beginning Saturday, May 12th, Occupy Richardson Grove offers the opportunity to kick back in the Cathedral quality shade of our old growth Redwoods. Our planned “4 day American Spring event” will end on Tuesday the 15th but it could last as long as our shared enthusiasm. Richardson Grove was put on the chopping block by the previous Governor. The CalTrans plan that resulted was recently returned to the drawing board by a federal judge who called it “implausible,” noting that their “false data” and “inaccuracies” demanded “a corrected analysis.” But there’s no victory until the plan is cancelled. Join us at the Truth Booth in French’s Camp. Come and get a feel for the grove, camp together, do some hiking, biking, enjoy an American Spring in the oldest Forest in the World. Meals will be provided but bring food to share, maybe a bike too.

You can donate to us through our Garberville Credit Union, 757 Redwood Drive, Garberville CA 95542, Account # 15929. Contact us through occupyrichardsongrove@gmail.com  or phone us direct at 707-932 5898.

Paul Encimer

Garberville

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ANOTHER GREAT SHOW

Dear Editor,

The Anderson Valley Unity Club’s Garden Section thanks everyone who made the 2012, Wildflower Show another success. This year’s show was dedicated to Gwen Sidwell, a beloved member whose love of her garden and her music inspired us all. We had very good weather and an increase in attendance over last year. Eugenia Herr’s botanical prints made by her grandfather were an especially nice compliment to the show. Thank you to Anderson Valley High School’s art instructor, Nadia Berrigan, for her efforts in providing the materials for her students to produce beautiful watercolor scenes from our Valley. In addition, Evelyn Ashton’s herbarium and watercolors of plants and Dot Hulbert’s scanned wildflowers made wonderful displays. The invasive plant table had specimens, pictures and information regarding the damage these plants cause to native species. An extensive Lyme Disease exhibit presented by Sue Davies provided needed information regarding preventive measures and the dangers associated with Lyme. On Sunday a slide show of wildflowers was shown on a photo monitor, courtesy of Pat Smith, Alice Bonner and Robyn Harper.

We wish to thank the following for raffle donations: Celeri and Son of Fort Bragg, Ken Montgomery of AV Nursery, Ludwig’s Tin Man Nursery, Oak Valley Nursery, Whispering Winds Nursery, Fiddler’s Green Nursery, Digging Dog Nursery, Dirt Cheap of Fort Bragg, Lovin Blooms, Gowan’s Oak Tree, Praetzel and Herr, Sun & Cricket, All That Good Stuff, Laughing Dog Books, Farmhouse Mercantile, Friedman Brothers, Ukiah Safeway, The Pot Shop, The Rock Stop, Philo School of Herbal Energetics, The Puzzle People, Christy Kramer, Malcolm West, Susan Gross, Linda McElwee, Lee Serrie, Val Hanelt, Linda Wylie, Eileen Pronsolino, Robin Lindsey, Joanie Clark, Barbara Scott, Beverly Dutra, Mary Darling, Christine Clark, Liz Dusenberry, and Sue Davies. Thank you to Shirley Hulbert, Gloria and Sharon Abbot for the delicious food served in the tearoom.

We wish to also thank the following people who helped our club members with collections, identification, the raffle, plant donations, set- up or cleanup: Peter Warner, Kathy Bailey, Bob and Chris Sowers, Lynn Halpern, Ken Montgomery, Wally Hopkins, Hans Hickenlooper, Sandra Nimmons, Sarah McCarter, Keith Gamble, Walt Valen, Bill Harper and Eugenia Herr.

Thank you to the Fairgrounds staff for all their help and allowing us to hang our banner. Also thanks to Robert Rosen and the Anderson Valley Brewery for allowing us to place our banners advertising our event on their fences.

Anderson Valley Unity Club Garden Section

Robyn Harper, Chair

Anderson Valley

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A FEW LEGAL POINTS

Dear Editor:

I like Bruce McEwen, and I admire his writing.

Please allow me to add a few points to his article “When an LA Cop Meets a Westport Bush Hippie.”

1. In addition to entering a plea to brandishing a firearm, Kieth Jakovac pled to “criminal threat” as both a felony and a “strike.” When taking his plea on March 5, Judge Moorman said: “Now, I did want to advise Mr. Jakovac that Count 5 . . . is a strike offense, which means that . . . it remains a strike offense for the rest of your life.”

2. I told defense counsel Justin Petersen before his client entered his plea that I would be arguing for 365 days in county jail as a condition of probation. Mr. Petersen stated on the record: “My client … understands there’s an agreement there would be no state prison at the outset, that he could still get up to a year in the county jai, and how much jail time he does is up to the Court.”

3. The victim, Tui Wright, was present in court at the time of the plea, and agreed to the disposition.

4. At the time of sentencing on April 24, I argued for 365 days in county jail despite the extraordinary number of favorable letters on behalf of Mr. Jakovac.

Thank you.

Tim Stoen, Deputy DA

Fort Bragg

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THE END IS NIGH

Oh, my, my.

The tip-off was the arrival in the Persian Gulf of the THIRD aircraft carrier group.

We need all that power for the upcoming war with Iran, already planned!

Netanyahoo will start it, of course (to keep Number 1 bully position in the neighborhood), he being suicidal and all.

Plays straight into the hands of the military-industrial complex which is threatened with peace in the world. If Romney wins we won’t need a coup d’tat. If Obama does we will. And we’ll get it too.

Head in the Clouds

Eureka

PS. It might even just fit the timing of the end of the Mayan calendar. What a coincidence — or is it?

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OOPS, FORGOT A FEW

Dear Editor,

In our haste we forgot some important people and businesses who helped make the Earth Day Hendy Woods benefit at Navarro Vineyards such a success. Huge thanks to Karin Strykowski, Pat Hanks, Felipe Mendoza and the rest of the crew at Navarro Vineyards. Thank you, as well, to Rhonda Sands and Real Goods, the Anderson Valley Advertiser, Mendocino Beacon/Fort Bragg Advocate, Eric Labowitz and Matt Rowland.

Sincerely,

Hendy Woods Community Board of Directors

Philo

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KASHIA TO VISIT RUSSIA

Editor:

In 2012 Fort Ross State Historic Park will commemorate the founding of Settlement Ross in 1812.

This 200th anniversary event will include programs and projects which will highlight the natural and cultural history through the park’s existence.

The Kashia Pomo, the First People, are the first people of this diverse history.

We are pleased and honored that the Kashia Pomo are participating fully in the 2012 events.

January of 2012 we started the year off with the Kashia offering the opening blessing and acknowledgment of Kashia as First People of this land by the Russian people and California State Parks.

Another highlight and historic moment is the planned trip to Russia by the Kashia Pomo to view the artifacts collected by Russian scientists — a collection today viewed by many as the oldest known collection of Kashia Pomo basketry as well as many other adornment artifacts.

This one single event is the most warranted international cooperative effort for the Kashia and the Russian communities.

Fort Ross is an excellent example of the best of California and what it has to offer the world: a rich history, diverse cultural legacy, beautiful nature and dedicated people.

As stated in our mission, we want all cultures represented and feel as though they have many opportunities to contribute by sharing this story.

We are reaching out to you to ask for support of the Kashia Pomo and this amazing trip we hope to take.

We are raising funds for seven Kashia Pomo tribal members to travel.

The Russian Federation in San Francisco has offered to support the Kashia Pomo and this historic journey by providing for transportation and housing while in Russia.

We would like to ask our American counterparts to assist in funding the other needed travel and living costs of $2,000 per person. Any donation would be welcomed. (Fort Ross Conservancy, 19005 Coast Highway 1, Jenner, CA 95450. FortRoss2012.org)

Emilio Valencia, Tribal Chairman

Kashia Band of Pomo Indians of Stewarts Point Rancheria

Robin Joy, Chair, Fort Ross 2012 Steering Committee

Jenner

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2 TIMES BLUE

Editor,

Haiku in response to Nate “2 Times Red” Collins, who offers long rambling semi-coherent letters of great authority on many matters and on behalf of unspecified “people”:

“Whining”? Me? Say what?

Consensus here: You’re a nut.

But thanks for reading!

Steve Heilig

San Francisco

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WHAT’S UP WITH THE PARKS?

AVA,

I wish you would investigate the extremely well-heeled California State Parks Foundation — “your voice for parks.” Not to be confused with State Parks and Recreation Department which should be our voice.

Anyway, this bunch appears to be at the forefront of the takeover of our parks. They seem to be operating with insider information. Their board of trustees has presumably ponied up the lucre to get the ball rolling. Also, in celebration of their long-standing partnership, PG&E has given them $1.5 million for park improvements.

Walt Disney Company is helping with the Park Film Fest and Earth Day 2012 is presented by PG&E, Chevron and Edison International.

They publish a slick little newsletter on-line and in print. According to the most recent edition of California Parklands, Sonoma County and the city of Benicia have received approval to negotiate agreements with the California State Parks Foundation to keep certain state parks open. Who is at the helm?

I’ve heard that they are trying to exclude non-profits that are not of corporate parentage and that they are lobbying for taxpayer-funded subsidies with a return of 3% of any profits, the sermons are wild and varied and the talking heads are not talking about this.

Meanwhile California Parklands Foundation is busily and ceaselessly seeking donations to add to their booty.

I am sure they would like their logo with the cute California partridge to replace our state parks.

What’s going on?

The Beckingtons

Little River

PS. Your drumbeating for Hendy Woods appears to have helped make great headway in saving that cherished local park.

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FRANKLIN GRAHAM REPLIES

Editor,

I have written (see AVA March 28, Tin Cup Politics and Park Closures, p1) of my frustration as an attendee of the California State Parks Foundation’s Park Advocacy Day that any mention to the legislators that day of the threat of privatization was discouraged. I was told repeatedly “Don’t go there.” To date, the Department of Public Works, which is responsible for vetting proposals to operate state parks slated for closure refuses to identify private, for profit companies that are trying to take over selected parks—generally those with the highest revenue potential, such as Hendy Woods. Anyone seeking to know how well such for profit operations do in managing parks should check out the reactions of visitors to Big Basin State Park, run by California Parks Company. The picture is NOT pretty.

To date, 23 parks have been tentatively removed from the closure list. The means of taking a park off the list have been many and varied. Volunteer groups have been formed to run a few, none of which offer overnight camping, which is the main draw for a for profit outfit. Many have been saved by the donations of thousands of dollars In one case alone, Henry W. Coe, private citizens had to pony up $900,000 for a 3 year reprieve.

It should surprise no one that the California State Parks Foundation is carrying water for the likes of PG&E, Chevron, and such likes. CSPF has become a permanent, executive bureaucratic dream. They have convinced 130,000 members that they are doing good. Yet, when it comes to park closures, they have played a two-faced game. They claim to be trying to avert the worst effects of the closures. But in truth, their prime objective is to stay in play with the legislature, the Governor, and private companies willing to underwrite part of their ongoing operation. If necessary, they will throw overboard sacrificial parks to stay at the table. It is the way with most bureaucracies. The executive staff of CSPF is full-time, career based, professionals. Their first priority is job security. Otherwise, they would be much more strident about the pending closures and the advance of private, for-profit initiatives.

Next week, I will have an update on the situation and more to say about CSPF and the “running out the clock” two-step on the part of the State Parks Department.

Franklin Graham

Park Closures Study Group

Navarro

PS. At the organizational meeting of the Park Closures Study Group there were about a dozen of us. However, since the first meeting we have been unable to shake loose the information about the closures process that we focused on, so no meetings since. I have, however, met more than once with Barry Vogel (Radio Curious) about the problem of public disclosure of the documents. As a member of the Los Alamos Study Group (which was voted one of the ten best small NGO’s last year) I took the name from their example. My son Darwin is one of the real driving forces there — as a member of the board. I do have more information coming in from MAPA (Mendocino Area Parks Association) and Senator Noreen Evans’ office. It appears things are beginning to pop — and not for the better for the North Coast. A private company has a bundled bid in for four Mendocino parks — all with camping as a main attraction. Want to bet they get the concession? Interesting how every volunteer group that has submitted a proposal to run a park is identified. Yet, no one will identify who the for-profit company is.

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FROM HIPPY TO 401K

Editor,

Re: “Death of Hippie,” (AVA, 4/26/2012)

Nice read, thank you. After reading this piece, I wanted to look more into Owsley. I found a great article written about him in the Rolling Stone. What an interesting cat he was. This led to that, from here to there, and the reads and memories and the moment in time took me happily for a good hour or two reminiscing away and surfing down the paths of Memory Lane.

Looking back, those 60s and early 70s, they were good times… and then we moved on and onto other things, I suppose. Yeah, I lived in a commune, too, the happiest time of my life. Everything a young man could possibly want. Then we grew up and traded it all in for a life of toil and responsibility, a house and a car and the kids and central plumbing and 401Ks, the road of excess leading to the palace of wisdom, they tell me. Sigh.

‘Skippy’

Santa Rosa

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WHO REALLY CARES ABOUT FISH?

Editor:

A dozen or so years ago a ranch that lies on the Garcia River between the two rancherias owned by Vernon Kendall had the river breach its banks during high water and start to erode Mr. Kendall’s field.

Mr. Kendall hired a bulldozer to reopen the channel — maybe 100 yards of river.

About halfway through the project, Ed Ramos of the Department of Fish and Game came down to put a halt to the project.

Soon after rains came again and proceeded to wash hundreds if not thousands of yards of soil and gravel into the river.

This filled the entire lower river making it very shallow, also making it easy for prey to eat the young trout and warming water in summer which is also lethal to steelhead and salmon.

Attempts were made to plant willows on the Kendall Ranch probably after scientific studies and grant money which resulted in more pollution into the river in the form of giant balls of tangled plastic pie, far more than any pot grower has ever done.

The river has still not recovered.

So I wonder how many fish have died over this period of time. But you didn’t hear a word about it. It wasn’t plastered all over the papers from here to Los Angeles.

So does the Department of Fish and Game really care about fish or publicity? You would think if they really cared about fish there would be no way and they would allow a vineyard in the river that is also making a comeback — the Gualala River. And for the record, the Stornettas always impeccably maintained their portion of the Garcia River at no charge to anyone but themselves.

John Smith

Manchester

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JUST IN FROM CRAIG…

Warmest Cali spring spiritual greetings,

Just finished an extraordinary hike at Briones…with zen priest and dharma dude Steve Cunningham. Who, carried up to the Dickerson bench/peak, a bottle of cold white wine and his lunch plus the finest of Oaktown- style brownies.

A cool down at Berkeley’s Triple Rock brewery (in which it was necessary to go next door and get a premium coffee and bring it back, because the Tripler doesn’t serve coffee), and Steve had a “Bug Juice” beer. This instant at Eudemonia using up my computer time, in order to send you this groovy message: “You must have a clear understanding. ‘Karma’ only governs the experiences you have to undergo. It cannot curtail the freedom that God has given you to act while in this earth plane. This earth plane is a plane of self-exertion. It is your karma bhumi for purushartha. Act! Act!” —Swami Chidananda (Attained mahasamadhi August 28, 2008)

Please appreciate that I am now passively seeking new creative situations, and wish to make spiritually infused artistic statements, with other participants who are taking down the psychotic patriarchal plutocracy. Contact me anytime. All unreasonable offers will be considered.

Love from Oakland, y’all,

Craig Louis Stehr

Oakland

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TAXPAYERS CATCH A BREAK

Editor,

A Ukiah Daily Journal article last week reported that the State Department of Finance has effectively reigned in the efforts of the Ukiah RDA people to continue to spend borrowed tax dollars to subsidize CostCo and help prepare the site for the Court House Palace.

My Letter to the Editor last week (also sent to other local papers) warned of the boondoggle that City Plannng was arranging. Luckily, Governor Brown’s people smelled it out and shut it down.

Hooray for the Taxpayer!!

Jim Houle

Redwood Valley

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DEMOLISH THE PALACE

Editor,

Far be it from me to disparage any worker doing an honest day’s toil, but when I saw those guys rubbing on the exterior surface of the Palace Hotel today, I couldn’t help but think of that scene from a comedy movie where someone has a parakeet which is dead and decapitated. Nevertheless, with a little duct tape to reattach the head, he then attempts to sell the bird to someone. When the prospective buyer points out that the bird is dead, he says, “No no — he’s just sleeping.”

What is it going to take to get it through the thick skull of the Palace’s owner that that bird is really and truly dead!?

Sincerely,

John Arteaga

Ukiah

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RESTORE THE PALACE

To the Editor:

The Palace Hotel has been in the news often recently and on my mind for the past 40 years. A series of owners have done little to preserve it, including Pat Kuleto, who reopened the restaurant for a while.

Now she sits heavily in a sorry state of disrepair, decay, and vandalism. Yet, when I recently went through it from top to bottom I was impressed with how stable the basic structure remains. And now Norman Hudson is cleaning up the interior and exterior. That’s a crucial first step towards rehabilitation.

Please everyone, let us all — the owners, the community and the city — devise a plan to restore and revitalize the Palace and then make it happen.

To demolish the Palace Hotel would be a greater penalty to us all than a profit.

Robert M. Axt

Calpella

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BE THERE OR BE SQUARE

To the Editor,

My name is James C. Anderson. If you can send a reporter to the Safeway Gas Station to the picnic table on Tuesday the 15th in Willits between noon/afternoon and 1pm afternoon, boy, do I have a very good story for you. My hair will be spiked straight up. Everyone knows me there. Just ask for Jimbo.

James Anderson

Ukiah/Willits

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WHITE HOUSE DINNERS

Editor,

The delicate Todd Walton (Too talented for college! Traumatized by a slap on the hand from his music teacher!) writes, “I very rarely watch American movies and almost never watch films containing more than a suggestion of violence.”

Grapes of Wrath, From Here To Eternity, Apocalypse Now, relegated to the tumbril.

Bruce Anderson smugly dismisses the White House Correspondents’ Dinner as “unamusing,” “beyond vulgar,” and “squalidly decadent.” Emma Goldman, don’t invite this guy to the prom.

Sad to read Emil Rossi’s utterly clueless tribute to the rich and unregulated. They sure don’t give a shit about him.

Speaking of whiners, does Lee Simon ever offer any advice or solutions?

Curmudgeonly, but not immune to fun,

Michael Townsend

Port Townsend, Washington

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SCOUT’S HONOR

Dear Editor,

The River Center has found a new partner!

I would like to give a huge shout out to Redwood Empire Boy Scout Troop #82. I am so impressed with this troop of boys led by Mitzi and Dave Wagner and their son and soon to be Eagle Scout Zachary. These kids showed up to work on the second “shady” outdoor classroom at the AV Elementary School two Saturdays ago ready and raring to go. I told them to get ready, that we had some serious work ahead of us that day and they didn’t blink an eye. Zach and Dave went straight to work on building the new information kiosk as the main part of Zach’s Eagle Scout project. The rest of us set to installing 11 benches in an arched design under the shade of the canopy of the Bay and Oak trees. The design was measured and laid out and then we set to digging the holes in the loamy forest soil. Cement was mixed and the benches were placed and leveled and then held in place until the cement was placed in around the bases. This was real work and they stayed with it, all day! The main thing was that together we finished what we set out to do, and it is beautiful! Mitzi and Dave Wagner are offering the Boy Scouts a wonderful opportunity to learn and explore in the outdoors, engage in civic activities that benefit others and feel the reward and satisfaction of taking pride in their efforts. They helped to create a place that is beautiful, that they can return to again and again and feel the satisfaction and pride of what one hard day’s work can become. Thank you Redwood Empire Boy Scout Troop #82 — you rock!

Sincerely, Linda MacElwee

Boonville

That line from John Ford’s film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance proves apt for tales of the Old West time and again. The shootout between feuding members of the Coates and Frost families on Little Lake’s (southern Willits) dusty main street in October, 1867 was fictionalized as early as Lyman Palmer’s 1880 History of Mendocino County. Palmer’s account places the events two years and five days earlier than when three of Pap Frost’s sons rode into town. Elisha, Mart and Isom Frost were all grown men, Isom, the youngest, at 21. Each holstered a Colt navy revolver on their hip. The three Frosts settled in at Baechtel’s store along with their brother-in-law, Frank Duncan. In addition to a pistol, Duncan carried a long-bladed knife.

Once upon a time, so many years ago it might have been another lifetime, I got two kittens, a boy and girl, and after much thought and research named them Boy and Girl. Boy was an orange tabby, Girl was a gray tabby, and in the hallowed tradition of kittens, they played and slept and mewed and ate and clawed things and were wonderfully cute.

When they were about four months old, Boy and Girl played a particular game that made me laugh until I cried. No matter how many times I watched them play this game, I laughed until I cried. Sometimes other people would watch with me as the kittens played this particular game, and some of these people laughed, too, and a few of them even laughed until they cried; but there were other people who watched the game and did not laugh at all, which was amazing to me, and troubling. Here is the game the kittens played.

A heavy brown ceramic vase about fourteen-inches high, round at the bottom and narrowing somewhat at the top, stood on a brick terrace. Girl would chase Boy onto the terrace and Boy would jump into the vase. Girl would sit next to the vase, listening to Boy inside, and when Boy would pop his head up out of the vase, Girl would leap up and try to catch him, and Boy would drop back down into the vase. Then Girl would stand on her hind legs and reach into the vase with her forepaws and Boy would shoot his paws up to fight Girl’s paws, or Boy might leap out of the vase and the chase would resume. Or Girl would be inside the vase with Boy outside and the vase would tip over in the midst of their roughhousing and out would spill Girl.

Why were their antics so hilarious to me? Was it because their play was an enactment of the essential mammalian drama of fright and flight and fight—the thrill and danger of the hunt mixed with the suspense and terror of hiding in order to survive? Yes, I think so. But what’s so funny about that?

“Comedy has to be based on truth. You take the truth and you put a little curlicue at the end.” — Sid Caesar

I don’t have many memories of my mother laughing. My brother and I were forever telling jokes, honing our techniques, and our mother usually responded with a droll, “Very funny,” even if everyone else was howling with laughter.

But there was a time, one glorious time, when my mother and I laughed together so hard and for so long that we literally fell out of our seats and went temporarily blind with laughter. I was fourteen when my mother procured tickets for just the two of us to attend the musical Little Me at the Curran Theater in San Francisco, with the Broadway cast starring Sid Caesar in a dizzying number of roles opposite the ravishingly sexy Virginia Martin, with music by Cy Coleman, lyrics by Carolyn Leigh, a script by Neil Simon, and choreography by Bob Fosse.

As far as I can remember this was the only time in my life my mother took just the two of us to anything. Even more impressive, she splurged on fantastic seats, tenth row, center, which was also highly uncharacteristic of her. What I realize now after almost fifty years was that my mother was giving me the message that though she officially agreed with my father’s opposition to my pursuing a career in music and theater and writing, she unofficially supported my passion for these things.

The success of Little Me depended entirely on the genius of Sid Caesar and his ability to play myriad comedic roles convincingly, not to mention sing well, too. The same play performed with several different actors essaying Sid’s half-dozen parts wouldn’t have worked at all because the point of the play, in a way, is that all these extremely different men are essentially the same guy falling in love with the same woman over and over again. Try as I may, I cannot imagine anyone other than Sid Caesar successfully playing all those parts without becoming tiresome or silly. I knew that was Sid again and again—stumbling off the stage as one character and racing back on as someone else—yet I always believed he was an entirely new character—an astonishing feat. The songs were great, the dancing was fabulous, Virginia Martin was luscious, the chorus girls were gorgeous, the dialogue was snappy and funny, and young Todd was in heaven.

I can still recite whole scenes from the play and sing several of the songs, though I only saw and heard the musical once all those decades ago; but I cannot remember which scene it was that made my mother and I laugh so hard that we fell out of our seats, laughing along with hundreds of other people laughing so uproariously that Sid and his fellow actors froze for a time to let us get through our delirium before they came back to life and carried on with the show. That play and Sid Caesar and Virginia Martin and laughing so stupendously with my mother are burned into my memory more indelibly than almost anything else I have ever experienced.

“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.” — Kurt Vonnegut

When I saw Little Me with my mother, I was a freshman at Woodside High School attempting to fulfill my father’s wish that I become a medical doctor. To that end, I was slaving away in an accelerated program for scientifically ambitious students, something I most definitely was not. Nevertheless, I had yet to work up the courage to defy my father and so was following the prescribed steps on the path he wanted me to follow. As a consequence, I was one of only four ninth graders in a biology class for upper classmen, and we four sat huddled together in a far corner of the big classroom, though we otherwise had little in common.

There came the day of the big mid-term exam, the results to account for half our grade. Everyone in the class was on edge, we youngsters especially so. Our teacher was not a good one, I was badly prepared, poorly motivated, and certain I would botch the test. As we waited for our teacher to arrive with the tests, the four of us began to free associate, someone saying osmosis, someone replying mitochondria, another adding messenger RNA, and so on until we left science behind and were reeling off the names of pretty girls and sports heroes and anything and everything until one of us said something—the ultimate non sequitur?—that proved to be the verbal straw that broke our collective camel’s back, so that just as our teacher entered the room we four began to laugh hysterically.

Our laughter spread to others in the room, but eventually everyone, save for the four freshmen, regained control and prepared to take the test. But we had gone beyond some line none of us had ever gone beyond before, and we could not stop laughing. Our teacher sent us out into the hallway where we fell to the concrete and laughed until our bellies ached. And finally, one by one, we stopped laughing, caught our breaths, and returned to the classroom. But the moment we entered that place of the test, hysteria caught us again and sent us hurtling back outside, our teacher following us out to threaten and cajole, to no avail.

Because we were thought of as good boys, our temporary insanity was forgiven and we took the test the following day, though we were never allowed to sit en masse again. One of us became a professor of Biology, one a conservative federal judge, one a professor of Art, the fourth a writer and musician and the author of this essay. We were as different as four people could be, yet in that moment of youthful hysterics, the pressures of the world too much for us to bear, we escaped into laughter—together.

Underthetablebooks.com  features Todd’s stories and music and a blog dedicated to his essays for the AVA.

Jane Perlez and Michael Wines reported from Beijing on the deal that would get Chen and his family visas to the US, for him to take up a fellowship at NYU.

Andrew Jacobs weighed in with the news that “Once exiled, nettlesome prisoners of conscience, like Chen Guangcheng, almost invariably lose their ability to grab headlines in the West and to command widespread sympathy both in China and abroad.” The op-ed page carried Wang Dan reflecting that, “It’s the right decision for Chen Guangcheng to study in the United States. Democracy and human rights are of great importance, but so are a family’s love and affection.”

A mop-up NYT editorial declared that “What seems to have been forgotten in all the political roiling here is that this episode is first and foremost an embarrassment for China and a glaring reminder of its abysmal mistreatment of its own citizens.”

Let’s suppose that Chen remains spunky once he’s settled in at NYU, and decides some time during the summer to join an Occupy demonstration, along with his wife.

Here’s what they might reasonably expect by way of treatment from the NYPD, if we are to believe — which I do — a report on new police strategies against protestors by David Graeber, anthropologist and creative force in the Occupy movement, on the Naked Capitalism site for May 3.

Graeber begins with a conversation with an old friend:

“A few weeks ago I was with a few companions from Occupy Wall Street in Union Square when an old friend — I’ll call her Eileen — passed through, her hand in a cast. ‘What happened to you?’ I asked. ‘Oh, this?’ she held it up. ‘I was in Liberty Park on the 17th [the Six Month Anniversary of the Occupation]. When the cops were pushing us out the park, one of them yanked at my breast.’ ‘Again?’ someone said. We had all been hearing stories like this. In fact, there had been continual reports of police officers groping women during the nightly evictions from Union Square itself over the previous two weeks.

“‘Yeah so I screamed at the guy, I said, “you grabbed my boob! what are you, some kind of fucking pervert?” So they took me behind the lines and broke my wrists.’ Actually, she quickly clarified, only one wrist was literally broken….Police dragged her, partly by the hair, behind their lines and threw her to the ground, periodically shouting ‘stop resisting!’ as she shouted back ‘I’m not resisting!’ At one point though, she said, she did tell them her glasses had fallen to the sidewalk next to her, and announced she was going to reach over to retrieve them. That apparently gave them all the excuse they needed. One seized her right arm and bent her wrist backwards in what she said appeared to be some kind of marshal-arts move, leaving it not broken, but seriously damaged. ‘I don’t know exactly what they did to my left wrist — at that point I was too busy screaming at the top of my lungs in pain. But they broke it’.”

This happened on March 17, when several hundred members of Occupy Wall Street celebrated the six month anniversary of their first camp at Zuccotti Park by a peaceful reoccupation of the park — a reoccupation broken up within hours by police with 32 arrests. … Many of these arrests are carried out in such a way to guarantee physical injury… Graeber’s friend Eileen’s wrists were broken; others suffered broken fingers, concussions, and broken ribs.

Graeber says “the apparently systematic use of sexual assault against women protestors is new.” On March 17 there were numerous reported cases, and in later nightly evictions from Union Square, the practice became so systematic that at least one woman told Graeber her breasts were grabbed by five different police officers on a single night (in one case, while another one was blowing kisses.) The tactic appeared so abruptly, is so obviously a violation of any sort of police protocol or standard of legality, that it is hard to imagine it is anything but an intentional policy.

“Why is all this not a national story?” Graeber asks.

Back in September, when the infamous Tony Bologna arbitrarily maced several young women engaged in peaceful protest, the event became a national news story. Now there’s nothing. Graeber:

“I suspect one reason so many shy away from confronting the obvious is because it raises extremely troubling questions about the role of police in American society…. The commander of the First Precinct, successor to the disgraced Tony Bologna, is Captain Edward J. Winski, whose officers patrol the Financial District (that is, when those very same officers are not being paid directly by Wall Street firms to provide security, which they regularly do, replete with badges, uniforms, and weapons). Winski often personally directs groups of police attacking protestors: Winsky’s superior is Police Commissioner Raymond Kelly, former director of global security of the Wall Street firm Bear Stearns:

“And Kelly’s superior, in turn, is Mayor Michael Bloomberg — the well-known former investment banker and Wall Street magnate. The 11th richest man in America, he has referred to the New York City Police Department as his own personal army.”

Graeber added an update to his story: “In comments, a reader asked why I did not go to the media. My response: “To be honest my first impulse was to call a sympathetic Times reporter. He said he was going to see if he could spin a story out of it. Apparently his editors told him it wasn’t news.”

It won’t be long before the NYPD kills a demonstrator. It will take that to force the issue of methodical police violence back onto the news pages.

Big city police chiefs are transferring their skills to the international theater. Leonard Leavitt reports on his NYPD Confidential site that if Kelly embarks on a bid to be Bloomberg’s successor in City Hall, Bloomberg could ask him to quit as police chief and then appoint as Kelly’s successor someone with national experience such as Bratton, or someone with both national and international experience such as Bratton’s First Deputy John Timoney. Timoney, who subsequently ran police departments in Philadelphia and Miami, is now advising Bahrain’s Ministry of Interior in that country’s internal religious war.

“Internal religious war” is a tactful way of describing the Khalifa dynasty’s methodical, lethal savagery against the Shi’a’s demand for elementary political rights.

Goodbye to the Great Charles Higham

Charles Higham died last week at the age of 81. He wrote many books, among them a spectacular expose of Erroll Flynn as a Nazi agent and the brilliant Trading With The Enemy: The Nazi-American Money Plot 1933-1949. Both the Los Angeles Times and the New York Times ran snooty obits. (Higham worked as a stringer for the NYT for many years.) Both obituarists energetically attacked his work on Erroll Flynn, but kept quiet about Trading with the Enemy, a devastating investigation of how many of the top US corporations and American super-rich collaborated with the Third Reich before and during the Second World War.

Jeffrey St Clair and I had a most entertaining lunch in Los Angeles some years ago, interviewing Higham, at that time promoting a book he had just published on the murder of Lincoln. Recollections poured forth for a couple of hours. We’ll be running some in the next CounterPunch newsletter. Here’s a few minutes he gave us on Orson Welles:

“One of my first detective successes is that I found Orson Welles’ last film, that he’d made in South America. Briefly, he’d been sent by Nelson Rockefeller of the InterAmerican Affairs committee to cement North and South American relations by making a film about the North and South American associations to prevent Nazi incursions. The result of it is that he broke North/South America relations because he drowned a national hero of Brazil. Not an inconsiderable feat.

“What happened was that he was recreating a raft voyage of the Chingaderras who were the raft fisherman who sailed to Rio from Belem to bring word of their plight to President Vargas. They became the toasts of all of Brazil. They were hailed through the streets. There were 10,000 craft in the harbor to greet them. Orson Wells thought, a cinch for North/South American relations. So 10,000 people were paid a dollar a head, or whatever it was to recreate the scene. There were planes flying over with messages ‘Welcome to the Chingaderras.’ Unfortunately for Orson Welles, a shark and an octopus came out of the water in a death struggle at the wrong moment, the raft turned over and the national hero of Brazil disappeared into the shark. Five days later the remains were washed up. It’s not exactly what he was looking for. Welles had to escape the hotel as a washer woman with a large wicker basket when an angry mob was waiting, but the disguise worked. He got away with it.”

Tumbril Time!

A tumbril (n.) a dung cart used for carrying manure, now associated with the transport of prisoners to the guillotine during the French Revolution.

Phyllis Guest writes, from Dallas: “In case you have not yet consigned these to the dung carts: Game-change and game-changer: Apparently favored by those who work in Washington; I have heard it from lobbyists, TV ‘personalities,’ NPR reporters. Back in the day: Apparently African American street lingo, now adopted as above, too far and too wide.”

Alexander Cockburn can be reached at alexandercockburn@asis.com.

Embattled Texas medical marijuana defendant Chris Diaz, 22, facing 5-99 years prison for 14 grams of cannabis hash that he uses as legal medicine in California, got a rare piece of good news from the trial court on 4/20/12.

Judge Stephen Ellis granted Diaz a hearing, May 10, 1:30pm, in Brownwood Superior Court on the right to withdraw his felony intent-to-sell plea as coerced and involuntary. Chris adamantly insists he was not in his right mind when he agreed to the plea and that he had no intent to sell the small amount of cannabis he carried for his own medical use, driving thru Texas to visit his ill grandmother. If Chris’ motion to withdraw his plea is granted and a mistrial declared, his conviction and 3-year prison sentence would be reversed, allowing him to start again in his effort to challenge the Texas marijuana law for lack of medical access.

The DA can file the same or different charges…or decide not to bother, considering the mounting evidence of criminal coercion and civic humiliation heaped on the little town of Brownwood Texas from this wrong-headed prosecution of a qualified California asthma cannabis patient for a tiny amount of medicine.

On the other hand, the more likely scenario is that Chris’ motion to extinguish his plea will be denied, the Judge will say it was not coerced, giving as proof that he asked Chris at his 3/29 plea hearing if he was aware he was giving up his right to appeal and Chris answered, “Yes.”

What Chris was not aware of were the implications of forfeiting his right to appeal, since his lawyer was so busy extracting the plea that he never explained to Chris the practical effects of the plea. Chris was misled to believe that agreeing to the plea would more or less get him immediate parole with time served rather than a year of prison, allowing him to continue his fight on the outside with legal assistance that has been lacking on the inside.

Involuntary pleas are strictly illegal. Defendants are required to state that their plea is voluntary and knowing — no promises, no threats — for the court to accept it.

Nine months of incarceration under miserable conditions from Mendocino County California to Brown County Texas, including 111 days in solitary confinement, took its toll on Chris Diaz. Waiting for trial in total isolation, deprived of mail, phone calls, visits, all human contact, even legal mail prior to trial when defendants most need guidance, Chris, at age 22 with no prior record, felt confused, scared, abandoned by family & friends, and just wanted release from the “nightmare you never wake up from,” as his Public Defender Rudy Taylor had promised if he’d agree to the plea.

It appears there was never any intention of putting on a defense at trial. Diaz qualifies as a genuine medical necessity patient since his lifelong severe allergy condition is life-threatening, but his doctor was never contacted. In his Mar 31 letter to Judge Ellis, Dr. Courtney wrote: “Your honor, I am confused as to why my patient’s lawyer has not made contact with me regarding my appearance nor reviewed my participation in Mr. Diaz’ defense…the family understood that Mr Taylor would make a motion to the court…but to date I have yet to receive such notice.”

At Chris’ plea hearing 3/29, Judge Ellis asked, “Do you understand you are giving up your right to appeal?” Chris answered “Yes.” He was totally alone in the hearing, unaware of what was going on. His family and supporters were not present because they were not told about the hearing or that a plea agreement would cancel the trial.

Chris later wrote his mother that he’d never been informed of the implications of giving up his right to appeal. “I would never have knowingly given up my right to challenge all the wrong that has been done to me.” This is a classic example of an unknowing plea; he did not understand the consequences of his signature on the plea agreement. Rudy Taylor’s ineffective counsel was responsible for that.

Chris Diaz was misled into thinking the plea would spring him from “the nightmare you never wake up from” by substituting parole for prison. He believed his lawyer was on his side, seeking justice at trial based on medical necessity, in a challenge to the Texas marijuana laws. The act went on for months of deception and degradation with promises never kept, instead solitary confinement imposed without lawyer or family communication, until it came time to extract the plea that would end the case forever. Such treatment cannot possibly be legal, unless torture is now considered legal.

–Pebbles Trippet

It required careful inspection for my friends and I to locate the steelhead, as well as an assist from the local mailman, who seemingly prides himself as much on being an information courier regarding salmon and steelhead sightings in local waterways as he does on delivering the mail — judging from his enthusiasm. First, we spotted a few right under the bridge that crosses over our street, swiveling in a relatively deep pool we’d previously thought of mainly as a great potential swimming hole. After a few hours of looking, we eventually tracked down two more upstream.

The trouts’ dark-olive back is delineated from its iridescent silver underbelly by a luminous pink stripe. I don’t recall if their dorsel fins were clipped, which I remembered only afterward is the mark of their having been bred in one of the two Department of Fish and Game hatcheries on Lake Mendocino and Warm Springs dam. The hatcheries were initiated about a decade ago after the discovery that too few wild fish were returning to sustain a naturally produced migratory fish population in the Russian River.

Today, the Russian — as with its tributaries, including Gibson Creek — provides little more than a mute testimony to the thrashing, silvery surge that once roiled the watershed. As recently as the mid-20th century, the Russian was nationally-renowned for its prodigious steelhead runs, a bounty that the watershed’s population of village-based native people had lived off of for more than 10,000 years, while hardly depleting it at all.

In recent weeks, I’ve been convening a class on the environmental and cultural history of Mendocino County called “A History of Forgetting.” Its main purpose is to examine what has been taken away from the local environment — filled in, paved over, drained, torn down, burned out, tamed, destroyed — as a guide to understanding the world we encounter here and now. It explores the interdependence between nature and culture as it’s played out across time in the local terrain. It also offering some glimpses into class-based exploitation as it’s existed throughout Mendo’s history, including in the cases of Chinese and Latino populations and of the local First Nations people.

The course description reads, “Through a series of field trips, often involving local experts as ‘tour guides,’ we will deepen our knowledge of such things as: what species and cultures in our bioregion have been driven extinct? What resources did pre-conquest indigenous people rely on? What are the histories of the wastersheds we live in? Which creeks are paved over, which are dammed, which are poisoned? What ethnicities have lived in this area in various historic periods? What exact impact have industries such as logging, industrial viticulture, and marijuana had on the local landbase? Where have these impacts been most pronounced?”

As you might guess, the class has been heavy in its emphasis on Russian River watershed history so far. The trout that I witnessed spawning in Gibson Creek, in fact, provided part of the motivation for the course. I wanted to know as much as I could about the historic factors impacting the fish populations in Gibson Creek, which necessarily involves a deeper understanding of Mendocino County history and all that has impacted it.

I forbear to refer to myself as a “teacher” of the class, since my knowledge of the subject is actually severely limited, owing to the fact that I’ve only lived in Mendocino County for three and a half years — Ukiah for three months out of that. Fortunately, my lack of expertise is entirely accepted, if not encouraged, in this case. The class is part of a new project called Mendo Free Skool, a volunteer-run avenue for local people to exchange skills and knowledge. Anyone can be a teacher/learner/facilitator, so the classes take on the flavor of whatever people are interested in at a given time. People convene classes if they’d like to share something they know a lot about, but also in many cases when they know fairly little about something and would like to bring together a group interested in deepening the knowledge with them.

Taking Aldo Leopold’s admonition that “One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds” to heart, I figured it’s always easier on the psyche to learn about such things as the local genocide of First Nations people and the enormous amount of destruction that has been historically wrought on the local terrain as part of a group, rather than as a solitary exercise.

During the two weeks immediately prior to the first class, I read all or most of five local history books, including The Mendocino Papers by Bruce Anderson, Killing for Land in Early California: Indian Blood at Round Valley by Frank Baumgardner (not as good as Genocide and Vendetta, which covers the same general subject, so I’m told, but still an extremely informative read), West of Eden: Communes and Utopias in Northern California (which I reviewed in these very pages recently), An Everyday History of Somewhere by Ray Raphael (which is about Southern Humboldt County, though there’s much overlap), and a 1948 Columbia University history of the Pomo Indians that I picked up at Grace Hudson Museum. The books greatly supplemented my existing knowledge, which I’ve developed mainly through my work as a journalist for the AVA, as well as via my weekly reading of this fine publication. I encourage anyone interested in better understanding the place where we live to read them.

So far, the classes have been lively and well-attended. The first took place on April 7th, a four-hour tour of Ukiah Valley. This was the location of the northernmost settled ranchero in the Mexican state of California, Rancho Sanel, prior the United States’ conquest of California in the Mexican-American War. In a sense, then, the Ukiah Valley was the southern tip of the territorial stretch along the North Coast that remained the exclusive province of First Nations people at the time the United States lumbered in to expropriate it all. I figured it was a fitting place to begin the first-ever class.

To give a small glimpse of how the classes have gone and the terrain they’ve covered, near the start of the first one, the group conducted an exercise where we all pictured, then described, how the place surrounding us might have looked 200 years ago. Impressively, the class’s collective description nearly entirely captured early accounts of nearby Russian River valleys at the time of Europeans’ arrival: Grasses higher than a person’s head. Big game everywhere. The eastern hills covered with brush. Several kinds of oak, fir, pine, madrone, tan oak, chestnut oak, and manzanita. Small stands of redwood growing in a few of the stream heads. Smaller woods included hazel, chemissal, blue blossom, mountain mahogany, nutmeg, yew, and laurel.

Some white oaks had trunks six feet in diameter and were 150 feet high. Golden oaks in the canyons were four feet in diameter and also 150 feet high. Blue oaks covered much of southeastern Mendocino County.

In the second class, we mostly explored the history of inland Mendocino County’s various dams and water engineering projects. On April 29 we met in Boonville for the third of six classes in total. The fourth class will explore Albion and the southern Mendocino Coast (partly inspired by the subject a described in last week’s article: communalism on the North Coast). The fifth class, we’ll visit the hills west of Ukiah leading toward Elk and Navarro. In the final class, we visit Round Valley.

If you are interested in when and where the rest of the classes meet, please drop me a line at wparrish@riseup.net.

My larger interest in developing more detailed knowledge of local history is to strengthen what many environmental historians nowadays like to call “an ethic of place.” That term is, to some extent, a fancy way of referring to the experience of being rooted. As French philosopher Simone Weil once put it, “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” An inextricable part of becoming more rooted is knowing what exactly has happened to prevent us people from being more rooted in the first place; i,e., to know the history of our own places and cultures.

I felt how distant most people in this culture are from that sort of knowledge two months ago, as I stood on my own well-manicured neighborhood street, spotting the first steelhead I’d ever seen spawning in Gibson Creek. The people who designed these streets, as with those in so many others cities throughout the world, are part of a culture that worships the linear and find comfort in a geometric order that alluvial streams like Gibson Creek defy. This same sense of propriety and property is bound up with an abiding faith in technology’s ability to box up the wild and separate it from our lives. We’d be better off to take a cue from the migrating steelhead, always collecting information on the history of the natural environment we’re directly a part of as we go.

Editor,

Make no mistake about it: I love Richard Brautigan.

I really love Richard Brautigan. He was as much a part of my early literary training at the Writing Seminars Department at the Johns Hopkins University as anyone I can think of.

Brautigan was out-of-this-world creative — otherworldly, innocent, child-like, fanciful, fantastical. He was lyrical. He was deeply emotional. He was an occultist.

But Brautigan was also, in his own way, a formalist and polished.

Taken together, all of the above is a rare combination of talents.

Early work, like “Trout Fishing in America,” is an American classic along the lines of Mark Twain. Real satire. True Americana. Pure genius.

Other work, like “In Watermelon Sugar,” is important sociological commentary on Utopia and communal living. Again, real satire. True Americana. Pure genius.

Later work takes another direction. “Sombrero Fallout” draws heavily from Zen Buddhism. In this respect, Brautigan is as important as Jack Kerouac.

Late work towards the end of Brautigan’s life is dark.

Very dark. “So the Wind Won’t Blow It All Away” is a premonition. A premonition of nuclear proliferation? A premonition of capitalism, materialism, consumerism? A premonition of our infatuation with media and technology? A premonition of overpopulation? A premonition of peak oil? A premonition of global warming? A premonition of a dying planet? A premonition of madness?

Take your pick. Brautigan was right about all of it.

That said, I highly recommend the biography written by Brautigan’s daughter, Ianthe Brautigan. It’s called “You Can’t Catch Death.” (St. Matin’s Press)

Incidentally, she lived in Santa Rosa and worked at Copperfield’s for several years.

Her memoir, “An Unfortunate Woman,” is equally compelling.

Ianthe Brautigan tells a sad tale. Living with Richard Brautigan, being

his daughter, and trying to love him and be loved by him, was no picnic.

In fact, there was little about Brautigan’s life that can be romanticized.

Brautigan was an alcoholic for most of his life. A serious drunk. And as a young man, at Oregon State Hospital, he was also diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and clinical depression.

Quoting from the last paragraphs of his Wikipedia page…

Brautigan was an alcoholic throughout his adult life and suffered years of despair. According to his daughter, Ianthe, he often mentioned suicide over a period of more than a decade before ending his life.

In 1984, at age 49, Richard Brautigan had recently moved to Bolinas, California, where he was living alone in a large, old house. He died of a self-inflicted .44 Magnum gunshot wound to the head. The exact date of his death is unknown, and his decomposed body was found by Robert Yench, a private investigator, on October 25, 1984.

The body was found on the living room floor, in front of a large window that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. It is speculated that Brautigan may have ended his life over a month earlier, on September 14, 1984, after talking to former girlfriend Marcia Clay on the telephone.

Brautigan was survived by his parents, both ex-wives, and his daughter Ianthe. He has one grandchild named Elizabeth, who was born about two years after his death.

He left a suicide note that simply read: “Messy, isn’t it?”

Brautigan once wrote, “All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds.”

* * *

If I had a few million dollars, I’d build a public library in a very beautiful place by the Pacific Ocean, like Muir Beach or Moss Landing, and I’d call it the Richard Brautigan Memorial Library.

John Sakowicz

Ukiah

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WHOSE SIDEWALK?

Attn Editor,

Who Owns the Sidewalk in Fort Bragg?

I feel my case would be of interest to local people. I’ve talked to a couple of homeowners who didn’t know they own, and are liable, for the sidewalk. Here’s what happened…

The city public works saw-cut and removed about four square feet of sidewalk, installed a water-meter split, and walked away and left it. The city’s own laws require the hole to be left safe and suitable for traffic, or protected by barricades until completed.

For years city workers stepped in that hole to read the meter, yet never noticed it. Finally, at night, I stepped in it and tore my foot apart, broke my leg, and crushed my back. I filed a claim. The city rejected any responsibility: maintenance of sidewalk is solely the duty of the adjacent homeowner.

Most homeowners don’t know that the city can tear up their property, walk away, and blame them for failure to maintain. The sidewalk is apparently their property, except if they want to do that, they need an encroachment permit and a $2,000,000 bond.

I enclose copies of claim, rejection, city specifications requiring safety sidewalk laws, and the city’s letter to homeowner. Apparently the city work order (also enclosed) said owner would complete concrete work — but that can’t allow them to just leave a hole with no protection, never tell the owner it’s ready, and never do anything until it’s too late.

Yours truly,

Marvin Miles

Fort Bragg

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TRUE BUT STRANGE

Editor,

Fourth paragraph of Off the Record, April 18, 2012: The plural of “penis” is the same as “oasis,” and “crisis,” — i.e., “penes.”

Strange but true. But strange.

As ever,

Pete Jussel

Santa Cruz

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ZIMMER IT!

Editor,

Crawdad Nelson’s recent story, “Squirrel Stew,” AVA, 4/18), brought back fond memories of my Mooney clan’s meat harvesting days in eastern Oklahoma during the middle years of the last century.

The Mooney manifesto was, “never eat store-bought meat,” so we hunted, gathered and rustled critters for our chow.

The small, furtive game on our menu included squirrel, muskrat, rabbit, beaver, woodchuck, raccoon, and opossum. But squirrel, in my opinion, is the most delicious of all small game meats. Chicken fried young squirrel is better than rabbit or chicken, two of my favorite meats.

And squirrel hunting with a .22 is one of the most rewarding of the rifle sports since the wary, “squirrely” rodent is not an easy prey. My weapon of choice, a model 62 Winchester pump, proved inadequate much of the time since the crafty gray and fox squirrels of eastern Oklahoma were mysteriously adept at knowing exactly when you were about to pull the trigger.

Once you scored a bull’s-eye, though, the fun began — gutting, skinning and preparing the carcass for cooking in anticipation of a scrumptious meal.

I still remember my first squirrel, spit roasted over an open fire, which tasted like salted rubber with the texture of shoe leather.

Crawdad’s uncle was right — squirrel has to be “zimmered.”

The Mooney clan’s primo chef, Grandma Mooney from Hoopston, Illinois, had a repertoire of gourmet recipes for wild game that she had perfected over the years — barbecued squirrel, squirrel stroganoff, squirrel braised in sauerkraut, squirrel cobbler, and my favorite, okie squirrel stew.

Here is the recipe for Granma Moonet’s Okie Squirrel Stew. Very slow “zimmering” is the trick. (Serves four):

1 squirrel, drawn and quartered into seven pieces

flour

salt and pepper

three tablespoons butter

8 cups boiling water

1 teaspoon thyme

1 cup fresh corn

1 cup lima beans

three potatoes quartered

1/4 teaspoon cayenne

two onions, sliced

2 cups canned tomatoes with juice

Roll the squirrel pieces in flour, salt and pepper. Brown in butter. Add squirrel and all other ingredients, save the tomatoes, to the boiling water, cover, and simmer for 1.5-2 hours.

Add the tomatoes and continue to simmer another hour.

Serve the stew in soup bowls with cornpone or hush puppies, and wash it down with Uncle Eddie Mooney’s homebrewed poteen (Mooneyshine) made with “Okie taters” — based on a secret clan recipe brought over from County Tyrone, Ireland, by our ancestor, Robert O’Mooney in 1735.

In Mendopia the native western squirrel doesn’t pose any hunting challenges since the obviously stoned rodents routinely commit suicide by throwing themselves under the tires of oncoming vehicles. This is the land of roadkill stew. So when traveling by vehicle in Mendopia always carry an ice chest, a role of butcher paper, a sharp Bowie knife, and a sharp hatchet. You’ll never go hungry. Bon appetite!

Bottoms up!

Joe Don Mooney

Hopland

PS. I’m told that most of the sharpshooters in World War II were squirrel shooters from Oklahoma, Arkansas and Texas.

_______________________________________

A FOUR-YEAR OLD MASON

Editor,

The following is from “In A Sunburned Country” by Bill Bryson:

In the 1950s a friend of Catharine’s moved with her young family into a house next door to a vacant lot. One day a construction crew turned up to build a house on the lot. Catherine’s friend had a four year old daughter who naturally took an interest in all the activity going on next door. She hung around on the margins and eventually the construction workers adopted her as a kind of mascot. They chatted to her and gave her little jobs to do and at the end of the week presented her with a little pay packet containing a shiny new half crown. She took this home to her mother who made all the appropriate cooings of admiration and suggested that they take it to the bank the next morning to deposit in her account. When they went to the bank the teller was equally impressed and asked the little girl how she had come by her pay packet. “I’ve been building a house this week,” she replied proudly. “Goodness!” said the teller, “and will you be building a house next week too?” “I will if we ever get the funking bricks,” answered the little girl.

Robert Jouncewell

Willits

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FIRST MOVE

Editor,

We have a chance to make history — to be the first county in California to let voters say if they want corporate money removed from our elections by ending corporate personhood.

Vermont, New Mexico and Hawaii and numerous cities, like LA, NYC, Fort Bragg and Point Arena, have passed resolutions in favor of an amendment to the US Constitution saying corporations are not people, money is not speech, and regulating money in elections is legal. But they have all been passed by state legislatures and city councils. It is even more powerful to let citizens directly cast their votes on this crucial issue. That’s what we’re aiming to do here in Mendocino County — to put the question before all voters in the November election.

To do this we need to gather 5,000 signatures by the end of May. Will you help? If so, please attend the final meeting for MoveToAMend petition circulators this Saturday, April 28th, at the Fort Bragg Library, from 11:00-12:00. Or contact Carrie Durkee at 937-2554 or cdurkee@mcn.org

Thanks for helping us make history — the first county in the largest state — and thereby significantly undermining Corporate Rule.

Tom Wodetzki

Albion

_______________________________________

PUNOGRAPHICS

Editor,

I changed my iPod’s name to Titanic. It’s syncing now.

When chemists die, they barium.

Jokes about German sausage are the wurst.

I know a guy who’s addicted to brake fluid. He says he can stop any time.

How does Moses make his tea? Hebrews it.

I stayed up all night to see where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.

This girl said she recognized me from the vegetarian club, but I’d never met herbivore.

I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. I just can’t put it down.

I did a theatrical performance about puns. It was a play on words.

They told me I had type-A blood, but it was a Type-O.

PMS jokes aren’t funny; period.

Why were the Indians here first? They had reservations.

We are going on a class trip to the Coca-Cola factory. I hope there’s no pop quiz.

I didn’t like my beard at first. Then it grew on me.

Did you hear about the cross-eyed teacher who lost her job because she couldn’t control her pupils?

When you get a bladder infection urine trouble.

Broken pencils are pointless.

I tried to catch some fog, but I mist.

What do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary? A thesaurus.

England has no kidney bank, but it does have a Liverpool.

I used to be a banker, but then I lost interest.

I dropped out of communism class because of lousy Marx.

All the toilets in New York’s police stations have been stolen. The police have nothing to go on.

I got a job at a bakery because I kneaded dough.

Haunted French pancakes give me the crepes.

Velcro — what a rip off!

A cartoonist was found dead in his home. Details are sketchy

Venison for dinner again? Oh deer!

The earthquake in Washington obviously was the government’s fault.

Be kind to your dentist. He has fillings, too.

Name Withheld

Toronto, Ontario, Canada

_______________________________________

OK, BUT…

Editor,

Just got off the phone with my son-in-law (ex). I told him you printed his remarks relating to my rhyme, Death of Hippie, beneath mine. He was delighted even without a by-line. But I don’t want to take credit for his comments on the punk rock phenomena. He writes better than I do.

John Wester

San Diego

_______________________________________

SAVE THE NAVARRO BRIDGE

Dear Nancy, Bill and Olivia Allen,

Thank you for your letter of April 21 regarding work on the bridge on Philo-Greenwood Road at the Navarro River crossing.

The Anderson Valley Community Services District (CSD) has agreed to hear this matter on its agenda of June 20 at 5:30pm. (Meetings are held at the Anderson Valley Fire House on Highway 128 in Boonville.) Mendocino County Director of Transportation Howard Dashiell will be present along with me to discuss the project.

This bridge rehabilitation/replacement would be financed using Federal Highway Administration funds which are is unfortunately not available for some of the excellent projects you mention in your letter such as the AV Health Center and Hendy Woods.

The Navarro River bridge on Philo-Greenwood Road is 61 years old. 50 years is a typical design life but some of Mendocino County’s 157 bridges are older.

I certainly agree that this is a beautiful structure and the area beneath makes a wonderful swimming hole. Please be assured that we want to do everything possible to preserve the beauty of the bridge and the recreational value it provides.

Please attend the CSD meeting on June 20, hear what Howard has to say, and voice your concerns. This project is still in a preliminary stage with no contract approved yet by the Board of Supervisors. If work on the bridge does go forward, it is scheduled to begin in the spring of 2015.

Best regards,

Dan Hamburg

Supervisor, District 5

Ukiah

_______________________________________

BOOJUM, NOT SAGUARO

AVA,

The Boonville Baja travelers (AVA, April 25, 2012) have confused the saguaro cactus with the boojum tree called in Spanish the ciro. I believe the saguaro appears on Arizona’s auto license plate. There are some saguaros in Baja; they are on the northeast side of the peninsula up near San Felipe but they don’t make it to the Pacific side of Baja California. Both can reach as high as 50 feet and both are remarkable examples of Baja California plant life.

Harold Ericsson

Harbor City

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 LEAVE THE POSTERS UP

Dear Occupiers,

We have postered most of the area but notice people remove them.

Let us know if you see a location that needs one.

Better yet, go to Mendo Litho where we have an account and get more to put up.

Richard Karch

Fort Bragg

_______________________________________

WHERE’S MATSON’S JOURNAL?

Dear AVA:

(Sep. 7, 2011) My name is Dan Shealor and I’m writing to inform the general public of a grievous miscarriage of justice being perpetrated on me.

I was released from prison and parole last December having discharged my number as a two-striker. I was and am actually aware of the necessity of keeping my nose clean, particularly in the area of violence.

I began dating and ultimately moving in with a woman named Gina several months ago. Several months into our relationship, a certain weasel named Garret Matson began insinuating himself into our affairs and Gina’s affections. You may remember Matson’s name in connection with a recent suspicious death — Justice for Katlyn! — and the ensuing murder investigation.

Long story short — said weasel is running a Svengali trip on Gina using illicit chemicals and mind control techniques. He shot a hole into Gina’s car and convinced her to tell the cops it was me. Now here I sit awaiting trial for attempted murder which would mean life in prison for me if convicted. I would ask anyone who has any knowledge of shenanigans committed by Matson to contact my attorney, Bart Kronfeld, 964-6111.

* * *

Dear AVA,

(Sep. 22, 2011) Whenever I read a crime novel or watch a program like CSI, the investigating officers are focused on one thing: evidence. Do we have enough evidence to charge this suspect? Does the evidence we have tie a suspect to the crime?

In the real world? Not even close. All it takes is an accusation from some unbalanced bimbo with a cryptic agenda that I’m not even sure she understands and I’m fighting for my life and spending thousands of dollars to prove my innocence.

Had I known it was this easy to convict someone I would have disposed of all my business and romantic rivals long ago. Not to mention the neighbor who runs his chainsaw at 7am.

The evidence in my case can be summed up as follows: there is what purports to be a bullet hole in the accuser’s vehicle. The accuser claims I put it there.

That’s it. No independent eyewitness, no gun, no sound of a shot, nothing tying me to the scene, no motive.

A month down the road, the only firearm that’s even remotely associated with this case is the unregistered one found in the possession of that traitorous she-hyena, my accuser.

Then there’s the bad actor with 2nd billing in this tawdry melodrama: Garrett Matson. It’s common know-ledge that this “gentleman” stays armed and isn’t shy about brandishing or using his weapons. The community knows he got away with murder once. He is currently being sought for questioning in several violent matters.

These, ladies and gentlemen, are my accusers. The people who hold my future in their hands. A bipolar tweaked out ex-girlfriend who can’t keep her shit together long enough to keep her kids in the house, and a megalomaniacal mama’s boy who bolsters his Napoleon complex with guns and thinks he’s living in a western movie.

There needs to be a system of checks and balances in place to ensure that innocent people cannot fall victim to vindictive — what? There is one?! The what, the Constitution? Oh, I see. We just don’t use it here in Mendocino County.

Justice for Katlyn Long! Justice for Dan Shealor!

* * *

Dear AVA,

(April 27, 2012) I still sit here in the County jail awaiting trial for a crime I did not commit. I’m facing 25 to life if convicted, the best deal the district attorney has offered is 10 years with 85%. There is no physical evidence, no one heard a shot and puke Garrett Matson and his girlfriend have been caught in number of lies, not to mention the unregistered .38 they claim I used “of the same caliber” with an unknown amount of drugs shortly after my arrest. They set me up!

Why? Why would they do such a thing? I’ll tell you why. About five days before they did this to me I came across Garret Matson’s journal. I know it was his because it was in his belongings — ID, credit cards, etc. In that journal he confesses to murdering his girlfriend in May of 2009 (Katlyn Long). Upon my arrest I lost the journal. I believe he got it back — but I read it! And when I read it to Garret Matson over the phone he was furious. The next thing I know I’m arrested on bunk charges that the District Attorney won’t dismiss. Has any investigator talked to me about Katlyn Long? No! They don’t care about her, only protecting Garrett and his tweaked out girlfriend. I’ve done nothing but beg for my life to these tweakers and now I’m not only charged with attempted murder, I’ve got persuading and bribing a witness. What is wrong with this system?

Daniel Shealor

Ukiah

_______________________________________

ONE BUCK, ONE VOTE

Editor,

A petition to put the issue of corporate ‘personhood’ on the Mendocino County November ballot is currently being circulated by volunteers. This issue is fundamental to our retaining fair elections and, therefore, the democratic process. The 2000 election moved an administration with an overarching Big Business agenda into Washington. That administration intentionally changed the balance of justices on the Supreme Court to favor the special interests of corporations. The new make-up of the Supreme Court enabled the passage of the ruling on Citizens United which upheld the misinterpretation of early rulings that corporations are ‘persons’. ‘Corporate protected speech’ now includes unlimited donations to political action groups for political advertising. If you are unfamiliar with the full ramifications of the Citizens United ruling find out here: www.movetoamend.org why it is critical to get the issue on the ballot so that real citizens can make our voices heard.

In a nutshell, what we have now in Washington is representation by Corporate Dollars, rather than by Individual Citizens. The only way to change this situation is to amend the Constitution, which is a process that is estimated to take several years. Dozens of municipalities across the country, city by city, county by county have passed resolutions in support of an amendment.

To help place a MoveToAmend proposition on our county ballot this November, coast residents can contact Carrie Durkee, 937-2554, CDurkee@mcn.org, and inland residents can contact Margaret Koster, 459-5970, MKoster@pacific.net

Rita Crane

Albion

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SHIVA GOES SHOPPING

Editor,

After leaving the O2 internet cafe on Polk Street Thursday afternoon, I went around the Folsom/Howard Street area, visited mostly bars, in which I briefly was just lookin’. I advise not going into the Hole in the Wall on Folsom Street (so dark I couldn’t see where I was walking; designed that way so the customers can see you coming in and you cannot see them at first, so they get to size you up while your eyes are adjusting to the darkness. And then, you find out that you’re in a bar with kinky pervs who only want to drink beer and then do a group golden shower in the restrooms!!!

Left without ordering and went over to Zeitgeist, discovered HofBrau Munich’s Maibock on special for $5/pint. Played all of the jazz & blues on the jukebox, to get some diversity from the rocknroll, was having such a good time I put down five pints and a shot of Johnnie Walker Red Label, and smoked Sherman’s Cigaretello’s. Then, wandered over to Delirium and gave my barmaid friend Genea a kiss. She approved. After eating a burrito somewhere on Mission Street, I went back to Berzerkeley and visited the Crystal Massage Parlour at 11PM. The Chinese masseuse said that she was tired and wanted to go to sleep, but would give me a half hour massage that would be FULLY SATISFYING for $40. We went into one of the massage rooms, and she massaged my back so well, I was too deeply relaxed, plus the after-effects of the drinking, to cum. So, she lifted her blouse and ordered me to massage her breast. I shied away from this at first, but she more aggressively took my hand and put it back on her large stone hard nipple. She smiled down at my naked body, and then stroked my shiva lingam lovingly with a copious amount of body oil. However, after rising to the occasion, I still didn’t fully respond (but did sufficiently so that she let me leave). She threw down a towel onto my pulsating penis, and humorously suggested that it was time for me to go home and get some sleep. We both started laughing. After I got dressed, she warmly squeezed my crotch and with palms upward, asked me for a tip. I plead poverty and gave her $5 more, and she agreed that $45 for only 30 minutes was reasonable.

It was vital that I spent an evening partying until the wheels fell off, to counteract my living indefinitely as though I am being dragged through purgatory. I don’t care if I spent my survival money for the month. I’ll be okay. If the Goddess wants me to have more money, she’ll see that I get it. As you know, I have tremendous faith in Her looking out for Her devotees.

Please understand that my over-the-top effort on Thursday did not elevate me into a permanently higher social/spiritual reality. I am still very much on earth. However, I can mentally relax now, as I actually did something about my idiotic social situation in postmodern America. Besides, I got to kiss Genea at Delirium bar at 16th & Albion in the Mission; hey, I like her, and have liked her since I met her when she co-managed the Crow Bar when it was open on Broadway in North Beach. Most importantly, I feel much better now. Also, I do not have to superbinge out in the future, because Thursday night was a success in many ways, on many levels.

No regrets whatsoever,

Craig Stehr

Oakland

_______________________________________

GOD RESPONDS

Dear Editor:

I read with some amusement Gilbert J. Garcia’s recent Letter to the Editor, entitled “The God Complex.”  His “inside looking out” ramblings were primarily criticisms of how criminal matters are different now that I am directing the prosecution of local matters.

But there’s more to this Mr. Garcia than meets the eye. Mr. Garcia is not just a disgruntled local writing from the Low Gap Hilton; rather, Mr. Garcia hails from San Jose and, candidly, didn’t even buy the bus ticket that brought him to Mendocino County. That ticket was provided courtesy of the California Department of Corrections. You see Mr. Garcia is a convicted felon who was serving his prison time at a fire camp here in Mendocino County on a Strike conviction out of Santa Clara County.

Obviously not realizing how good he had it, Mr. Garcia took it upon himself to try and improve camp conditions by trying to smuggle into camp methamphetamine, vodka, brandy, tobacco, and other contraband dropped off by an accomplice just outside the camp boundaries.

When Mr. Garcia and another inmate stole into the night to retrieve the bounty, they didn’t see the guards waiting and watching in the brush.

Don’t get me wrong. I do appreciate why Mr. Garcia is unhappy — he got caught … again. As of this morning (April 30th), Mr. Garcia waived his right to a jury trial, plead no contest to being a part of a conspiracy to bring controlled substances into a prison facility, and he will be sentenced by the local courts on May 25, 2012 to an additional 16 months in prison to be served consecutive to his San Jose commitment. That’s how we roll these days here in Mendocino County.

C. David Eyster

Mendocino County District Attorney

Ukiah

_______________________________________

MASS OPT-OUT

Editor,

Wondering what to do as the SmartMeter issue hits a critical deadline (May1st?) 50+ cities and counties demanded a free smartmeter-less opt out plan with community opt outs. The California Public Utility Commission(CPUC) simply accepted PG&E’s Opt Out plan. The issue is growing worldwide as Australians and British Colombians complain of equipment damages, fires and health impacts along with many U.S. states (www.emfsafetynetwork.org .) Concerned citizens in Maine and Illinois are suing their utilities, while other states such as Connecticut and Hawaii are not implementing the program. The controversial high initiation fees, the decision to stop allowing rural self reads, and to charge for multiple meters, makes the charges punitive and unfair. Some Californians are abstaining from paying, demanding no extra charge for opting out (www.stopsmartmeters.org .)

Refuse SmartMeters Mendocino recommends that those who recognize the serious health and property right violations protect their family, and do what they feel comfortable with. Either choose to 1) pay the Opt Out initiation fee or 2) protect your meters and join others against this trespass. Many are discovering that the monthly cost is less than the rise in power increases post SmartMeter installation, or figure that the cost of hassling the argumentative utilities, getting satisfaction from a deaf CPUC, or potential impacts on health are worth it. Refuse SmartMeters Mendocino recommends that citizens avoid living with the 24/7 wireless technology that has already damaged many lives and driven folks from their homes and workplaces. Hope for a no charge real option that allows community opt outs is still high and being actively pursued.

Many think that PG&E accepted the Analog meter instead of radio-off SmartMeter into the Opt Out plan in good faith. The truth is it was the combined action of determined mothers who had sick families, anti SM organizations, government representatives, and many letters and complaints from

PG&E customers that forced this crucial part into place. It is a big win but not enough!

The Opt Out proposal has many unresolved concerns. The Utilities and the CPUC ignored the various county resolutions and laws. Neither care about rate payers. The CPUC isn’t representing the tax payers that pay their wages and who expect fair representation and safe regulation. Here are some of the unaddressed concerns: How can an impacted person be protected in high meter density areas like apartments, condominiums or tract housing? How do those with biological (heart brain, insulin) implants protect their wireless sensitive devices (NIH and FCC?) Do impacted or concerned folk really have access to the option? Or is the charge keeping cash strapped rate payers from protecting themselves? The CPUC, by law, is the ultimate authority on these issues until it makes a decision. Any law suit on the issues is forced into CPUC consideration. It is only with the CPUC sanctioned Opt Out that these law suits can go to higher courts. The CPUC left impacted folks in harm’s way as it took years to accumulate information that they then ignored. These folks remain impacted while others litigate a solution. Where is the regulation? Where is safety and concern?

The wireless fields impact sensitive folks. This is called Electro Hypersensitivity (EHS.) EHS leaves victims with heart, cognitive, DNA damage, calcium uptake problems and immune suppression. EHS victims become sensitive to any AC power source. Victims must live in battery powered facilities away from wireless and AC. There is no provision in the US for this now. Worldwide trends show that 50% of the populace in a layered wireless area could have this malady by 2017 (2008 study.) Will victims be able to opt out in the future when they become EHS? As the World Health Organization (WHO) put wireless onto its class 2 Carcinogen category, along with DDT this year, the trend with wireless should be towards precaution and protection.

If you are on the fence, we recommend you immediately contact your utility whether it is gas or electric or both and join the Opt Out. We further recommend you contact your State representatives (Chesbro and Evans) and the CPUC and file a complaint. Send one short letter to all. Protect yourself and your family and be sensitive to victims, who have no other choice but to leave their homes and jobs when the malady strikes them. It is hard to believe that this sort of blanket environmental trespass is occurring in California, the most environmental state in the Union.

Greg Krouse

Refuse SmartMeter Mendocino

Philo, CA www.refusesmartmeters@saber.net

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ONLY NORMAN

Editor,

Why I Am Supporting Norman Solomon For Congress— I learned, after working four years on Capitol Hill for Congressman Wendell Wyatt, that there is tremendous pressure in DC to submit to the general needs and demands of the American imperial political class. The pressures are so strong, that it is easiest for a Congressman just to go along with their dictates However this political leadership is failing to address the most egregious problems in our local communities and across our vast planet. As global warming wracks the environment, economic collapse rocks this country and the US continues to expand its military around the world, it is crucial for our country, the planet and the North Coast to have national political leadership that effectively addresses these pressing problems.

Norman Solomon is the only candidate in the race with the track record on foreign policy and domestic issues that shows he can stand up to this imperial pressure. None of the other major candidates have ever taken the public stands that Norman has against our imperial foreign policy and the attendant wars in places like Iraq. Nor did any of the other candidates take a public stand against the bank bailouts in 2008 or the destructive power of corporate money in politics after the Citizens United decision in 2010. We need a representative in Washington that is clear on his principles and can amplify our North Coast voice on issues that are vital to us and to the future of America and the world.

Twenty-four term Congressman John Conyers, who is the Ranking Minority Member on the House Judiciary Committee, and Congressman Raúl Grijalva, Chair of the Congressional Progressive Caucus, the largest Democratic Caucus in the House, have both endorsed Norman and are anxious to have him join them on the floor of the House to begin moving this country in the right direction. Congressman Mike Honda calls Norman a young Bernie Sanders. Norman has worked with these politicians, he has worked in Washington DC, and he knows how to get things done there.

Remember, among the major candidates in this race, only Norman has a public record of coming out against the Iraq War and the other imperial wars we have waged in the last 50 years. Only Norman is the national co-chair of the Healthcare not Warfare campaign with Congressman John Conyers. Only Norman was active in trying to set up a green economy in Northern California as Co-Chair of the Green New Deal. Only Norman was an early endorser of the Move to Amend to end corporate personhood. Only Norman has been arrested protesting nuclear power, laying on the tracks in front of the military supply trains or protesting corporate power. And, of course, only Norman among the major candidates has refused to take corporate PAC money.

Without that kind of stamina, no other candidates will have the tenacity or priority to stand firm in the face of the pressures of the imperial political class. Others would be okay congressional representatives. But Norman would be an exceptionally good and historically important voice to have in Congress. This is one of the few districts in the country where someone with Norman’s history and politics could ever get elected. It is important to our community, country and the earth that we do not let this opportunity slip away. Please vote for Norman Solomon in the June primary election.

Jim Tarbell

Caspar

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SMOKE & MIRRORS & SMOKE

Editor,

The unanimous decision of the Board of Supervisors to build an asphalt plant along the Willits Grade makes me wonder if the Supervisors were representing their constituencies most affected by their decision — the people who drive the sometimes dangerous section of highway 101 where the asphalt trucks would enter or exit the plant — the biointensive gardeners whose demonstration garden is visited by viewers from near and far — the residents of Sea Biscuit Ranch — the residents of the lovely valley below…

Some questions remain unanswered such as how much water would be extracted from an already damaged water collecting shed, damaged by mountain removal. How much light, noise, and exhaust pollution would affect migratory and resident bird and animal populations. How a huge increase in large truck traffic would affect the stability of the Willits Grade section of Highway 101, an already unstable roadway during periods of heavy rain, built on slippery blue clay. The unanimous rush job of the Supervisors to approve the asphalt permit in spite of local opposition, smacks of greenbacks being the overriding consideration. Would the cost to the county of negligence lawsuits from what seems to be the inevitable result of constructing a flawed traffic plan — increased number of collisions — justify the short term money saving? Is this mega asphalt production to be used for additional road construction to open this rural county to road construction for the convenience of the one percent? Is it advisable to open another toxic industry to provide a few jobs? Remember how arduous and time consuming it was to force Masonite to cease polluting the Ukiah Valley?

These policy considerations were handled in an autocratic, authoritarian manner, failing to elucidate the reasoning underlying the decision of each individual supervisor. Policy decisions such as this deserve a town hall process and possibly a referendum. Better noticing of planning decisions like this one should include the local independent newspapers, KZYX Community Calendar for those of us who do not buy the corporate press or enjoy internet connection.

Occupy.

Dorotheya M Dorman

Redwood Valley

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THE OWL & THE PANTHER

To The Editor

‘The City Council in their Beautiful Pea-Green Boat’

Ukiah City Manager Jane Chambers warned last week that Ukiah faces a $1.8 million deficit for the FY2012-13 budget. This elicited much hand-wringing.

Former mayor Mari Rodin complained that Ukiah City is like an adult who keeps her baby in too-small shoes so the children can’t run. Ukiah Daily Journal Editor K.C. Meadows found Mari Rodin’s concerns incomprehensible and excoriated her at length, suggesting that the City might ease down (in its spending) rather than buying larger baby shoes just now.

Deputy City Manager “Sage” Sangiacomo published yet another iteration of his list of how he intends to spend RDA funds that were borrowed at high interest rates last spring against the future growth of tax revenues. He does not propose to actually pay back these expensive loans any time soon but instead uncoils yet another “ROPS” (Recognized Obligation Payment Schedule). This complex document always manages to confuse and frustrate City Council members who really don’t know “The ROPS.” As an example, when asked why he is holding $250,000 aside to pay the costs of shutting down the RDA machine, Sage “wisely” explained: “The hierarchy of distribution is the county gets paid for administering the program first, then the pass-throughs, then the bondholders and the administrative costs to the successor agency is the final priority if there is any tax increment leftover.”

This wisdom silenced the Council to the point where they never even bothered to question why City Staff needs to spend another $654,500 for something called “Costco Project Management.” Can’t a private sector project manage itself?

Last year’s Grand Jury discovered that Ukiah had budgeted $640,401 to support 18 staff salaries and benefits for the administration of the RDA program. With RDAs now out of business, why have we not heard about a staff reduction plan?

Within this latest ROPS trick are a number of proposed expenditures of bond revenues to promote commercial enterprises. I had naively thought that when Governor Brown kaboshed the RDA program, it meant that we would pay back those costly bonds forthwith and save ourselves the very high interest rates (5.6 to 8.0% over ten years). Apparently, there is little interest in such an idea. Instead, Sangiacomo shows $2,337,212 to be paid by Costco to reimburse the City their acquisition of the land years back with RDA funds. Sage then shows another $2,050,00 in bond money combined with this and all to be used for “development of infrastructure, to improve traffic, drainage and utility services for CostCo.”

Isn’t this $4.3 million merely a form of the corporate welfare that our Governor and state legislature wisely intended to shut down when they terminated the RDA boondoggle? Why in the world do we need to bribe a commercial business like Costco into expanding our unneeded retail marketplace? We’ve already got all the supermarkets, clothing outlets and drug stores one could need.

Mark Scaramella succinctly explained in the AVA last week the mysterious theory of redevelopment: “Public agencies borrow money in anticipation of future tax revenues. This money is then used for private purposes supposedly to increase the borrower’s tax base. The magically broadened tax base supports more commercial programs and allows the public agency to pay back the redevelopment loan. In other words, the proverbial private pig dives face first into the public poke.”

Apparently, City Manager Chambers and her befuddled Council Members are still living in the good old times, and fail to heed warnings of more economic rough water on the horizon as they set out like the sage owl and the CEO pussy cat in their beautiful pea-green boat: “They took some honey and plenty of tax money, all wrapped up in a RDA note.”

James Houle

Redwood Valley

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EVERYONE’S ON BOARD

Dear Editor,

Anyone who has lived here for any length of time knows what a helpful, supportive community we have here in Anderson Valley. On Earth Day, April 22, many of us experienced yet another example of such largess. Thanks to the amazing generosity of Navarro Vineyards and Ted Bennett, Deborah Cahn and family, the Hendy Woods Community raised well over $10,000 to be used in our efforts to keep Hendy Woods open. Many thanks are sent to the following: Sarah Cahn Bennett for having such a great idea, Aaron Cahn-Bennett for tech support and numerous other things, Lemon’s Philo Market/Erica Lemons, Mendocino Cookie Co., Costeaux Bakery, The Apple Farm, Pomo Tierra, Gowan’s Oak Tree, the AV Senior Center, AV Lion’s Club, Judy and Garth Long, AV Winegrowers, Boont Berry Farm, Lauren’s, John Dixon/Glendeven Inn, Pennyroyal Farms, Hotel Rex, San Francisco; Coast Botanical Gardens and Michael Jolliffe, Bob Day and Erica Zissa, Nahara, John Scharffenberger and Audrey Wells, Kirk Wilder, Wax&Bing Pottery, Malcolm West, Greg Gorman, All That Good Stuff, AV Nursery, KZYX&Z, KOZT, Susan McClure, Via Keller, Husch Vineyards, Toulouse Vineyards, Eileen Cunningham, Neva Dyer, Anne Bennett and Sheep Dung Properties, Cory Morse, Heidi Knott, The Pot Shop, Elaine Busse, Judy Nelson, Nancy McLeod, Pearly Basehore and Pearl Handles Graphics, Jean DuVigneaud, Steve Anderson, Rob Giuliani, Anne Duvigneaud, Andy Duvigneaud, Sarah Gretsky, Aaron Sawyer, Mimi Duvigneaud, Xenia King, Linnea Totten, David Ballantine, George Castagnola, Torrey Douglas, Ellen Saxe, Leah Collins, Moss Bittman and Joe Petelle. Special thanks to Margaret Pickens, Monica Landry and Joe Rubin. And, of course, thank you to all the attendees!

I hope we have not inadvertantly forgotten anyone.

Sincerely,

The Hendy Woods Community Board of Directors

Philo

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NPR: THE VOTES ARE IN

Editor,

Can I start a tally on which voices that appear in the AVA support National Public Radio (NPR) content and which critical voices see NPR for the national atrocity that it truly is, a biased and one-sided corporate voice of war and profiteering?

Affirming the fact that NPR is absolutely one-sided and biased are one Helen Redmond, Louis S. Bedrock, Nate Collins (myself) and the mighty editor Bruce Anderson (yourself) for your mutual loathing of one David Brooks and EJ Dionne guests of the Jim Lehr news hour on NPR and of the New York Times and Washington Post respectively.

The lone voice to appear in the AVA in support of the atrocious bribery, cronyism and Jim Crow that NPR represents is the weary voice of Bill Brundage of Kurtistown, Hawaii. After further reading of your contributions Bill, I will wholeheartedly encourage you to continue listening to NPR for the benefit therein, it can be found.

For those who wish to pay stricter attention in honor of throwing off the unlikely oppression of the hippie scourge, or just the general slackness prevalent in this savvy post technical gadget addicted society, all we have to do is listen to who underwrites this propaganda; Insurance, Banking, Oil, Industry, etc. as well as their neo-corporate recipients and lackeys in the form of faux do-gooders such as the Skoll foundation, exposed by David Severn’s latest article, “Go Back Where You Came From, Safely Please”(April 18, 2012).

With David’s permission of course I would like to count David with the votes that NPR content is fundamentally crooked, biased and un-democratic. In question is his encounter with a worker representative of one illustrious billionaire, the Canadian born LA based Jeffrey Skoll. Ironically the stated Vision of his Skoll Foundation is “to live in a sustainable world of peace and prosperity” … some viciously coded language whenever I have ever heard such things voiced by cynical billionaires.

On a different but perhaps similar note; Hey Steve Heilig, quit your incessant whining in the Letters to the Editor section. The Letters to the Editor section is usually reserved for the un-published, and your whining is annoying for people trying to enjoy the paper and give honor to the published writers herein and the quality of their work as well as their typically brief and clever responses. Not a good look for a respectable writer.

Respect same-way to all contributors.

Fear and Loathing (of NPR)

Nate ‘2 times Red’ Collins

Oakland

PS. To Editor Anderson: I’ll be in the upper deck just to the first base side of home-plate for the Giants/Marlins game this Thursday first pitch at 12:45. Maybe I’ll see you there.

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SAVE BLACK BART ROCK

Editor,

Recently, Black Bart Rock, the unique, beautifully imposing triangular boulder that looms large across from the Black Bart Road intersection, has caused quite a stir.

It seems local engineers and advocates of the Harris Quarry Asphalt Expansion Project, have been seen crowded around, measuring and busying about this symbolic cultural resource as of late. This happens to also be the spot where an important highway road widening mitigation is being proposed to offset the danger of a so-called “suicide lane” which would exist if the envisioned maximum 50 massively loaded trucks per hour become a reality.

We have just received word that Black Bart Rock may indeed become a casualty. Placed conspicuously by nature at the top of the highest ridge on Highway 101 from Mexico to Canada, it could succumb to the blasting out and hauling away as dust by a gang of another modern-day era hell bent on paving over a legend.

A little research on the actual documented history of Black Bart reveals he was a somewhat sophisticated gent who relieved stagecoaches of excess funds in Northern California and other places. Records show that on June 14, 1882, Black Bart interrupted the stagecoach journey from what is now Willits on its way to Ukiah. Local lore has it he used the landmark rock across from Black Bart Road as cover. One of the stagecoach occupants was the Postmaster, Hiram Willits. Bart was famous for the trademark hood used during business hours and for poetry he occasionally left at the site of the deed.

In an effort to Save Black Bart Rock, this writer is similarly inspired.

Legend of Black Bart Rock

In eight-two the Willits stage

Was on its Southbound run

White black Bart stood behind his rock

A hooded, shadowed gun

Ukiah’s loot would soon be gone

A legend would unfold

And Black Bart Rock still speaks today

Of Mendocino gold

A hundred years and more have passed

Since Willits stage moved on

But Black Bart’s ghost still rides the trail

Until that rock is gone.

Jack Magné

Willits (www.keepthecode.info)

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WHO’S NEXT?

Dear Editor,

Legal medical marijuana dispensaries all over California have received orders from the U.S. Attorney’s office to go out of business within thirty days or face federal prosecution and asset forfeiture.

As a candidate for US Congress, I have sworn to uphold the Constitutions of the United States and California. I demand that the US Government immediately stop and reverse its unconstitutional assault on the legal medical marijuana industry in California.

The federal assault on California’s legal medical marijuana industry is an attack on the sovereignty of California and Californians. It is clearly intended to destroy a legitimate source of livelihood for thousands of Californians, forcing patients who need medical marijuana to deal with outlaws.

Democratic President Obama recently stated his opposition to ending the prohibition of marijuana. The marijuana industry is a major source of income in Northern California, accounting for an estimated one-third of the total income in Mendocino County.

The federal government is building a police state by crushing legal medical marijuana, terrorizing local officials who try to regulate marijuana, and attacking marijuana growers and providers with an ever-expanding police force.

This ugly world of violence, corruption, economic waste and environmental destruction will grow unless we unite to stand in resistance. If we remain silent in the face of this federal assault on a legitimate California industry, who will they come for next?

John Lewallen

Philo

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SILLY, BUT SMART

Editor,

‘Mimi’ Fine Foolishness — I encourage all to attend “Cocktails with Mimi” at the Grange Friday or Saturday Night. Director Marcus Magdaleno who also directs our AV Teen Drama Group has done a fabulous job of coaching the talented actors of the AV Theater Guild to go over the top and then some with their performance. Having been a puppeteer for many years I have a great fondness for the perfect exaggerated gesture and clowning in general. These guys give this strictly for laughs play all they’ve got. Very, very funny and appropriate for all ages the “cocktails” are not a major player in the plot. This is mainly all about watching crazy people do crazy things. If you like smart with your silly this is your kind of play. The only thing lacking is a Vicar jumping in and out of windows and you won’t even miss him.

Terry Ryder

Boonville

In Buena Vista Park;

Buried with the smack and meth

With candles in the dark;

Vietnam the only trip

That had the people in its grip.

* * *

Organized by the Diggers, residents of Haight-Ashbury marched through the streets in early October, 1967, carrying a coffin to symbolize the “Death of Hippie.” They carried it to Buena Vista Park, the oldest park in San Francisco. The park sits on a hill whose low end is bordered by Haight Street. The Diggers (a name taken from history) were a radical community action group of activists and street theater performers who operated in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco. The protest was against the commercialization of the hippie movement, or the notion that it was a “movement” at all. The Diggers maintained “hippie” was a phenomenon created by the media. The residents wanted the media out of Haight-Ashbury.

* * *

At the time I was living in Mendocino and writing for The Illustrated Paper, a paper published there sporadically from a print shop in Fort Bragg. The editor’s wife, Hillie was a plate maker at the shop which cut the cost of printing way back. The editor, Walter, and I visited Haight-Ashbury several times to talk with the people who put together another underground paper called the Oracle which had offices above Haight Street. Walter was a good graphic artist and wanted to meet the art editor at the Oracle. The first time we went there, a guy was there to see another editor, waiting in the front office with me and Walter. We said hello but he wasn’t in the mood for talking. He wasn’t a hippie, looked straight. He was wearing a hat and sunglasses even though it was dark outside. When we got inside to see the art editor, Gabe Katz, we asked about the guy outside. Gabe told us he was some “nut job named Hunter Thompson who wants to write a book on the Hells Angels and he wants us to introduce him to the San Francisco Chapter”. I was later in a commune with Gabe but that’s another story.

In January of ’67 my wife and I came down from Mendocino in January to attend a festival called the Human Be-in in the panhandle at Golden Gate Park. It was a free event that went from noon until evening. It was organized in an attempt to get the Berkley radicals and the counter culture, represented by Haight-Ashbury, to work together. Speakers included Allen Ginsberg, Jerry Rubin, Timothy Leary, the poet Gary Snyder, and Richard Alpert who later became Baba Ram Das. The comedian Dick Gregory also spoke. I think the Glide Memorial Church’s Cecil Williams was there, too. Rock bands included the Jefferson Airplane, Quicksilver Messenger Service and the Grateful Dead. The underground chemist, Owsley Stanley, provided free LSD called “White Lightning.”

It was a beautiful sunny day. What I took from the event was seeing the San Francisco Chapter of the Hells Angels run some poor bastard through a gauntlet of fists and boots and nobody did anything about it. Probably the right thing to do at the time. Wikipedia, with apparently no irony intended, says that the Angels were kept busy returning lost kids to their parents. The Hells Angels had adopted Haight-Ashbury and “protected” it like they did the Grateful Dead.. They also sold a lot of crank in the Haight. The Human Be-in was a prelude to the Summer of Love and the Death of Hippie capped it off.

* * *

As punk rock music started losing momentum and branching into different factions a lot of the original political stances dissolved as well. Hard-core, Post hard-core, peace punk (stayed very political), crust, Grind-core, pop-punk, skate punk, etc. Lots of different sounding music, but most bands would cite punk rock as their roots or inspiration. There were also regional divisions in look, sound, and style. In the Pacific Northwest a bunch of bands started playing heavier, darker tunes with roots in the 60s and 70s hard rock as well as punk. Before it really blew-up in popularity, magazines were starting to take notice and dubbed this “Seattle” style. One of these bands, Nirvana, got huge, so the media was falling all over itself to come up with a better moniker than “Seattle style.” They came up with GRUNGE. Not that big a deal really. Then grunge bands were popping up all over, adopting the media’s portrayal — unshaven, longish hair, flannel shirts. The “look” became more important than music, and I kept hearing about GRUNGE until that poor junkie Cobain ate a shotgun. I could go on and on about this, but this is what I was thinking about after my Rhyme Alert. Postscript. I wish I could somehow thank the Mainstream Media for romanticizing heroin, I lost a few friends that might never have gone near that nasty shit.

* * *

“And all the hippies moved to Albion and lived…” said the Boonville editor.

The animal is a flathead catfish, the number-one target in a game of unarmed man against fish called “noodling.” In this peculiar sport of the Deep South, barehanded men (and a few women) shove their hands into the lairs of catfish and goad the animals into biting. Catfish lack large teeth, and as a fish clomps down the noodler grabs back, and once he or she has firmly gripped the lower jaw of the fish, it only takes some muscle work to remove it from its hole. But here’s the most controversial part: Noodling takes place in June and July, precisely when large male catfish sit on nests of eggs, aggressively guarding the fertile clumps from predators. The big fish, which may weigh more than 70 pounds but usually go less than 20, will bite at almost anything that meets them at the door to their lairs—whether bass, bird or hand of a hillbilly. If the catfish are kept to be eaten or if the flustered animals fail to return to their nests even if they are released, the future brood is doomed.

Noodling, which may have originated in the pre-Columbian era, began going mainstream about a decade ago when a filmmaker named Bradley Beesley, an Oklahoma native, took an interest in the sport. In 2001, Beesley released an hour-long documentary called Okie Noodling in which he follows a group of noodlers doing their thing—laughing, splashing, screaming expletives as huge cats chomp their hands, and erupting from the water in glorious slow motion with 50-pound flatheads latched to their fists. Beesley was so enthralled by the activity and the surrounding culture that he became a noodler himself in the course of his work. In 2008, Beesley released a sequel to the first film, and just two weeks ago a miniseries called “Mudcats” wrapped up, but viewers can still catch reruns. Or you might also go to Oklahoma for the 13th Okie Noodling Tournament, which arrives on June 23. The event, which Beesley helped launch in part to promote his first film, includes live music and a catfish eating contest.

In an interview last week, Beesley described for me the thrills of noodling.

“It’s the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever done,” Beesley said. It is also, he added, “the fairest way to combat these beasts.” Beesley says the sensation of having a catfish the size of a bulldog bite one’s bare hand is a particularly thrilling one. “It hurts,” Beesley conceded. “It’s painful, like a rat trap with sand paper. The fish start spinning and thrashing. You don’t get any deep cuts, but they turn your hand into hamburger meat.” But many noodlers, Beesley said, choose not to wear gloves to better experience the direct skin-to-fish contact.

Beesley is quick to explain that noodling rarely injures the catfish—except for those that get battered and fried, which may be the majority of the landed cats. Though Beesley says many noodlers let their quarry go (and that the fish go straight back to their nests), other sources, like Texas fishing guide Chad Ferguson, quoted last year in a Texas TribuneHYPERLINK “http://www.texastribune.org/texas-legislature/82nd-legislative-session/theres-more-one-way-to-land-a-catfish-in-texas/” article, seem to believe that most cats caught by noodlers are destined for the kitchen. Most online videos of noodlers at work show the hand-fishers tossing their catfish into boats or clipping them to stringers, and many states prohibit noodling precisely due to uncertainty about the negative effects of removing the largest breeding catfish from a population. Only seven states, it seems, allow noodling, with Texas having legalized the sport just last year.

But killing the largest breeding catfish of a population isn’t the only concern of anti-noodling conservationists, rod-and-reel fishermen and authorities; the other is the common noodler technique of tossing junk, like large pipes and furniture, into lakes to provide catfish with nesting structure and themselves with an advantage in finding the fish when the nesting season comes.

At last year’s noodling tournament in Pauls Valley, which drew more than 10,000 spectators, 183 people participated in the hunt for catfish. Among these competitors, 37 landed fish. The biggest was a 60-pound flathead wrested from its den by Mark Rowan, who took $1,000 for the prize and also won $400 more for having the heaviest stringer of catfish—150 pounds, to be exact. The top female noodler was Brandy Sparks, who caught a 45-pounder, and the winner of the kids’ division was Dakota Garrett, who took a 42-pound flathead.

The blue catfish is another resident of American swamp and slough country, and readers of Mark Twain may remember that Huckleberry Finn and Jim caught a catfish as large as a man. That, without doubt, would have been a blue. Noodlers certainly take blue catfish, though in some states blues, if not necessarily flatheads, are protected from the harassment.

Just how many men, women and children shove their hands into catfish lairs in America is uncertain, though officials in Missouri, where noodling is illegal, estimate that 2,000 people hand-fish for cats. Meanwhile, the game is catching on abroad. In the great rivers of Europe, for instance, hands are appearing at the den doors of the legendary wels catfish, which may weigh as much as a bear and which, like catfish in America, get ornery during nesting season.

Noodling has its risks, and every year newspaper reports tell of noodlers drowned when their hands or feet or heads become stuck below the surface, or when surprise currents drag them into deeper waters. Beesley guesses that in Oklahoma, “one or two” people drown each year while hand-hunting for catfish. But alligators and water moccasins are not the threats that the media sometimes makes them out to be. “That’s been sensationalized,” Beesley said. In his 13 years of documenting noodlers at work in Oklahoma, he once saw a man surface with a non-poisonous snake on his arm, and once with a snapping turtle.

“And there was one guy who was bitten by a beaver,” Beesley said.

Finding catfish is not always easy. It takes knowledge of the swamp and its underwater geography, and it takes some luck, too—and many a noodling excursion becomes, in the end, just a walk in the woods, under cypress and sun, waist deep in the big muddy.

About all I remember about kindergarten — this probably happened during the first week — is getting into a “fight” with a custard-colored Okie kid named Paul Custer who also wore a Davy Crockett coonskin cap. Turned out the storage shed was filled with giant rectangular plywood building blocks that, during recess and if we’d been well-behaved that morning, we boys got to take out and arrange into a fort. Not just any fort, mind you, but the fort: The Alamo of patriotic legend and sentimental song. So you can see why Paul and me had a problem. Since only one of us could earn the right to die heroically like Davy Crockett, we fought to determine which it’d be. While I can’t remember who “won,” I do recall that Paul scratched my face with his long fingernails and me going away with mixed feelings.

My fondest memories are of my first puppy love. She showed up on the first day of school during the 4^th or 5^th Grade and her name was Diana Young. Tall and lanky like me except with milk chocolate eyes, hair and skin (I’ve still got our class picture), even after she crashed her bike, hit her mouth on the handlebars and put a teepee-shaped gap between her two front teeth, still I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Surely she was much too beautiful for a mixed up, tongue-tied, broken-homed wild child like me. Years later at a party I did get to make out with her once. But even then I was too scared to pursue her.

My first girlfriend was a pale-faced freckled redheaded beauty named Sharon Ryder. We started “going steady” in the 6^th Grade. She lived in the canyon bottom on the other side of the fat grassy ridge we kids called Kite Hill. I went over to her house a few times (she never came to mine) and, because Sharon insisted she insisted, I met her mom once. A single sexy young woman with her red hair sculpted into a beehive, she worked as a cocktail waitress down at Dusty’s Bar and Grill on the corner of York Boulevard and Avenue 64. How do I know? Because my “Uncle Al” Overwater, a partner of my dad’s from back when they were boys in our old West Town neighborhood of Chicago, and who was married to my “Aunt Vi” who’d been my mom’s best friend ever since they’d grown up together a few blocks away, worked at Dusty’s as a bartender. A muscle-bound pug with a gentle nature who’d landed in a glider in Normandy the night before D-Day, I can’t remember Al ever speaking a harsh word about anybody or mentioning the war even once. Anyway, one day my dad went down to Dusty’s and bragged to Al about me having myself a freckled-faced, red-headed English girlfriend, and Al wound up putting two and two together. When my dad told me about how Sharon’s mom was a real nice woman who worked with Al down at Dusty’s, he said it like it was just another example of us living in a mighty small world.

Vi and Al had 2 sons, my 2 “big cousins” Wayne, called “Chip,” and Dale, the elder by 2 years. Chip would later blow his brains out with a snub-nose .38 while playing Russian roulette. I shit you not. I was about 10 when it happened and wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral. (Although my big sister did). At the time my dad explained to me that Chip had foolishly decided to play with the pistol, had accidentally dropped it and had blown his head off (there’d be a closed coffin). That’s how it goes when guns are used as toys, my dad had grimly warned me. I remember how mad he was at Al for having been stupid enough to keep a loaded pistol in his nightstand. It was only after I was long back from the war and Al was dead that my dad finally told me what had really happened to Chip — Dale had been there — and how my dad had never been able to forgive Al for it.

To get to Sharon’s house I used to cut over Kite Hill at the top of Church Street. Across the way was a long pedestrian stairway that led down the steepest part of the hillside and connected Sharon’s canyon to mine. At the bottom of the stairs was a grid of three skinny streets flanked by rows of small crowded houses with peaked narrow faces and tiny moustaches of front lawn. Some of the houses were made of stucco and others of clapboard, and they were usually one-story if on the canyon bottom and two if carved into the horseshoe of hills. Sharon’s house was about smack dab in the middle, and I’d arrive at her doorstep right on time.

I’d ring her electric doorbell once, neeyyyiit, and she’d come out, smile, say hi, hand over her cello and then disappear back inside to fetch her books. Yup, my sweetheart Sharon played the cello. Dressed in a form-fitting cloth case with a zipper running from stem to stern, the damned thing was as tall as I was and, after I’d slung its strap over my shoulder, bulky enough to make me walk with a hobble. Yet, Sharon was fun loving, talked a little funny and, even if at times she seemed a little pushy, she did carry her own books.

Garvanza Elementary was just a few blocks down Figueroa and we went through a pedestrian underpass that, when no other kids were in sight, we used for kissing. We liked kissing and soon we started coming to school a little bit early to beat the crowd so we could linger inside the tunnel and maybe get to kiss to our little heart’s content.

I don’t know what exactly I did that got Sharon so steaming and stomping mad, but I suspect I tried to cop a feel. While I was savvy enough to know that all girls had four places on their bodies no boy could ever touch without bringing down the Holy Wrath of God, I didn’t yet know that each place was surrounded by a vast forbidden zone whose boundaries were unmarked and varied from girl to girl. The only way to find a boundary was to cross it, and I suppose that’s what I must have done. No doubt Sharon was scandalized because she furiously ran up the stairs of the underpass with me trailing behind trying to explain myself while lurching under my burden like Quasimodo.

Sharon waited for me on the sidewalk and, the instant I caught up, she tongue-lashed me and demanded her cello back. Maybe because her yelling had caught the attention of some nearby kids, or perhaps just because she’d pissed me off, I un-strapped her cello, lifted it up above my head and, like I was King Kong and it a squirming merchant marine, I hurled it back down the stairs. It never occurred to me to think about how fragile the cello might be, and when it settled on the floor of the tunnel it looked like a bum sleeping under a blanket.
After that Sharon was forbidden to talk to me and, judging by her cold shoulder and upturned nose, I don’t think it put her out none. I can’t recall ever seeing her in junior high, which makes me think she must have moved away that summer. But I do remember that my dad had to buy the Garvanza a brand-new cello and case, and him strapping my ass with his belt and forcing me to do a whole bunch of yard work in order to demonstrate how much he appreciated the embarrassment of having to defend me to my school principal, not to mention him having to fork over all that money.

From Hauling Horses, a work in progress.