Anderson Valley AdvertiserJanuary 7, 2004

I Bombed Judi Bari

by Mike Sweeney, as told to Bruce Anderson

I know people think it's odd that I'm telling you all this Bruce, but at least you listen carefully to what I say. You're wrong, of course, in the conclusions you've drawn, but I appreciate someone, even you, hearing me out. You at least know the territory. My co-conspirators are, as you know, so damn dumb it's a minor miracle I'm still out of jail. I mean really, Bruce, how hard is it to get over on Bruce Haldane and Annie Esposito, and they're the intellectuals of the bunch! Lucky for me I've got a free pass from the feds so even if the nutballs start snitching me off, the Hoovers won't do anything, and they're the cops that count.

So here I am trying to avoid spending the rest of my balancing-act-of-a-life in prison with nobody but idiots and Glenda Anderson, the love of my life, to talk to. Or Glenda and idiots, if you prefer, but I've been with Glen, as I call her, longer than I was with Judi Bari or Cynthia Denenholtz or Meredyth Rinehard. You know why? I buy Glenda new cars and she gets to live in my great big Stanford guy house in the hills on Running Springs Road. Unlike Judi, Glenda knows how to keep her mouth shut.

Yessir, Glen's my best babe yet. She has stood by her man! And Glen's a lot better placed to stand by me, too, being the Ukiah Daily Journal's ace reporter all these years. Glenda gets my recycling press releases printed right on the front page just like they're news stories, and she's kept people like you, Bruce, from even mentioning my name in your occasional diatribes-to-the-editor.

Annie Esposito and The Gnome keep the bombing story off the air at KZYX, Estelle Fennell protects me at KMUD and Dennis "Denny the Weasel" Bernstein faithfully promotes the hagiographic version of Bari-related events at KPFA. The chickenbleeps at the Press Democrat dive under their word processors at the mere mention of my name; no surprise there, right big boy?

Nationally, I've got Amy Goodman at Democracy Now compromised big time. She's rented whole hours of her show to me and the Bari-ites with that Ruby Dee thing that sounds like it was produced in North Korea. You know the one, complete with the sappy muzak droning away in the background, the one that begins, "Judi Bari, defender of the working class." Jesus! Even I was embarrassed. Just when we all thought Stalinism was dead here comes this bullshit. Amazing, ain't it, Grace? It's like critical intelligence has completely disappeared from Northern California!

All of the above are the proverbial dupes come to life. Stone dumb and not a scruple in the bunch of them. But they're all I have. Between you, me and whoever listens in on your phone these days, I'm still kinda dependent on the nutballs who know the truth. Sure, I'm cool with the FBI, but even those morons have their limits. They let me bomb Judi because they didn't like her, and they'd sure as hell let me bomb you because they like you even less, but still I can't go too far, especially with this dim crew of co-conspirators I'm stuck with.

Judi told her girl friends everything about what went down except her role in it, of course, which was just like her. And they've stood by her. Made a lot of money off the deal too from their phony, so-called charity, Redwood Summer Justice Project. But Judi had the bare balled nerve to say I bombed the Santa Rosa hangars by myself. Hah! She carried the wire and the fuses out to the air strip! When the hangar went up and that Jap or whatever he was came running out with his hair on fire we laughed so hard we could hardly stand up to run away! We had the best sex of our lives after that one!

But if Cherney or Karen Pickett or Meredyth or Pam Davis or Commiegore1 or Tanya Brannan start babbling about what they know I'm gone. Of course we'll all go together, but that's scant consolation when you're 58 years old and looking at 50 more years in the pen. How would you like to have your life in Darryl Cherney's mentally unstable hands? That's me, pal. A tough babe like Karen Pickett would never give me up, but Cherney? Pam Davis? Meredyth Rinehard? All it will take is a subpoena and all the fat ladies, including Darryl, will sing whole operas about me.

Imagine having bombed your wife 14 years ago and, just when you think you're in the clear except for the nattering of a few cordoned off fools like you, Bruce, and here comes Kate Coleman then, worse, Susan Faludi, with their book contracts! As soon as their books are out this year there'll be reviews in newspapers and magazines across the country, TV crews camped out in front of my bunker up on Running Hills, everyone in Ukiah looking at me cross-eyed, and every cop in the country following me to work at the Lee Harvey Building at South State and Stevenson.2

The two books are very bad news for me. So long as I could keep the case confined to the Pacifica Network's back wards, I knew I could keep you, Steve Talbot, Jim Martin, Mary Moore, Ed Gehrman, and even Cockburn, cordoned off too. (There's about as much critical intelligence at KZYX, KMUD and KPFA as there is in a gnat's jockstrap. Did I say that already? Well, it can't be said often enough.)

I was safe so long as none of this ever got out of Ecotopia, but it's about to be out big time, and not one penny of the $4.2 million has been paid out to Cherney and me and my two daughters! Worse, there's already all kinds of federal cops back in my business, and I know they're not looking for tips on how to recycle their phone books.

But I'm smarter than all of them and I'm a communist for the FBI. No way I'm going down. You think this is the year that I get my fast pass to federal prison? Let me explain to you why you're wrong.

I'm an old fashioned guy when all is said and bombed, er, done. I'm an American, Judi was a commie. All the tree huggers are commies. Or proto-commies.3 If it weren't for patriots like me these people would be even more out of control! I did what I did for the good of this great country of ours, and don't think for one tick of a timer the Hoovers don't appreciate all I've done for them and for America!

Anyway. You're a parent, right? Look at the situation from a parent's perspective; look at what I had to contend with in 1990. Here I am with a loudmouthed shrew of an ex-wife who's constantly threatening to go to the cops and tell them all about the numerous felonies I committed in my previous life as a Maoist revolutionary. And with her, "If you don't give me all the money from the Redwood Valley house we built together, I'm going to the cops, Mike."

As a matter of historical fact, I did almost all the work on "our" spec house — me and Verge Boulanger, that is. But Judi wanted all the money. No way. All she did was sit on her butt smoking pot while Verge and I worked our butts off out in the sun, pouring concrete, framing the thing, wiring it, plumbing it, too. Then she'd run off with Cherney or some other degenerate druid while I watched the kids! By the way, I didn't have to sub-contract any of the wiring and plumbing on the Humphrey Lane place because, as you know, I knew all about electricity and pipe from the refrigeration courses I took down in San Diego after I dropped out of Stanford for a couple of years to get down with the proletariat at the grassroots skill level. Those classes made me a lot better at pipe bombs, and not only better at the ones you know about. The ones you know about never quite worked right, but...

Watching the kids is what women are supposed to do — that and keeping their mouths shut. Judi could do part one half-assed right some times, but she never could do any part of part two.

She just kept on threatening me, and bad mouthing me to all her man hating friends. Which reminds me of a cute story about Noelle Hanrahan, Tanya Brannan's girl friend, and one of the Redwood Summer Justice Fund scammers. Noelle and Tanya live off the so-called Justice Fund. Tanya even added a room onto her house out of this huge pot of dough — a million plus as of the millennium. Noelle, believe it or not, is also a Stanford grad. (That school has gone all to hell since H. Bruce and I were there back in '68.) And Noelle was, of all things, a member of the Stanford basketball team! The girl's team, I should add for all the non-sports fans reading this. More surprising she was a point guard, if you can visualize a 205-pound linebacker-like female bringing the ball up court. Myself, I'd clear a lane for her straight to the hoop, and so would anybody else in their right minds!

But what people don't know is that Hanrahan almost made it on to the Stanford football team! There was this huge debate among the football faculty. Some of them wanted Noelle for special teams, especially after they saw her size, speed and determination, and doubly especially after she vowed to the coaches, "All I want from you pigs is a chance to hurt men! Let me do just one kick-off so you can see what I can do. I'm telling you, I can bust wedge!" The special teams' guys wanted to give Noelle a try out, but the A.D. pegged her right away as a 5150.

Where were we? O yes. So. So all I wanted to do was to keep 85% of the money from the Humphrey Lane spec house Judi claimed we built together and then recycle enough government grant Coca-Cola cans to get myself a big redwood house in the hills where I could live like a normal Stanford grad! But no. Judi wanted half the money, said she'd had to work on it all day and watch the kids while she kept Verge out of her own pot stash she was selling part-time through the mail to Sonoma County stoners. And she's taking our adorable little girls to play music with a bunch of dope addicts at all hours of the night! Are you finally beginning to understand why I did what I did? Would you let your wife run off with a gnit-gnat mop-top flea hotel Manson look-alike like Cherney with your kids? Of course not. No responsible parent would stand still for that. And I didn't have a CPS option either. If I went to the authorities, such as they are over here in Smiley Face-ville, about Judi Bari's irresponsible parenting, she'd go straight to the cops and tell them all about all the major felonies I've done all the way back to the Bank of America fire in Santa Barbara!

Offing her was my only option.

And she was trying to kill me!

Nope, our marriage couldn't be saved. We'd fallen so far out of love we needed parachutes.

Judi had gotten Pam Davis to talk to Irv Sutley about knocking me off. You know this is true, Bruce, because you and the other busy bodies have the tape from KZYX when Judi admitted on the air she was shopping around for a hit man to hit me. Twice, Pam Davis went to Sutley with an offer from Judi to kill me. Pam told Sutley that Judi would give him $5,000 if he "took care of Mike." On KZYX, Judi laughed it off as a "joke." A joke? Solicitation of murder is a joke? Who's supposed to be amused? Who's laughing?

Incidentally, five thou was typically chintzy of her. $5,000 for a hit man? Sutley would have needed at least twice that to buy himself a reliable car, but Judi was shopping around for a killer like she might find one on Aisle 5 during one of K-Mart's blue light specials! But there she and Davis were on KZYX one afternoon giggling about Judi trying to hire Sutley to whack me! Me! The whacker himself!

Are you keeping track of all the reasons I had for doing her, Bruce? One more time: She knew too much about me. She was taking my children with her while she consorted with Dope Head Darryl and other undesirables. She was trying to get Sutley to kill me. She was getting her name in the paper all the time while I was trying to re-start my life as a normal Stanford-type person. And, she accused me of Michael Jackson-ing our youngest daughter, Jessica!

That one did it. Yes, I've blown up a building or two in my time. Yes, I've set a few fires. Yes, I've tried to overthrow the government by force of arms. Yes, I've been a communist. Yes, I've been a communist snitch for the FBI. But I've never been a pervert!

Nick Wilson is a pervert, not me! Judi told all the young mommies out at Albion that Nick was a perv as soon as she found out he'd molested the Lamb's little girl back in the Ken Parnell-Tree Frog Johnson days when all the habitual sex offenders were dressed up as hippies and "exploring their sexuality" at the Whale School and other countercultural hotspots. Wilson thinks he can un-perv himself if he does my website for freezies. But I'd gladly bomb him and every other hippie weenie wagger on the Northcoast because I love my kids.

I really don't expect to be arrested this year, Bruce. The feds never, ever throw their snitches over the side — look at Mike Koepf — and I've worked for them for years now. For me, my 35-year relationship with the FBI has been perfect. I've been able to blow things up, including the thing called an ex-wife, with impunity. I give the FBI the goods on the whack-off tree huggers, they give me a free bombing every few years. Of course it was me who called the FBI when Judi and Utah Phillips left Ukiah with my bomb patiently ticking away in their car. I was the "anonymous caller" who rang up the FBI to say "A couple of heavyweights from Mendocino County" were on their way south to do something, something, well, something heavy.

Ha-ha, Bruce, you fat bastard. For years you've been saying I'm a typically humorless fanatic. Wrong again, Slim. Using my FBI exemption I bombed Judi Bari! That, comrade, is big time irony!

The FBI lets me do whatever I want. Up to a point. Obviously, I couldn't change my name to Osama bin Sweeney and get away with blowing people up in the middle of major American cities, but so long as I keep on giving the feds names, and so long as I only blow up an ex-wife or a subversive now and then, hell, I won't have any trouble from so-called law enforcement.

Here are a few more reasons why the cops aren't coming after me: Ever see any lights on in the Mendocino County Courthouse after, say, 6pm? Not very often. Once in a while a judge will be "in chambers" with a couple of babes from the clerk's office, but you'll never see anybody in there working late! Never! Why? The DA and his two-step prosecutors are strictly 9-5ers. They don't do cases more complicated than a crankhead at the end of a five-day binge, and they never do cases that require some gray matter. They plead out everything they can, and the few fish left in the barrel they all gather round with automatic weapons and open fire on them.

I'll concede, however, that Vroman is a bit of a wild card. He's good with the media and he's not afraid of it. I was a little worried when you and the rest of your lynch mob went to him in his first term and asked him to come after me. My spies in the Courthouse say ol' Norm was rarin' to go. He wanted to get the subpoenas out right then before the DNA came off the Lord's Avenger Letter I had to write in a big hurry because my darned bomb didn't quite work all the way. That's a confession letter! But Norm's lazy butt assistant DAs didn't want to do it. Now they have my pseudonymous confession and DNA and they still won't do it! They could double reverse slam me at this point: match the known DNA results from the Lord's Avenger Letter I wrote back in 1990 before I was aware that DNA could be used effectively in criminal cases against DNA samples from a dozen likely suspects and the great mystery of the Bari Bombing is case closed! And a whole raft of scammers sinks to the depths of the Pacifica seas!

But no cojones here in Mendoland, and me a communist for the FBI. Home free, Brucie! Eat your micro-mini heart out!

I know this has been difficult for you, Bruce, with your Sesame Street sense of right and wrong, and I know you don't quite understand just how deeply corrupt things are, but for you to go on saying over and over like Mary Poppins, "Well, golly gee, Norm, can't a district attorney subpoena material witnesses to major felonies launched less than a pipe bomb away from the Mendocino County Courthouse?"

Sure he can, but he won't because I've got the big trump card canceling him and any other cow county prosecutor who even thinks about taking me on: I've got the FBI on my side. Better yet, I've got the whole US Department of Justice with me, which is why they threw the case down in Oakland. You and the rest of the fools were surprised when the government didn't protest Bari-Cherney's exclusion of you from the defense's witness list? I wasn't. The fix was in. No way were they going to let any of you "deranged obsessives" get up there on the stand and say that I did it and that the whole Bari-Cherney federal case was a breathtaking fraud on the taxpayers.

Judge Wilken? Her husband is a character named John True. He too was a bomb thrower back in the 60's, and she was a Tony Serra groupie. Wilken used to go watch Tone work when she was a federal public defender. No way she should have heard the Oakland case, but there she was up there in the black robes in between tennis lessons at the Piedmont Country Club!

Judgie's husband? True? He was Chairman Bob Avakian's right (extreme right, as it turned out) hand guy at the Revolutionary Communist Party! Gimme a R! Gimme a C! Gimme a P! What's that spell? RCP! RCP! Sisssssss! Boooooom! Ka-blooey!

Heck, Bruce, my buds at The Bureau tell me your own FBI file goes back to '61. What were you up to?4 That's pretty early to come to the attention of the feds. And how about David Colfax, our 5th District supervisor? He burned a building down, he says, way back. Most of us are pretty sure that Lady Colfax did the actual torching while Lord Colfax hunkered down behind the seat of the get away car. Then as now, she does what she's told, just like my little Glenda. And there's Phil Trounstein; he was in Venceremos with me back at Stanford, but cleaned up and re-invented himself as Governor Gray Davis's Director of Communications! Before that, Trounstein was a columnist for the San Jose Mercury News. Scratch a Dean supporter and there they are, the ghosts of commies past! The point is, we're everywhere, and we're all communists for the FBI. We can do whatever we want!

Mendocino County is teeming with re-entry rads. This area is like some kind of open air Witness Protection Program. Hell, I'm not even the worst of them, but I'm certainly the only one doing major good for $65,000 a year by picking up plastic water bottles in my county job that Supervisor Shoemaker and State Senator Wes Chesbro made for me at Keep Mendocino Beautiful. How much money do you make, chump?

So what's the DA's excuse now for not coming after me? Norm says he's old and he's tired and he's had enough of nutpies to last him all the way to the Hopland Senior Center. He just wants to hang on long enough to bag his pension and retire to the hills and take his phone permanently off the hook.

Do I have to hold a press conference on the Courthouse steps with the whole case made for him and the rest of the slugs hiding out behind their one-way police state windows in the Courthouse basement? They still wouldn't do anything. Neither would so-called law enforcement because the feds cancel them out even if they dared move on me.

I could bomb your fat ass5 from here to Philo and get away with it, Bruce. Especially your fat ass, and don't think it's not a temptation, bro. I'm really tired of you railing away at me week after week, month after month, year after year.

NEXT WEEK: Eliza Devlin; my replica bombs; joint custody of the kids; String Creek; my various co-conspirators...

End Notes:

1. Standard reference to Darlene Commingore, veteran Bari-ite who helps the inner-circle hide donated money in bank accounts maintained by various front groups, including: Earth First!; Bay Area Coalition for Headwaters; Trees Foundation; Judi Bari trust funds; Redwood Summer Justice Project... All of these are phony non-profits organized as charities. The same small group of people dominate all of them, and all of them constitute an ongoing criminal conspiracy as defined by the RICO statutes. Commingore works as an engineer for Caltrans out of Davis, California.

2. The Lee Harvey Building, like the rambling structure in New Orleans famous as the one-time headquarters of the famous assassin, slayer of Camelot, can be entered on both Stevenson and South State Street, Ukiah. Mike Sweeney maintains his Mendocino Solid Waste Management Authority office upstairs from which he enjoys both clear fields of fire and numerous escape exits. MSWMA is the second of two (2) tax-funded Mendocino County garbage agencies.

3. proto, "first in time, earliest, original; at an early or preceding stage of development, primitive." Defined for the staffs of KZYX and the Santa Rosa Press Democrat who otherwise would not understand its meaning, usage or the context it appears in.

4. Mr. Anderson was a starry-eyed young lib-lab at the time, unaware he was associating with radicals. When he became aware in 1963, he joined. His two brothers also have FBI jackets.

5. This unkind reference by Mr. Sweeney to Mr. Anderson's posterior is gratuitously insulting and inaccurate. Mr. Anderson's ass is both smaller and handsomer than Mr. Sweeney's face.

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