*************************************************
 


OK
Today is October 14, 2010.
I rested from writing for two days
to celebrate the rescue of the 33 miners in Chile.
I feel a special affinity with them.
I began writing this book when they became trapped.
My driving employment ended on July 27.
Some of my entries were written in late July,
but they were on various topics.
It was right around August 5, though, that I began
to methodically sit at the computer each day
and write this book.

So, for the 68 or 69 or 70 days
that the miners were trapped in their cave,
I, too, sat in my mancave.
Surrounded by stone and rock and brick and concrete,
safe from the meddling of the world
in my basement I wrote. In silence.
Soon I hooked up my XM radio which I had in the truck.
During breaks I was connected to the news and music of the world
there, alone with my best friend.
I typed out my message of truth to the world.
I am alive.
I am here.
Buried alive by an avalanche of lies.
Left for dead and forgotten
by the shallow liberal fascists who buried me
and the mean-spirited, selfish useful idiot conservatives, their accomplices.
Yet, I live.
Still, I live.
By The Grace Of God, I live.
Therefore, I write.
Now, today, after 2 months and a week,
my friends in Chile have completed their ordeal.

It is time now for me to rise
to rise like a Phoenix from my own ashes and fly,
to soar in Victory, Victory 2010.

Do not forsake me for dead.
Drill down to me.
Read the note here that I am sending to you.
Rescue me. Save me.

The midterm elections near,
but two weeks and five days from today.
Can we stop the babyboomers,
the brats of the oldest childrenation,
jerry brown the clown
and barbara boxer the evil witch.
Hopefully.
We certainly don't need any more
of that angry, frustrated catholic priest
with a sense of entitlement
as great as a white women's libber.
A career politician,
born into the governor's mansion.
He's not royalty.
He's not entitled.
And neither is she,
another career politician,
another brat of the oldest childrenation.

And to Dr. Ravitch I must send my book.
Only to her will I entrust a first reading of the first draft.
Is it an imposition ?
Will she have the time.
I don't know, but if she does I must send it soon
so it will be there for her to read when she can.
The application deadline for the NYU Doctoral Program in Dec 15.
That's another two months.
She said to me in an email that she would be my advisor
if I got into the program.
No one else will do.
My contempt for american educators is infinite,
like the silence in a cave,
like the depths of the universe.
Only Dr. Ravitch has spoken with a clear voice
right down the middle
slapping and scolding the left and the right
for their nonsense and gobbledygood and childishness
for four decades.
No voice compares to hers.
I simply could not tolerate anyone else as an "advisor."
I would have to slap them silly myself,
probably to the point of homicide,
for that is what they all deserve,
not respect, that's for sure.

But Ravitch I can respect,
I do respect.
And my book is like a love letter to her, in parts.
Adoring and gushing with praise at times,
and sometimes the outraged lover,
scolding her for her indiscretions,
and sometimes I will gently and lovingly rebuke her
and beg her to appreciate my wonderful reasoning.

It's a job interview.
My book is a job interview with Dr. Ravitch.
That's it.
That's the ticket right there.
Or maybe with Meg Whitman.
Or Carly.
Pray that they get elected.
Haven't we had enough of those career politicians
boxer n brown ?!

So, I will wrap it up today or tomorrow, I hope.
This first draft.

It seems to me, in my memory, as I think back 2 months,
that I started this writing with
great carefulness
and proceeded through various stages.
In the beginning I carefully crafted a conversation
and went with painstaking detail
through my mother's murder of my father
and attempts to humanize myself
with stories of childhood embarassments and crushes.
In the middle, I remember internally debating myself
whether I should discuss the two movies.
"Why bring them up ?" I asked myself,
"it might make you seem flaky."
But I answered myself that the story had to be a narrative
not only about what certainly happened
but about all the shades of gray,
about the things that certainly were connected
and the things that were significant,
and also about the things that, though improbable
MAY have been connnected,
or at least SEEMED to be connected, to Our Graduate Student.

For it is the story not only of what happened
outside of Our Graduate Student,
but also what happened inside him mentally, psychologically, and emotinally
as career endeavors continued to be dashed,
as they forever marginalized and impoverished him,
as he won time and again but never won
for with each hard won victory they simply changed the bar
or took it away altogether (right, Michele ?).
It is the story of dashed loves and romances
because he was a failure, an anomoly,
and girls don't want that.
And sometimes the failure was internalized.
Often the community would interfere with his loves
and his opponents often succeeded is portraying him
as a womanizer while preventing him from being one,
thus winning double victories.

It is as much a psychological story
as it is merely a tale of dirty politics,
frame and entrapment attempts and unfair prosecutions.
Not only did they interfere with his romances,
they interfered with his family.
They tried to turn his daughter against him.

Just as with his comrades, the Chilean miners,
Our Graduate Student's ordeal was an internal one
as well as a struggle with external events.
Surely great stories and dramas played out
in the minds and hearts and souls of the miners,
and so with Our Graduate Student.
It is the story of Our Graduate Student
living while being persecuted,
but not knowing that he was being persecuted,
indeed trusting his captors like a fool,
like the joke of the party.

So, much of the battle and drama was within.
"Why was his 'luck' so bad ?" he wondered.
"What's the matter with me ?" he asked himself.
Like the ugly duckling who didn't fit in.
The other duck mocked him.
But he wasn't a duck.
He was much more. He was a swan !
Like Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer.
Imagine his self doubt.
Imagine his inner turmoil.
He just wanted to be a reindeer and play with the others.
He tried his very best.
He often excelled at reindeer games,
but they wouldn't let him play.
They never gave him a chance.
"we never gave you a chance,"
said bobbette bush, waddling in her spandex at the basketball games
while her jr. high son had to watch her, his mother, the principal.
Our Graduate Student is the lion brought up among sheep.
The confusion and self-doubt and inner turmoil
until he gazed in the looking glass
and saw that he was a lion.

So the story has been written, first draft.
In later chapters I raced through,
often feeling spent,
abandoning the niceties of the carefully crafted conversation,
often wondering if it sounded rambling.
But, after a while, I didn't have time to review.
Oh sure, after the first couple of chapters
I would look back each day at what I had written before,
but soon there was no time for that.
I had written so much
that merely rereading it would have spent me.
So I simply moved forward each day.
The main structure was chronological, I thought,
so best to take each day as it comes,
and write what thoughts came to my mind.
Perhaps there are much better books I could have written,
unwritten books scribbled in the margins
of my favorite reference texts
or on papers and scraps in hurrried handwriting
often barely legible,
or perhaps books lost for now in ideas and thought streams
now forgotten that came to me as I cooked
or showered or walked the dog.

Indeed, it's been like having a show.
On the air at 11am, talk until 4 or 7 with breaks.
Next day's another show.
Sure, there'll be continuity.
But each day it's a new conversation.

And, indeed, I suppose, that's probably the best way to think of it.
Because, after all, why write the book ?
And to whom am I Writing ?

Well, of course, why write the book !
I have discovered a conspiracy
by U.S. Senator boxer and her ilk !
It looks like I wrote the script for limbaugh
and he's dissed me !
They've ruined my career and personal life
and finances and reputation, and they jailed me !
Isn't that good enough reason to write !?

To whom am I writing ?
Well, of course there are best case scenarios.
It becomes a timeless classic, like Orwell or Kafka.
My audience is all of literate humanity
and even the illiterate masses
as Hollywood and Bollywood make it a Blockbuster.
They'll establish White Man Studies Departments
at harvard and stanford and this writing will be
mandatory reading, womandatory reading, persondatory reading.

Or maybe it will just be my essay to Dr. Ravitch
that will gain me entry to the doctoral program in education history at NYU.
Perhaps, as in her case, this book will become my dissertation.

Or perhaps it will be merely a personal journal
to be stored on disk in a file called "Attic."
Something for my daughter to read
when she retires and has the time.
Something, God willing,
for my grandchildren and great grandchildren
and their descendents to read.

*******

So now it's October 14 and I want to get it done.
If it could nudge Meg Whitman and Carly Fiorina
to election victories in california,
that would be wonderful.

But, whatever, as with my comrades in Chile,
this adventure has run its time.
I wait in line now for my turn to enter the capsule Phoenix.

*******

And so, on with the story.
Our Graduate Student has returned to california.
He has dealt with judge judy with dispatch and encountered limbaugh.
We still have over ten years to go to get to today.
And, what Our Graduate Student has learned
is that the deeper he gets into the telling of a past event
the more he remembers and the more he has to tell and write.
So we will intentionally be brief here.

Selling the house
L.A.
Davis, entrap, frame, prosecute
PA, political refugee from ca

There. In four lines we'll cover it.
We can fill in more details later in further additions
or in appendices or in further volumes.

*******

I only drove truck a little bit before I went to Alaska to teach
so I was still naive about how abusive the trucking industry is.
I felt it was an honest, honorable, and simple way to make a living,
so I worked as a truck driver when I returned to ca.

I was peaking as a singer.
Singing may resemble teaching that way.
It takes a couple of years of learning curve to get really good.
After that you can still improve,
but your motivation might wear off.
It gets boring eventually.
What at first was an exciting, unbelievable thrill,
getting up on stage and winning over audiences
and singing with the best and still winning contests,
eventually become ho hum humdrum monotony.
But when Our Graduate Student returned to ca in the late 90's
he was still peaking
and he used to sing a lot in his trucks
and he jogged a lot and that kept up his wind for singing.
He sang in karaoke venues in Vegas and Nashville
and Phoenix and Tucson, but he found a hangout in Palm Springs, ca.
He had a delivery once in Palm Springs
and he inquired about a karaoke venue
and he was told to go to "karaoke shithead's" (not her real name).
It was a cute little family oriented kind of place
and so is Palm Springs in general, actually.
It was catty corner from a big hotel
and it opened for singing at 4pm.
This was ideal for Our Graduate Student
who was still weak on stage presence (real shy).
So, he'd get there at 4pm and sing for several hours
while the place was often completely empty.
The three advantages of such a situation were
1. The DJ's got to know you well.
2. Only the DJ and the bar tender were there,
so there was no issue of stage fright or stage presence.
3. You got to sing song after song after song...(lots of practice)
Our Graduate Student would sometimes come in from the East Coast
with a Monday morning delivery in L.A.
and stop in Palm Springs (70 miles out or so) on Friday
and sing Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
Eventually the dispatching never took him there anymore
and that's probably because karaoke shithead
or someone in Palm Springs, complained to the company.
Trucking companies are like that.
They're very very very right wing control freaks.
They're very social engineering.
They think it's their business
what a driver does in his/her time off.
And the most trivial, ridiculous complaint by anyone
to the trucking company about a driver
will ALWAYS result in immediate action by the company
to comply with the complainer's request,
no matter who the complainer and what their desire.

But, anyway, karaoke shithead was connected to the conspiracy.
Remember, Our Graduate Student had returned to ca,
to his home in sacramento where it all began in 1982.
He'd just been attacked by his gorilla neighbor
and manipulated into going on the judge judy program.

That was all conspiracy related, both the attack
by the gorilla neighbor which was set up
in their dashed hopes that Our Graduate Student
would get beat up and humiliated,
and the manipulated appearance on judge judy
where the conspirators thought that Our underestimated Graduate Student
would make a fool of himself or display racism
or be unable to accept a Jewish female judge.
Of course Our Graduate Student did not expect to find
conspiracy related harassment in a karaoke venue in Palm Springs,
but then he didn't expect to find it way the hell up there
in Alaska out in the middle of nowhere.
She was a middle-aged, waddling white matron, of course,
the usual suspect,
of the now ambitious oldest childrenation,
with a sense of entitlement almost as wide as her girth.
She used to harass Our Graduate Student in various ways,
but on two particular occasions it was blatant.
One one occasion she got behind the controls
and distorted the sound system so Our Graduate Student sounded bad.
Even the two DJ's apologized to Our Graduate Student for what she did.
On another occasion Our Graduate Student arrived
on a Friday or Saturday night when there was
a Dick Clark talent scout from Burbank looking for talent.
It was quite crowded and
Karaoke shithead had a list of those who could sing,
"loyal regulars" was her excuse,
and Our Graduate Student was excluded.
But it wasn't THAT crowded
and the DJ made sure Our Graduate Student got a chance to sing
at the end of the night.
The talent scout was still there
(maybe tipped off by the DJ to hang around for the REAL talent,
not just the handpicked friends of karaoke shithead).
As I say, who really KNOWS what goes on behind the scenes.
Talent scouts probably encounter that all the time
and know aforehand to be on the lookout
for talent that's being excluded for political reasons.
Eventually, Our Graduate Student made it up to Burbank
to audition and he became a regular at "Dimples"
across the street from NBC Studios
but that's another story.
Right here, I just wanted to include this little vignette
to point out AGAIN the extent of the conspiracy
both in time and in space.
It's lasted a LONG time
and it follows Our Graduate Student wherever he goes
all over the entire country
(and even overseas like when he went to Prague).
There were even inklings that the conspiracy
followed him to "Dimples" in Burbank.
Remember. Though Our Graduate Student didn't know it,
he had tested positive on dna for
the murder of a girl in Alaska (a FALSE positive,
whatever the hell THAT is !).

Selling the house
L.A.
Davis, entrap, frame, prosecute
PA, political refugee from ca

OK, so Our Graduate Student sold the house,
in accordance with judge judy's order
who knew that the blockheaded gorilla racist
would attack him again
(or his racist gang would).

He goes to L.A. and sings and works
and goes to Europe for 6 weeks looking for a girlfriend.
All through this time he was estranged from his daughter
(conspiracy related)

Then Our Graduate Student drive his
pickup with the cabover camper that he lived in in Alaska
back up to davis, ca where he got his B.A. (10 miles from sacramento)

*******

Davis, entrap, frame, prosecute

Now, believe it or not, in the year 2000,
when Our Graduate Student returned from 6 weeks in Europe
and returned to davis, ca,
he still didn't think that anything worthy of the word "conspiracy"
was aligned against him.
Of course, he wasn't clueless.
After all, he'd never gotten a teaching job
despite the fact that there was ALWAYS a critical shortage
of math and science teachers and he was highly qualified.
He knew he was being blacklisted,
he just didn't know the extent and the specifics.
He figured it was because he was back in sacramento,
and that was because of his daughter
who by this time was stationed nearby at Travis AFB
and had renewed an even closer relationship to Our Graduate Student,
thanks to The Air Force.
He figured that if he went somewhere else
he could get a teaching job,
and he even quite seriously looked into teaching overseas.
And he did try several times to find teaching work in ca,
down in Visalia, north of sacramento and west of sacramento.
He didn't get hired, and he blew it off to the blacklisting.
I guess you could call that a conspiracy
and that had been going on since he got his credentials in 1987.
It was what happened over the next 7 years
that raised it to new, much more serious, and frightening levels
that deserve nothing less than the label "conspiracy"
and that have made Our Graduate Student
an actual, literal political refugee from california.

Our Graduate Student did actually get a summer school
teaching job in 2003,
but that was because a cocky "gunslinger" young vice principal
hired him before waiting to get all the scuttlebutt.
Summer schools seem to have to fish around desperately
for qualified teachers.
So, as soon as Our Graduate Student saw the ad,
he called, and the return call was almost immediate,
and he was hired immediately and started right away.
THEN, in less than a week, the vice principal who hired him
suddently wouldn't have anything to do with him
and was incredibly rude to him at the two Friday afternoon
happy hours at the bowling alley that he went to.
So the blacklisting was still in effect,
but on that rare occasion, Our Graduate Student slipped through
when the hotshot wasn't looking.

Here's a little vignette about the mentality
of those education nitwits at the university of the pacific
traffic and education stamping school.
I think this happened before Our Graduate Student
went to Alaska, when he was driving a truck
up and down Interstate 5.
He saw an ad for probably a math/science teacher
at Beverly Hills High School
and he got an interview and was able to get there.
He wasn't hired, and sometime later,
when he stopped by the traffic and education department
at the univ of the pacific
the tall, skinny bigshot there made some sarcastic remark
about how "you can't START at places like that !"
Yeah. He's one of the most qualified math teachers available,
but the univ of pacific traffic school
closed the gates to that school
(and there was another high-powered school near Cal Tech
that contacted him too),
but they sent him off to the slum school at edison hs in stockton
to get physically attacked in a hostile environment.
And, those little punks didn't need him there anyway.
They were a bunch of sophomores
taking fifth grade arithmetic for the umpteenth time.

So, Our Graduate Student sacrificed getting a teaching job
for the sake of living near his daughter at Travis AFB.
After all, he'd been screwed out of
a normal family life with her (conspiracy related)
by being driven out of ca to Alaska
and having his ex being coached by the feminists
to renege of the split physical custody.

But Our Graduate Student,
despite all this,
STILL figured that this was America
and that he would be safe to live in it
despite political differences.
He'd never murdered or raped anybody.
He'd never robbed a bank.
He never walked into a bank lobby in carmichel in suburban sacrmento
with a loaded shotgun and murdered a lady making church deposits
with a loaded shotgun that he brought into the bank
and pointed at the church lady
and then had the loaded shotguy accidentally go off
and murder the church lady.
He never did that either.
So limbaugh's raisin' hell on the airwaves
and all the copycats in the right wing noise machine
are changin' the entire political culture of America
and the entire media culture,
and the guy who started it all with His 1982 Newsletters,
Our Graduate Student,
is livin' hand to mouth in an old camper on a beat up old pickup truck
on the outskirts of davis ca.
You'd think they'd go after bigger fish to fry !?
He figured they'd just leave him alone.

Now pay attention to this.
The fact that the liberal fascists have been HELL BENT
on destroying Our Graduate Student
IS TESTIMONY TO THE FACT
that they think he's worth the trouble.
In other words, in their eyes,
Our Graduate Student IS a big fish.
One of those old years-plus matrons
said as much to him one day in that Carl's Jr in davis
where Our Graduate Student met his old friend, dean Richard Haro.
She was laughing at his dilapidated old camper and said,
"and you're the one who started it all."
In other words, only the liberal fascists
RESPECT Our Graduate Student !
I told you they were clever !
She was mocking him because he was living in poverty,
marginalized and impoverished,
and limbaugh and the other conservative old white men
had let it happen.

But still, Our Graduate Student
thought that they would just leave him alone,
satisfied that he had been brought so low,
so he could just live and see his daughter sometimes.
But it was not so.
Let's see if I can get this done tonight.

*******

OK, so Our Graduate Student basically lived
in and around davis,ca
from 2000 through 2006,
another 6-year stint, just like in Alaska.
Some of it was spent driving over-the-road,
and some of it was spent living on a farm in Walnut Grove,
about 20 miles South of sacramento, on the sacramento river.
For a while (a year or two ?) he lived out of his car,
and he spend quite a few months at
a One-Stop Career Center in woodland, ca
about 10 miles north of davis.
One Stop Career Centers were statewide,
and they provided in one building
a variety of social services, hence "One Stop."
One of those services was to provide job seekers
with a room with many computers for job search
and other job search assistance.
They were basically the same,
but the atmosphere varied depending on the location.
There was one in San Diego where
Our Graduate Student went a few times
that was run by Gestapo employees.
Our Graduate Student was on a computer
and got on the website of a potential employer
and the roving attendant looked over his shoulder
and told him he couldn't be on that web site.
The only thing they could do there was apply for jobs.
He was applying for a job, explained Our Graduate Student.
Learning about potential employers was part of the process.
In fact, I think he was actually preparing for an interview,
an phone interview, and was therefore learning about the employer.
But the attendant was rude, aggressive, bossy, and insistent.
It flared almost to an argument.
The attendant threatened to escort him to
the director of the one-stop center to "see about it."
I won't tell you more. You couldn't handle it.

But woodland was different.
It felt like a mexican white female trash Mayberry.
Of course, as usual, Our Graduate Student
experienced the typical unwarranted hostility,
but it was a government service
so they had to pretend to treat everybody the same.
Our Graduate Student actually liked it there at first.
For the last three months of 2003
he came in every day at opening and stayed til closing.
Free telephone use, free printing,
and unlimited computer and internet use.
It was that summer, 2003, when he did his summer school teaching.
He taught math and he focused on the state budget
to make it interesting, and it was,
to him.
It was a real eye opener to learn about the size of the budget
and where all the money went.

As the "throw the bum out" Recall frenzy increased,
Our Graduate Student got more interested.
He had followed the story of how
the electricity rates had doubled and tripled
over the past year or two and he KNEW that something was wrong
and that the government had to be incompetent or corrupt.
He wasn't sophisticated about finance
but he knew that the costs of energy and labor hadn't tripled
or even moved much at all for that matter.
How could the cost of electricity have tripled overnight ?
It was bringing california to its knees.
How could governor davis not have looked into it.
It turned out to be an enron scam
and why it took so long for everybody to figure out,
I don't know.
But in 2003 the citizen activism was infectious.

And then there was the internet.
Our Graduate Student became one of the original bloggers.
He used the computers at the One Stop in woodland
all day long, every day, September through December into January, 2004.
Though originally somewhat skeptical of schwarzenegger's candidacy,
the more schwarzenegger was ridiculed,
the more Our Graduate Student supported him.

But, more important,
Our Graduate Student was inspired to use the 2003 Recall Election
and this new activity called blogging
as a platform to present his case
as the author of His 1982 Newsletters at sac state
and their place as the script for the limbaugh program,
and how he was blacklisted by the liberals because of it
and dissed by the right -
two groups of radical, fanatical, unethical jerks.

He jumped in.
He used the computers to keep informed
and to build his log.
After the election,
he spent a week with The Sacramento Bee as "Dr. Risk."
He went to a few political events
and thought maybe he was making progress,
and maybe he was.
schwarzenegger's first year was kind of ridiculous
and schwarzenegger behaved silly a lot,
dressing up almost like a clown in bright yellow suits,
and pulling lots of hollywood stunts.
Our Graduate Student felt that it would be better
to be a respected motley fool than a simpleton sycophant,
so he lovingly offered schwarzenegger some constructive criticism.
He was invited to a few events, but nothing happened.

In 2006 he went to Nevada to drive a truck for the mines,
because he couldn't get a driving job in california.
When he went into their personnel office
the girl told him that they couldn't "pull" his driving record.
That meant that they couldn't get a copy electronically
which was the normal procedure.
Our Graduate Student just shrugged and said,
"Well, here's a hard copy I just got from DMV in california."
She gave him a funny look.
They hired him.
He wouldn't know it until a few months later,
but Our Graduate Student had a felony warrant out on him
since January, I think,
and they knew it up in Nevada
and they were playing cat and mouse with him for some reason.
They knew why they couldn't pull his record
but they wouldn't tell him.
They hired him though.
They probably couldn't have done it without approval.
Who knows ?
Sharper people than me probably could tell me,
people in the know.
Maybe a good investigative reporter teamed up with
a high-powered, savvy newspaper could tell me.
The Sacramento Bee could have told me
but they were in bed with the liberal fascists of sacramento
and schwarzenegger and his liberal kennedy wife
and he was clay in the hands of the sacramento feminists,
barbara boxer and the conspiracy.
It was jan scully, the sacramento county district attorney
who issued the warrant and prosecuted
Our Graduate Student as fugitive felon.
That's the same jan scully who wouldn't prosecute
the sla sistuh mary jane olson,
that wonderful human being who was in a school play
in minne suh oh tah.
That's what the sacramento bee gushed about her.
How many times have I told you ?
mary jane olson sla sistuh soliah
walked into a carmichael bank near sacramento
with a loaded shotgun
as part of a conspiracy to commit a robbery
and in the commission of such robbery
she shot and killed a woman making deposits
for her church group.
The facts were not in question.
She admitted it, I think,
and there were witnesses, and videos,
or all of the above.
Her excuse was that the shotgun went off "accidentally."
So jan scully had to have her god-damned filthy fucking catholic teeth
pulled and twisted before the fucking #### would prosecute mary jane,
her sla feminist sistuh.
You see,
that's the very reason she wouldn't prosecute the murderer,
because the sacramento feminists considered mary jane
to be "one of them."
barbara boxer and mayor anne rudin and a host of others
were mary jane olson sla soliah's sistuhs,
and so better be jan scully, the sacramento district attorney.

Now this might be a helpful vignette.
Right before schwarzenegger got elected,
he pulled a media stunt by going to memorial auditorium in sacramento
and announcing his plans for his "first 100 days."
Our Graduate Student received an email inviting him,
but when he arrived at the table to pick up his ticket,
according to procedure,
his name was not on the list,
but jan scully's was.
So, apparently, that's the kind of psychological warfare
these political advisors, these advisorbrats play.
They invite you,
but when you get there, there's no admission ticket for you.
"Scully. Dave Scully."
"I'm sorry. Your name's not on the list. We have a jan scully."
At the time Our Graduate Student
was certain that it was a mistake,
but now he feels quite certain that it was no mistake it all.
It was psychological warfare from the advisorbrats,
the 20- 30- something "political professionals."
They were fucking with Our Graduate Student,
putting their middle finger up.
But at the time, Our fair playing, straight shooting
Graduate Student insisted that it was a mistake, and gained entry.
"So I guess jan scully is a Republican then,
since she got invited," reasoned Our Graduate Student.
Of course, he actually sent jan a collegial, family email after that.
After all, they were both scullys, had that scully face,
both went to catholic school and Our Graduate Student
even had a year of law school too.
They had so much in common.
Little did Our Graduate Student know, though,
that he had one thing jan scully didn't have.
He had a false positive dna hit, whatever the hell THAT is,
for the murder of a girl in Alaska.

Did Our Graduate Student, the felony fugitive, commit the crime.
I'll let my readers decide.
I don't even know what the law is regarding the matter.
If it has anything to do with "intent,"
then Our Graduate Student is innocent.
But there's no doubt that he screwed up the paperwork.
He doesn't deny THAT.
But he didn't think it really mattered,
and it shouldn't have.
It was all half in fun, anyway, becoming a candidate for Governor,
just like the other 120 or so candidates.
But they played "gotcha" with Our Graduate Student."
Considering how hard they'd been trying and for so long,
it's amazing they didn't get Our Graduate Student
on some technicality a long time before.
It's almost good in a way
because when you see how trivial was the offense
and how draconian was the response,
it's clear that this was a blatant political prosecution,
and very, very likely when you get some more background,
very connected to the conspiracy.

Here's how it went.
Normally, in california and probably everywhere,
it's very hard to become an official candidate
for statewide office like Governor.
That's why there's usually only a handful of candidates on the ballot.
In california, you have to be the candidate
of an officially recognized party, and there are only a handful of them,
or you have to get hundreds of thousands of signatures.
But, for the 2003 Recall Election,
you only needed 65 valid signatures and $1,500
to become an official candidate for Governor and on the ballot.
Now, Our Graduate Student was a political junkie that year
and was very involved in the election, and was an original blogger.
He was very politically active and felt that his case
was very important politically.
He was blacklisted from teaching
because of His 1982 Newsletters which were political
(they appear to be the limbaugh script).
His case exemplified the corruption of education
by the liberal fascist educators.
Our Graduate Student wanted to get his name on the ballot,
but he couldn't afford the $1,500.
Of course, he had no delusions of winning,
but he WAS a player, and he wanted to be recognized.
He was following all the politics closely,
and as a result he learned that he could become
a WRITE IN CANDIDATE
just by collecting the 65 valid signatures.
No fee was required.
If you registered that way as a write in candidate
any votes for you would be officially tabulated.
If you didn't, any write in votes for you wouldn't be counted.
It was a way to become an official candidate and receive a vote
without expending the $1,500 that he didn't have anyway.
Of course it would have been better to be on the ballot,
but oh well.

Now it was a joke on the Jay Leno show.
This was NOT a serious matter.
There were about 120 official candidates for Governor on the ballot,
and Jay Leno had them all in his audience one night
and had them all stand at once
and state their platforms at the same time. HA HA.
Of course, any candidate who happened to be in show biz
got a special close up.
So this was not what you would call a serious matter.
So, Our Graduate Student joined in
and spent many an hour outside Wal Mart and Home Depot
trying to collect signatures.
It wasn't as easy as he thought.
He used to sell raffle tickets for The Little League
and that was easy.
He used to sell newspapers on the corner
of South Orange Ave and Sanford Ave
and they went pretty fast.
But he wasn't getting very many signatures outside Wal Mart.
Maybe it was just signature fatigue or politics fatigue.
Maybe people were just worn out. Who knows ?
And he had no idea which signatures were valid or not.
Some were illegible.
Then he started hiring people to help him.
That was a common practice.
He offered half the going price, 50 cents per signature,
instead of a dollar.
But he forgot to separate the signatures by party.
One of his signature gatherers suggested using the phone book,
and Our Graduate Student wondered whether she did that.
Another street person he hired was a young fellow
who HATED Republicans.
Our Graduate Student was concerned about the reliability
of that boy's collected signatures.
Finally, after he realized that he had botched the collection process
and wasted his time and money,
Our Graduate Student toyed with the phone book idea, himself.
He did a few pages that way and then decided it was bad idea.
Finally the deadline approached
and he STILL didn't understand what they meant by
"65 to 100 signatures."
Didn't they know how many signatures they wanted ?
If 65 was enough, why would anybody bother to collect 100 ?
So he just brought everything he had down to
the sacrmento county election office and submitted it.
They'd only take 100 signatures.
THAT's what they meant by "65 to 100 signatures !"
They'd only accept 100, and out of those 100
65 had to be valid.
Our Graduate Student stood there with maybe 400 or more signatures
all mixed up by party, almost all collected by unreliable street people.
He didn't have time to do it over.
He really can't even remember how many he got her to accept
or what party he ran as.
He robosigned the back of each signature sheet on the bottom.
None of the signature-collectors signed their sheets
like they were supposed to, and he had overlooked it.
So he just robosigned them all.
He just wanted one vote to make it official
that he was part of that historic process
that he was already a part of.
A month or so later he checked the status
and they told him he didn't have enough valid signatures.
It was a disappointment but it didn't really matter.
It was half done just for fun, anyway.

Two and a half years later,
Our Graduate Student went into the winnemucca, NV
sheriff's deprtment to report that he had just been attacked.
They asked for his ID and came back in a moment
and asked him to stand up, turn around and put his hands
behind his back.
He was under arrest as a felony fugitive.

At the foot of his bunk was nothing to read
except a copy of "The Diary of Anne Frank."
For those of you who don't know,
that's the story of a nice family
that was destroyed by a nazi fuehrer
like schwarenegger was at the time (unable to do wrong)
After 3 or 4 days, during mealtime
the guards looked at Our Graduate Student
and said to one another,
"I thought I'd seen it all,
but this is the first time I ever had
the Secret Service come up and intervene."
Finally, on the 5th day,
Our Graduate Student's daughter
drove up from Travis AFB and sprang him.
They spent the night together
and then drove back to the state line.
Our Graduate Student was reluctant to cross into ca
and stayed a few more days.
He sat alone in the hot tub in a 24 Hour Fitness
and fellow joined in and started talking German.
Quite a coincidence, don't you think ?
I'd have to check my blogs that I wrote back then
to see if he said anything that tipped his hand but,
did he really have to ?

So, back in sacramento, Our Graduate Student's public defender
assured him that he was defninitely going to prison.
This, of course, made Our Graduate Student
(and probably every defendant)
wonder just who the hell the public defender was working for.
When the public defender made some remark about
"knowing who buttered his bread" or something like that,
that kind of made it clear who he DID work for.
The county of course,
all the way in a chain of command up to the governor, probably.
Our Graduate Student thought it was absolutely
outrageous and ridiculous
and that any jury would see right through it
as a blatant political prosecution,
and acquit him.

After all, consider Proposition 77.
That was a statewide proposition
that was sponsored by conservative Republicans,
probably in schwarzenegger's first year.
They drew up the proposition
and collected hundreds of thousands of signatures
throughout the state, as required.
Then, AFTER collecting the signatures,
they materially changed the proposition
BEFORE submitting the proposition and the signatures
to the ca secretary of state.
The courts declared that the changes were material.
I blogged about it at the time with all the hyperlinks.
Now THAT was felony fraud !
Collecting hundreds of thousands of signatures
for ONE proposition, then materially changing the proposition
and submitting those same signatures
for the new, changed proposition !
THAT's material fraud.
THAT's felony fraud.
Those people had political experience and money and lawyers.
They knew what they were doing.
Our Graduate Student was an unemployed blogger
working out of the back of his camper
engaging in a whimsical side venture to get one official vote
as a souvenir.
By the same logic I suppose you should
prosecute the Chilean miner
who took some rocks from the hole as souvenirs
to give to The President and loved ones.

So Our Graduate student took things into his own hands
and blogged his predicament
and emailed to The Sacramento Bee
and maybe a politician or a judge or two.
We can't remember now.
We'll have to go back and check the emails of the time.
Then suddenly they brought the charges down to a misdemeanor.
Our Graduate Student thought it over.
He still thought he'd win
because it was a blatant political prosecution.
But the public defender told tales of horror.
"The jury will be full of retired state workers.
They'll hate you."
Fight a felony or accept a misdemeanor ?
Losing a felony would be a disaster.
What if the public defender is right.
Why take the chance when I can get it over with and done ?
So Our Graduate Student pled guilty to the misdemeanor
and washed police cars for six months on weekends.
Lots of people told him that he was a fool,
that he should have checked into jail
and that he'd be out after a weekend, like Lindsay Lohan,
because they needed the room for real criminals,
but he'd have none of it.
Check into a jail in jan scully's county,
in schwarzenegger's and boxer's state ?
He might never come out !
They could reward some thug for picking a fight with him.
They could keep extending his time forever like that. No.
In January, 2007,
Our Graduate Student fled california.
Do you hear me ?
He FLED california.
Let me clarify.
Our Graduate Student FLED california for political reasons.
Our Graduate Student FLED california because he reasonably believed
that that he was in danger of imprisonment or physical injury
just for staying there.
That's the very defninition of a political refugee.
So, I'm so sorry if this causes you some cognitive dissonance,
if this shows the lie to your myth.
Here I sit in Pennsylvania
having fled california for fear of imprisonment or injury
for purely political reasons.
I am a political refugee,
a homemade, homegrown political refugee.
Deal with your cognitive dissonance.
Deal with your precious mythologies.
You did it to me. Now undo it.

Enough for tonight.
Never before in the past two and a half months
have I stayed up so late writing.
I don't wish to rant and ramble, so I will sleep.
I have set an artificial deadline
and I wish to be done by tomorrow.

Tomorrow I plan to give two vignettes,
the dogfood feminist from davis
and the chair kicking matrol at One Stop woodland.

Then I will expound on two pillars of the conspiracy,
the fraud entrapment attempt by elizabeth ruport,
yolo county education administrator,
and the fraud frame attempt by U.S. Senator (former I pray)
barbara boxer

Those two incidents were shockingly BLATANT.
They are 100% connected to the conspiracy.
Indeed, they, along with the schwarzenegger persecution,
are the very foundation of the discovery of the conspiracy.
ruport's fraud entrapment attempt
and boxer's fraud frame attempt have no reasonable explanation
other than an attempt to "get me."
I caught them red-handed, as they say.
Maybe I didn't videotape them,
but I saw and heard what happened
and I'm telling it to you.
What they did made no sense
except when seen in light of a conspiracy to get me.

Like Keith Oberman of MSNBC says,
"If it's true, you're not paranoid,"
and it's true.

So, I will conclude this book tomorrow, I hope,
two more of the three pillars of the conspiracy.
One has been presented today, though not chronologically.
The schwarzenegger prosecution occured last.
It just came up first while writing, that's all.

That's the way I discovered it in real life.
I've lived it and endured it and suffered from it
for 28 years,
but it is so shocking and unbelievable
that only in recent years has it become clear to me.
It is only when I consider these 3 recent events
and some other events
that make sense only when you take the perspective
that "they're out to get me."
I cannot deny it any longer.
I can't close my eyes or pretend it's not happening
in our own backyard.
Perhaps now it is time.
They have gone so far that they have exposed it.
This is the truth.
Until tomorrow, then.


PA, political refugee from ca

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