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Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2003 From: Larry Bosveld Subject: Dalt Shooting Spree ,

Johnny Boxcar wrote:

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Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2003 22:47:09 -0400 (EDT)
From: Johnny Boxcar
Subject: San Francisco Shooting Spree Leaves 4 Dead,
To: kd5mpm@…

San Francisco Shooting Spree Leaves 4 Dead, 1
Clinging to Life
Monday, June 30, 2003 By Imran Vittachi and Monte
Morin Los Angeles Times
A shooting spree that left four dead and one
critically wounded at a San Francisco residential
hotel was apparently triggered when a victim
bumped into the gunman by accident, police and
witnesses said Sunday.

Gunman John Bravard, 53, who fellow residents
described as short tempered and intense, opened
fire in the lobby of the Dalt Hotel Saturday
evening, just hours after he quarreled with
another resident at the hotel’s elevator. After
the shooting, Bravard walked to his fourth floor
room, locked the door and turned the gun on
himself, police said.

On Sunday, the sole surviving victim of the
shooting clung to life in San Francisco General
Hospital’s intensive care unit. If Joseph Garcia,
46, does survive his injuries, he will likely
suffer paralysis from the waist down, according
to his wife Shakoentela Garcia, 40.

Garcia, a desk clerk at the residential hotel,
described a scene of terror as Bravard barged
into the lobby of the Tenderloin District hotel
around 5 p.m. and unloaded a semiautomatic pistol
at a group of hotel residents sitting around the
reception desk. Three male tenants died in the
shooting.

Speaking through tears in a hospital waiting room
Sunday, Garcia said she was working the hotel’s
front desk the day before when she heard what she
thought were firecrackers exploding outside the
hotel on Turk Street. She now believes it was the
sound of Bravard “testing his gun” before
entering.

Garcia said she walked to the front door of the
hotel to investigate as Bravard rushed in,
carrying a Chinese take-out box in one hand and
bumping her in the shoulder. Garcia said she
didn’t see a gun then, but spun around when she
heard shooting behind her and saw a “guy
standing up with all these shots in his face.”

Panicked, Garcia ran from the lobby. The man who
had been shot in the face followed after her,
lurched across a parking lot, threw open the door
to another nearby hotel and collapsed on a desk
in the lobby.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said
Melissa Dubin, an employee of the Hotel
Metropolis, where the dying man fled. “He could
barely walk when he collapsed onto the desk. He
was pretty much gone,” she said.

Garcia, whose 6-year-old son was with her at the
hotel’s front desk at the time of the shooting,
returned and saw her husband sitting in a chair
with bullet wounds on his neck. Another man sat
slumped in a chair as well.

A third man was found dead on the pavement
outside the hotel.

Police are withholding the identities of the
three dead, pending notification of relatives.

Authorities and residents of the Dalt Hotel say
the shooting may have stemmed from a
confrontation Bravard had with one of his victims
earlier in the day. The men had bumped into each
other at the hotel’s elevator, and Bravard
shouted a derogatory term at the man. The two
then began arguing.

An employee at a local video store, Bravard was
described as a large man and loner who
intimidated other guests with his quick temper
and gruff demeanor.

“He was an antisocial guy,” said Terry Wilson,
a Dalt Hotel employee. “He didn’t talk to
anybody. He could snap at anytime.”

At the Dalt Hotel Sunday, a small shrine of
flowers and candles stood in the hotel’s lobby,
as well wishers hugged Shakoentela Garcia in the
hospital’s waiting room.

“Joe is a great guy,” said Michael Phillips, a
friend of Garcia’s husband. “He just caught a
stray bullet.”

From: Johnny Boxcar
Subject: Dalt Shooting Spree
To: kd5mpm@…

Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2003 22:58:34 -0400 (EDT)
From: Johnny Boxcar
Subject: Dalt Shooting Spree
To: kd5mpm@…

Killer of 3 was known for temper
He usually kept away from others at Tenderloin
hotel
Harriet Chiang, Chronicle Staff Writer
Monday, June 30, 2003

Scott Thomas always considered the Dalt Hotel in
San Francisco’s Tenderloin district a haven in a
rough neighborhood, the kind of place where
tenants would watch out for each other.

But that sense of security was shattered late
Saturday afternoon when John Bravard, who had
lived at the Dalt for 14 years, gunned down three
fellow tenants and critically wounded a fourth.

The 5 p.m. shootings happened after Bravard had
gotten into an argument with a fellow tenant,
Paul Howard, for bumping into him. Dalt manager
Ruth Clarke said it wasn’t unusual for Bravard to
jostle another person as he went by, just to see
how they would react.

“You could at least say ‘Excuse me,’ ” a resident
said Howard told Bravard.

Several hours later, Bravard, who police say had
a history of mental illness, came back armed and
began shooting.

He gunned down Louis Williams from the street as
Williams stood in the entrance of the lobby.
Bravard then entered and shot Howard, Joseph
Garcia and Carlin Satterwhite, all tenants.

Garcia, whose wife is a desk clerk at the hotel,
was with his 6-year-old son at the time. A
nursing supervisor at San Francisco General
Hospital said Sunday that he was in critical
condition.

Bravard later went to his fourth-floor room and
fatally shot himself.

On Sunday, the door to his room was covered with
a piece of plywood. The blood in the lobby had
been washed away. The only sign of what had
happened was in the lobby, where there were three
lit candles with the names of each of the
victims.

“This is a very close community,” said Thomas as
he sat in the hotel lobby, a popular place for
people to gather and gossip. Most of the tenants
are disabled or senior citizens.

But everyone tried to steer clear of Bravard, 53,
said to be a moody figure with a hair-trigger
temper.

Residents say he was a Vietnam veteran who
generally kept to himself, wearing his headphones
and carrying his bicycle as he headed for a video
store on Market, where he would spend most of his
time.

Clarke said he could be very generous and had a
25-year-old son in the military of whom he was
proud. “But he had a very dark side,” she said.
He used to brag to her that he was “trained in
hand-to-hand combat.”

“He had kind of an attitude,” she said. But she
said that she didn’t evict him because he paid
his rent on time and generally stayed away from
people. “I knew not to mess with him,” Clarke
said.

Howard, 54, was the night clerk at the Hotel
Vincent, which Clarke also manages. He was always
buying her gifts — vases, jewelry boxes and
stuffed animals. He kept things in order and was
strict with the rules, which ticked off some of
the tenants who tried to sneak people into their
rooms.

“The good tenants loved him,” Clarke said. “The
bad ones probably have mixed feelings.” Although
Howard was openly gay, she doesn’t think that’s
what prompted Bravard to shoot him. “He was just
a sweet man.”

John Landas, who has lived at the Dalt Hotel for
10 years, said victim Satterwhite had been
knocked down by Bravard about six months ago for
no apparent reason. Landas said he and another
tenant had reported Bravard to the police, but
Bravard wasn’t arrested.

Satterwhite was a large, gentle man from Georgia
who received regular packages from his mother.
“He didn’t have a mean bone in his body,” Landas
said.

Williams, who liked to hang out with Howard,
never had any run-ins with Bravard, according to
Clarke. After spending years battling drugs and
alcohol, Williams was finally starting to get his
act together, tenants say, working as a cook at
Glide Memorial Church.

Thomas said every Thursday night Williams would
bring him a big batch of fried chicken. And he
had just spent $300 on clothes for a trip to Reno
today.

Tenants say they weren’t surprised when they
heard what Bravard had done.

“He was a disaster waiting to happen,” Thomas
said.

E-mail Harriet Chiang at hchiang@….

______________________________________________________________________
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See more posts from John Bernay
Harriet Chiang, Chronicle Staff Writer
Monday, June 30, 2003

Scott Thomas always considered the Dalt Hotel in
San Francisco’s Tenderloin district a haven in a
rough neighborhood, the kind of place where
tenants would watch out for each other.

But that sense of security was shattered late
Saturday afternoon when John Bravard, who had
lived at the Dalt for 14 years, gunned down three
fellow tenants and critically wounded a fourth.

The 5 p.m. shootings happened after Bravard had
gotten into an argument with a fellow tenant,
Paul Howard, for bumping into him. Dalt manager
Ruth Clarke said it wasn’t unusual for Bravard to
jostle another person as he went by, just to see
how they would react.

“You could at least say ‘Excuse me,’ ” a resident
said Howard told Bravard.

Several hours later, Bravard, who police say had
a history of mental illness, came back armed and
began shooting.

He gunned down Louis Williams from the street as
Williams stood in the entrance of the lobby.
Bravard then entered and shot Howard, Joseph
Garcia and Carlin Satterwhite, all tenants.

Garcia, whose wife is a desk clerk at the hotel,
was with his 6-year-old son at the time. A
nursing supervisor at San Francisco General
Hospital said Sunday that he was in critical
condition.

Bravard later went to his fourth-floor room and
fatally shot himself.

On Sunday, the door to his room was covered with
a piece of plywood. The blood in the lobby had
been washed away. The only sign of what had
happened was in the lobby, where there were three
lit candles with the names of each of the
victims.

“This is a very close community,” said Thomas as
he sat in the hotel lobby, a popular place for
people to gather and gossip. Most of the tenants
are disabled or senior citizens.

But everyone tried to steer clear of Bravard, 53,
said to be a moody figure with a hair-trigger
temper.

Residents say he was a Vietnam veteran who
generally kept to himself, wearing his headphones
and carrying his bicycle as he headed for a video
store on Market, where he would spend most of his
time.

Clarke said he could be very generous and had a
25-year-old son in the military of whom he was
proud. “But he had a very dark side,” she said.
He used to brag to her that he was “trained in
hand-to-hand combat.”

“He had kind of an attitude,” she said. But she
said that she didn’t evict him because he paid
his rent on time and generally stayed away from
people. “I knew not to mess with him,” Clarke
said.

Howard, 54, was the night clerk at the Hotel
Vincent, which Clarke also manages. He was always
buying her gifts — vases, jewelry boxes and
stuffed animals. He kept things in order and was
strict with the rules, which ticked off some of
the tenants who tried to sneak people into their
rooms.

“The good tenants loved him,” Clarke said. “The
bad ones probably have mixed feelings.” Although
Howard was openly gay, she doesn’t think that’s
what prompted Bravard to shoot him. “He was just
a sweet man.”

John Landas, who has lived at the Dalt Hotel for
10 years, said victim Satterwhite had been
knocked down by Bravard about six months ago for
no apparent reason. Landas said he and another
tenant had reported Bravard to the police, but
Bravard wasn’t arrested.

Satterwhite was a large, gentle man from Georgia
who received regular packages from his mother.
“He didn’t have a mean bone in his body,” Landas
said.

Williams, who liked to hang out with Howard,
never had any run-ins with Bravard, according to
Clarke. After spending years battling drugs and
alcohol, Williams was finally starting to get his
act together, tenants say, working as a cook at
Glide Memorial Church.

Thomas said every Thursday night Williams would
bring him a big batch of fried chicken. And he
had just spent $300 on clothes for a trip to Reno
today.

Tenants say they weren’t surprised when they
heard what Bravard had done.

“He was a disaster waiting to happen,” Thomas
said.

E-mail Harriet Chiang at hchiang@….

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Posted by on October 3, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

Mexican (XE) amateur radio permits for foreigners Mexican flag

Mexican (XE) amateur radio permits for foreigners

http://xe-permit.wd9ewk.net/
Updated 14 September 2018
WARNING!
Since 2014, the Mexican regulator IFT (sometimes called IFETEL) has not issued permits to foreign radio amateurs. This even applies to USA amateurs, who had been covered by an agreement between the US FCC and the Mexican Communications/Transport Ministry (SCT). At this point, the only legal way for a foreign ham to operate from Mexican territory would be to operate from a Mexican ham’s station, using that ham’s call sign.

All information below, along with the links from this page, explain the process when the regulator was still CoFeTel. If or when a new process for these permits becomes available, I will update these pages to reflect the new process.
Background information
For many years, the process that a foreign amateur radio operator must go through to get a permit to operate in Mexico was very difficult. Sometimes, impossible. At other times, the process was very different depending where you were in Mexico. Things are a little better now, but still not perfect. Lots of paperwork, money, and patience are needed. The ability to speak and understand Spanish, or a friend (ham or non-ham) who can translate Spanish, is also a good thing to have.

Throughout these pages, I will refer to the two organizations involved with this process by their Spanish-language acronyms. Those two are:

Comision Federal de Telecomunicaciones (Federal Telecommunications Commission, or CoFeTel) – similar to the USA’s FCC, the Mexican government entity that issues amateur-radio licenses and permits
Secretaria de Comunicaciones y Transportes (Secretariat of Communications and Transport, or SCT) – until the mid-1990s, the Mexican government entity that issued amateur-radio licenses and permits. Now, SCT acts as the “branch offices” for CoFeTel outside Mexico City for paperwork and other transactions

DISCLAIMER! I am not a lawyer, a Mexican national, nor a Mexican citizen. My information is based on 10 years’ experience with my own permits, and comments/suggestions from other amateur operators inside and outside Mexico related to this process. These processes may be changed at any time without advance notice, and some locations may choose to operate under different procedures. I have no control over any of that. Anyone using this information does so at their own risk.
Process to apply for the XE amateur permit
The process I outline below in the numbered links below is what I use when applying for my permits, and should be similar for much of Mexico:

Paperwork required for the permit
Where to file the paperwork
How to file the paperwork
How much is the fee – and where do I pay it?
Operating in Mexico with the XE permit

If you are in southern California, and wish to file the paperwork for the XE permit in Tijuana, Baja California (across the border from San Diego CA), the process in Tijuana may be different than in much of Mexico. And thanks to Christian DL6KAC, you can see another different process foreigners can go through for a Mexican ham permit in Mexico City. Other information

Mexican ham-radio regulations (PDF documents in Spanish, with link to English-language summary)
Mexico’s states/territories and amateur call areas
Want to use UHF radios without a license or permit in Mexico?
Free Translation web site
Comision Federal de Telecomunicaciones (Federal Telecommunications Commission, or CoFeTel)
Information regarding amateur radio in Mexico (in Spanish)
Information for obtaining a permit in Mexico (in Spanish)
Secretaria de Comunicaciones y Transportes (Secretariat of Communications and Transport, or SCT)
Locations where the permit applications can be filed in Mexico, outside of Mexico City (in Spanish)
Federacion Mexicana de Radioexperimentadores (FMRE) – Mexico’s national organization for amateur radio (in Spanish)

WD9EWK/VA7EWK

 
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Posted by on October 3, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

The Scion of a Good Family-who is Edward l. Bernays?

Who is Edward L. Bernays?
Content

Who is Edward L. Bernays?
EDWARD L. BERNAYS – The Father of Public Relations
(1891 – 1995)
Edward Bernays is regarded by many as the “father of public relations,” although some people believe that title properly belongs to some other early PR practitioner, such as Ivy Lee.
Born in Vienna, Bernays was both a blood nephew and a nephew-in-law to Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, and Bernays`s public relations efforts helped popularize Freud`s theories in the United States. Bernays also pioneered the PR industry`s use of psychology and other social sciences to design its public persuasion campaigns. The early days of Bernays`s career are spent as a Broadway press agent, which eventually brings him together with leaders of the arts and entertainment communities including notables Enrico Caruso, Florenz Ziegfeld and Nijinsky.
One of Bernays`s favorite techniques for engineering of consent was the indirect use of “third party authorities” to plead for his clients` causes. In order to promote sales of bacon, for example, he conducted a survey of physicians and reported their recommendation that people eat hearty breakfasts. He sent the results of the survey to 5,000 physicians, along with publicity touting bacon and eggs as a hearty breakfast.
Bernays`s clients included President Calvin Coolidge, Procter & Gamble, CBS, the American Tobacco Company, General Electric, Dodge Motors, and the fluoridationists of the Public Health Service. Bernays`s early successes enable him to build a clientele. By 1931, the fast-growing business bills nearly $100,000 ($1.15 million in 1995 dollars) with profits exceeding $60,000 (more than $700,000 in 1995 dollars).
Bernays defined the profession of “public relations counsel” as a “practicing social scientist” whose “competence is like that of the industrial engineer, the management engineer, or the investment counselor in their respective fields.” To assist clients, PR counselors used “understanding of the behavioral sciences and applying them—sociology, social psychology, anthropology, history, etc.” In Propaganda, his most important book, Bernays argued that the scientific manipulation of public opinion was necessary to overcome chaos and conflict in society:
In his autobiography, titled “Biography of an Idea”, Bernays recalls a dinner at his home in 1933 where Karl von Weigand, foreign correspondent of the Hearst newspapers, an old hand at interpreting Europe and just returned from Germany, was telling us about Goebbels and his propaganda plans to consolidate Nazi power. Bernays spent many years trying to have the vocation of public relations licensed, elevating it, in his words, “to the level of a profession.” The bill he introduced to establish registration and licensing in 1992, when Bernays was 100, did not pass, yet the controversy over licensing continues. In his letter to colleagues, where he urged PR practitioners to review his proposed bill, he asked for the readers` conclusions, be they positive or negative. These suggestions were to help him in drafting another bill he would present in the hope it would pass. Bernays died before he could continue his campaign.
Bernays is held in high regard by some and thoroughly despised by others even today, and was even named as one of the 100 most influential people of all time. It is impossible to fundamentally grasp the social, political, economic and cultural developments of the past 100 years without some understanding of Bernays and his professional heirs in the public relations industry. PR is a 20th century phenomenon, and Bernays–widely eulogized as the “father of public relations” at the time of his death in 1995–played a major role in defining the industry`s philosophy and methods.
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Posted by on December 1, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Claiming Others Are Not Credible Is Not Credible

Claiming Others Are Not Credible Is Not Credible
May 3, 2017 http://tomremington.com

Mainly because saying someone is not credible without proving they are incredible points the finger right back at the one making the claim of non credibility. Thus the claim for example that the Tom Remington web site is not credible has been proven to be a non credible claim.. By of course alleged friends of our past.. Friends who were not friends at all.. Because any type of information that is contrary of and not embedded in your core beliefs does not mean the people sharing the information are deserving of a claim of non credibility.. Thus the false claim makes the claimant a liar with no credibility.. Guess what geniuses… Most core beliefs are not credible.. Are in fact incredible.. Such as people signing private contracts that were for all people of a society, how silly that one is.. And another, that all people of a society own all of the forests as shareholders… Both fairy tales are right up there with the tooth fairy and rabbits laying eggs and other childish nonsense..

So if you claim I am not credible, The Remington Website is not credible, and you fail to support that with evidence, you then are making an incredible statement. A lie.

credible (adj.) Look up credible at Dictionary.com“believable,” late 14c., from Latin credibilis “worthy to be believed,” from credere (see credo). Related: Credibly.credibility (n.) Look up credibility at Dictionary.com1590s, from Medieval Latin credibilitas, from Latin credibilis (see credible). Credibility gap is 1966, American English, in reference to official statements about the Vietnam War.incredible (adj.) Look up incredible at Dictionary.comearly 15c., “unbelievable, surpassing belief as to what is possible,” from Latin incredibilis “not to be believed, extraordinary,” from in- “not” (see in- (1)) + credibilis “worthy of belief” (see credible). Used c. 1400 in a now-extinct sense of “unbelieving, incredulous.” Related: Incredibly; incredibility

Then we have the word believe, or belief..

believe (v.) Look up believe at Dictionary.comOld English belyfan “to believe,” earlier geleafa (Mercian), gelefa (Northumbrian), gelyfan (West Saxon) “believe,” from Proto-Germanic *ga-laubjan “to believe,” perhaps literally “hold dear, love” (source also of Old Saxon gilobian “believe,” Dutch geloven, Old High German gilouben, German glauben), ultimately a compound based on PIE *leubh- “to care, desire, love” (see belief).

Spelling beleeve is common till 17c.; then altered, perhaps by influence of relieve, etc. To believe on instead of in was more common in 16c. but now is a peculiarity of theology; believe of also sometimes was used in 17c. Related: Believed (formerly occasionally beleft); believing. Expression believe it or not attested by 1874; Robert Ripley’s newspaper cartoon of the same name is from 1918. Emphatic you better believe attested from 1854.

belief (n.) Look up belief at Dictionary.comlate 12c., bileave, “confidence reposed in a person or thing; faith in a religion,” replacing Old English geleafa “belief, faith,” from West Germanic *ga-laubon “to hold dear, esteem, trust” (source also of Old Saxon gilobo, Middle Dutch gelove, Old High German giloubo, German Glaube), from *galaub- “dear, esteemed,” from intensive prefix *ga- + PIE root *leubh- “to care, desire, like, love” (see love (v.)). The prefix was altered on analogy of the verb believe. The distinction of the final consonant from that of believe developed 15c.

The be-, which is not a natural prefix of nouns, was prefixed on the analogy of the vb. (where it is naturally an intensive) …. [OED]

Meaning “conviction of the truth of a proposition or alleged fact without knowledge” is by 1530s; it is also “sometimes used to include the absolute conviction or certainty which accompanies knowledge” [Century Dictionary]. From c. 1200 as “a creed, essential doctrines of a religion or church, things held to be true as a matter of religious doctrine;” the general sense of “That which is believed” is by 1714. Related: Beliefs.

Belief meant “trust in God,” while faith meant “loyalty to a person based on promise or duty” (a sense preserved in keep one’s faith, in good (or bad) faith, and in common usage of faithful, faithless, which contain no notion of divinity). But faith, as cognate of Latin fides, took on the religious sense beginning in 14c. translations, and belief had by 16c. become limited to “mental acceptance of something as true,” from the religious use in the sense of “things held to be true as a matter of religious doctrine.”

Knowledge;

knowledge (n.) Look up knowledge at Dictionary.comearly 12c., cnawlece “acknowledgment of a superior, honor, worship;” for first element see know (v.). The second element is obscure, perhaps from Scandinavian and cognate with the -lock “action, process,” found in wedlock.

From late 14c. as “capacity for knowing, understanding; familiarity;” also “fact or condition of knowing, awareness of a fact;” also “news, notice, information; learning; organized body of facts or teachings.” Sense of “sexual intercourse” is from c. 1400. Middle English also had a verb form, knoulechen “acknowledge” (c. 1200), later “find out about; recognize,” and “to have sexual intercourse with” (c. 1300); compare acknowledge.

Here’s one I like;

con (v.2) Look up con at Dictionary.com“to swindle,” 1896, from con (adj.). Related: Conned; conning.

Swindled into false core beliefs..

Here’s some terms that come to mind;

coward (n.) Look up coward at Dictionary.commid-13c., from Old French coart “coward” (no longer the usual word in French, which has now in this sense poltron, from Italian, and lâche), from coe “tail,” from Latin coda, popular dialect variant of cauda “tail,” which is of uncertain origin + -ard, an agent noun suffix denoting one that carries on some action or possesses some quality, with derogatory connotation (see -ard).

The word probably reflects an animal metaphoric sense still found in expressions like turning tail and tail between legs. Coart was the name of the hare in Old French versions of “Reynard the Fox.” Italian codardo, Spanish cobarde are from French.

The identification of coward & bully has gone so far in the popular consciousness that persons & acts in which no trace of fear is to be found are often called coward(ly) merely because advantage has been taken of superior strength or position …. [Fowler]

As a surname (attested from 1255) it represents Old English cuhyrde “cow-herd.” Farmer has coward’s castle “a pulpit,” “Because a clergyman may deliver himself therefrom without fear of contradiction or argument.”cowardice (n.) Look up cowardice at Dictionary.comc. 1300, from Old French coardise (13c.), from coard, coart (see coward) + noun suffix -ise.

Cowardice, as distinguished from panic, is almost always simply a lack of ability to suspend the functioning of the imagination. [Ernest Hemingway, “Men at War,” 1942]

cowardly (adj.) Look up cowardly at Dictionary.com1550s, from coward + -ly (1). The adverb (late 14c.) is much older than the adjective:

Yit had I levir do what I may Than here to dye thus cowerdelye [“Le Morte d’Arthur,” c. 1450]

An Old English word for “cowardly” was earg, which also meant “slothful.” Related: Cowardliness.

“Descriptive Knowledge” says this: “The difference between knowledge and beliefs is as follows:. A belief is an internal thought or memory which exists in one’s mind. Most people accept that for a belief to be knowledge it must be, at least, true and justified.”

I don’t know about that subject and I don’t want to know about that subject and behind your back I’m going to claim you have  no credibility..

THE WORD, BELIEVE
The word “believe” has an ancient etymology, and is derived from the Sanskrit.
It is a portmanteau, a combination of two short words; “bel” and “eve”. It has gone through countless variations through time, and “bal” and eva” are two of the earliest.
When one examines the concepts these words were used for conceptually, we find that this is a dialectical portmanteau, with a tension of the opposites extant in it’s meaning.
“Bel”: has to do with jejune, rebellion, angst and “belligerence”, “bellum” “Bal” {an evil entity}, “ballistic” and a long nomenclature of similar conceptualizations put into a descriptive word.
“Eve”: has to do with nurture, nature, empathy, compassion, love, and understanding, equilibrium… also a lengthily nomenclature.
The original conjunction actually expressed an error of thinking, which comes back to us in more modern times in the form of “True Believer”, irrational certainty, fanaticism, and again associated with ‘bellum’ or war, and destruction.
This is why I make an attempt not to use the words ‘believe’, and ‘belief’ when self referencing. I like to use the term I “think” or “it is my opinion”. Or, “beyond reasonable doubt”, when making a strong judgment of my opinion.
[If I do use the term self descriptively, I mean it in the very soft and vague popular sense]
Belief is best defined in terms of “faith”, of believing without the need of proofs, as is demanded of many of the major organized religions. And this is where the word again takes on its original connotations, of erroneous thinking.

There is nothing wrong with not believing anything someone says or writes. Thats intelligent. I don’t believe anything people say or write. While being a guy that collects and reads several books I simply point out some things in my read searching, particularly in the International law category that is factual. yet still I advise others to go read it for themselves.

The legalese says what it says and your governments actions validating those terms speaks volumes.. So in my read searching I’ve discovered many people saying things and writing things, although very articulate and well thought out are quite wrong concerning the legal aspect of those various issues.. Especially involving land ownership of not only private but also public lands.. And of course the myth that “We Are the People” referred to in a certain contractual agreement signed by a few men..

Who did that for themselves and their Posterity not your great great grandaddy’s posterity leading down to you, or myself.. I believe we ALL should be good read searchers thus seeking out whether certain things we would like to believe or perhaps have believed in for most of our lives turn out to be true or myth.. Especially in the question of defining legal terms connected to international compacts constitutions contracts private agreements because that is what those legal instruments are. And those legal instruments represent the signatories and their Posterity period..

“Merely putting a word in the form of a derogatory phrase creates in the mind of the listener the impression of something unsavory. People who care about the truth are mere “truthers,” after all. Tenth amendment supporters are “tenthers.” Those who prepare for the future are “preppers.” Want to demonize someone who does good things? Call them a do-gooder!
Language is the great tool of the tyrants. It always has been, and always will be. Patriots are expected to abide by a PATRIOT Act that destroys their Bill of Rights, support “surgical strikes” against “enemy combatants” by the Department of “Defense,” and cheer the award of the Nobel Peace Prize to those who wage war.
Our language has been weaponized against us.”~James Corbett

Ad homenim such as they are not credible is not an argument, it is an admission of ignorance. When done behind their backs it is an admission of cowardice..

For the majority of the right versus left masses there is apparently no solution to the false core beliefs condition..

 
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Posted by on May 4, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Fungus From Outer Space

Fungus in my Big Toes transmits my thoughts by radio wave to a television set..there the aliens Transmit voices into the brain that only the victim can hear.

I have heard them since the “Comet of the Century”, Kohoutek came to pass over the Arkansas State Psychiatric Colony… Consequently, in the late spring of 1973, Comet Kohoutek carried fungus from outer space which affected the Water at Haskill, Arkansas, and We Schizophrenics got Fungal Foot and Mind Disease kinda like Hoof and Mouff in Cattle.

I have had thoughts from 1,000,000,000~9th. power Light Years away streaming in live Audio since 1973. They do not scare me or cause psychosis.

Here I have a YouTube Channel dedicated to my Space Radio thoughts…https://youtu.be/fiF2YyiIZkY

I rather have become accustomed to my Space Radio broadcasts, https://youtu.be/oy1N3ntOoNc

Chapter 14 – Stanford Earth Sciences
https://pangea.stanford.edu/courses/gp025/sites/default/files/Chapter_14_0.pdf
The fingual aliens of my youth were green. I think this came ..from a meteoroid..(fungus germ cells that have half a set), but the cells in your big toe are a lot different from the cells in your television set,

 
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Posted by on March 17, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

`Boxcar Killer’ convicted in Kansas

‘ Tourette’s’

‘ Tourette’s’ (Anywhere but)you, HA SCH O PHRE NIA ‘ Tourette’s’ (Anywhere but)
i am 13 word salad.The sheep languished blue trains suffer
Windows books dogs hands run
Run desk making dinner sunglasses menu
Folders pile swimming red clouds
Sadness cups coffee printer power outage
Porch steps run come here
Dogs sleep chicken pencil trees
E-mail purple orange swims blackened
Garbage pink composition solely bags speak odorously
Now later red cat boat ship house girl me myself

<h3>and i as u.s. americans will still pledge our allegiance to a nation under the bridge and over the rainbow and to a republic for these states along with the ones in the flag to the reform of all and as they unite so we will be able to build up our future for us nevertheless what the hell we’re all together in the same boat with liberty and a god in dividend justice available to all and for all and six all and eight all and more than that even all y’all good night nurse and have a pleasant tomorrow.louse </h3>
Take sharpness filling soda cans
Wetness smooth dancing sheep
Horse paper handbags skipping forests play together
In worlds with pencils, schools page drink slime
Loving living nectar of bees of pollen and butterflies run amok
Children bikes cars sliding
Typing while sleeping and running while cat
Over the hills, cloud blue a shelf lay fuschia
Labels and rash, files are landing
Wall speaks windy hot mess
Brightness foresees the rug
Dirty slime amidst antiquated hoopla
Take shirt slam crazy bike tires in afternoon
Amongst all confused working fly
Sensibly effort compound bed bubble
Kings sense jester realize tongues poetry
Words hard journal describe impossible
Religious hair coma machine idea hate
Interesting hospital interpreting description extreme encounter
Junction one distant fragile mine
Death wretched addled else finally chant mind sea backgrounds
Obey space cat disjointed languages swearing admit stranger bit dressing
Picture cake chocolate rambling UFO solar here fuse barking
Online signature basic color sleep ideas class
Dog bike cat sat sit down under sleep jump
 Back to the Famous FTRA killers page
<http://www.ftra.org/FamousKillers/SideTrack/FamousKillers.html> Side
Track AKA: Robert Silvera’s home page Has confessed to four killings
last time I checked,maybe more by now! Conspicously absent from
these tags and from Silveras jacket are any of the swastikas and SS
lightning bolts for which according to media fiction FTRA grafittie is
supposed to be so famous for! According to this new FTRA dude
<http://www.ftra.org/FamousKillers/SideTrack/Dude.html> : “Side Track is
a dip shit. He was old FTRA and probably did kill, however, I think he
was a Psyco not typical because hitler was a killer doesnt mean all
black headed men are killers. I’m new FTRA I’m not the old wore out FTRA
bums.” According to Dective Quakenbush, Silvera is the Leader of the
FTRA
<http://www.ftra.org/FamousKillers/SideTrack/KillersRideRails.html#4>
some good info on how they caught Silvera in roseville who is suspected
of 20 murders <http://www.iwn.com/pcso/murder.htm> Silvera who is
already doing two live sentinces gets a third life sentence in Kansas.
Since he was only killing train bums nobody really gives a shit about
spending the money to put him to death. Click the link to read the
original or read my copy below
http://cda.net/stories/1998/May/21/S393956.asp
<http://cda.net/stories/1998/May/21/S393956.asp>
March 21 1998`Boxcar Killer’ convicted in KansasMan already sentenced in Oregon slayings

Associated Press

The so-called “Boxcar Killer,” linked to a series of hobo killings in
seven states, including Washington, pleaded guilty Wednesday to
first-degree murder and was sentenced to life in prison for the
bludgeoning death of a man at a state park.

Before he was sentenced by Ellsworth County District Judge Barry
Bennington, Robert Silveria, 39, apologized to relatives of Charles
Randall Boyd, who was beaten to death in a collapsed tent at Kanopolis
Lake’s South Shore State Park.

Court records show Boyd, who was in his 40s, met Silveria in El Paso,
Texas, while Boyd was building a bunk house for a youth ranch managed
by Christ is the Answer Mission. Silveria returned with him to the
ranch and later traveled with him to Kansas.

When Boyd’s body was discovered in July 1995, Silveria was nowhere to be
found. Also missing were Boyd’s identification, personal belongings and
vehicle.

Silveria was arrested by a railroad police officer eight months later in
Auburn, Calif. He had Boyd’s credit cards with him, prosecutors said.

The judge ordered Silveria to serve his sentence consecutive to two life
sentences, both without parole, that he already faces in Oregon for his
convictions of two killings there.

A serial killer provision in the Kansas death penalty statute allows
capital murder charges for the premeditated killing of more than one
person in two or more acts.

But Ellsworth County prosecutor Joe Shepack said he did not pursue the
death penalty because of limited resources.

“Part of it is cost. Part of it is not necessarily dollars and cents,
it’s applying fairly stretched law enforcement resources and
prosecutorial resources elsewhere,” Shepack said Wednesday night in a
telephone interview. “Do I feel comfortable with three or four life
sentences? Yes.”

After his arrest in California, Silveria was ultimately linked to more
than a dozen homicides in seven states during a 15-year period.

Most victims were killed in their sleep for their identification and
other belongings. Police say Silveria used birth certificates, Social
Security cards and the names of his victims to obtain food stamps and
other public assistance.

Oregon prosecutors were the first to file charges against Silveria,
accusing him of robbing and killing William Avis Pettit, 39, of Salem
on Dec. 1, 1995. Pettit’s battered body was found in a boxcar.

In Florida, Silveria is accused of killing Willie Clark, 52.

It was uncertain Wednesday whether Florida officials would seek
Silveria’s immediate extradition or if Silveria would return to Oregon.
Boxcar serial killer’ pleads guilty
<http://cgi.sacbee.com/news/beetoday/newsroom/local/020898/local11.html>
By Wayne Wilson
Bee Staff Writer
(Published Feb. 8, 1998)

Robert Joseph Silveria A boxcar-riding transient who confessed to
killing more than a dozen men in railroad yards across the country has
formally pleaded guilty to two slayings in Oregon and will soon be on
his way to prosecution in Kansas or Florida.
Robert Joseph Silveria, 38, was arrested in Roseville by an alert
railroad cop in March 1996 and, during a 10-day stay in the Placer
County jail, provided investigators from seven states with enough
detailed information about a series of homicides to become known as the
“boxcar serial killer.”

That description was solidified when Silveria tearfully pleaded guilty
before Marion County, Ore., Circuit Court Judge James Rhoades to the
December 1995 aggravated murders of William A. Pettit, 39, and Michael
A. Clites, 24.

In a prepared statement read to the judge Jan. 31, Silveria wept as he
admitted causing the deaths of both men by beating them for the purpose
of robbing them.

Pettit’s body was found in a parked boxcar on Dec. 3, 1995, in
Millersburg, Ore., and Clites’ was discovered in a freight car near
Portland, Ore., on Dec. 6, 1995.

The judge promptly sentenced Silveria to two consecutive terms of life
imprisonment without the possibility of parole, and because of his
pleas, he may not appeal the judgment, according to prosecuting
attorney Diana Moffat.

A hearing will be conducted Feb. 16 to determine if Silveria is willing
to waive extradition to Ellsworth County, Kan., or to Tallahassee, Fla.,
which have filed warrants charging him with murder in their
jurisdictions.

In Kansas, Silveria is alleged to have killed Charles Boyd, 46, in
Kanopolis State Park on July 28, 1995. In Florida, he is charged with
the April 28, 1994, bludgeoning of Willie Clark, 52.

According to Moffat and the chief investigator on the case, Mike
Quakenbush of the Salem, Ore., Police Department, solid evidence also
links Silveria to the April 9, 1989, beating death of Anthony Garcia,
62, in West Sacramento; the Aug. 2, 1994, killing of Michael A.
Garfinkle, 20, in Emeryville; the April 21, 1995, homicide of Roger
Bowman, 38, in Salt Lake City; and the Oct. 15, 1995, slaying of Paul
W. Matthews, 43, in a hobo camp outside Whitefish, Mont.

While Silveria’s statements permitted detectives to clear those
homicides, formal charges have not yet been filed and may never be.

Another dozen or more killings were addressed by Silveria during his
stay in the Placer County jail, but there is insufficient evidence to
confirm his involvement

From the LA times

A key break came with the arrest last year in Roseville, Calif., of
Silveria, who subsequently confessed to a string of boxcar killings from
Florida to Montana between 1981 and 1995. A native of San Jose, the
38-year-old Silveria occasionally held down odd jobs but appeared
primarily to have made his living knocking off fellow train riders for
their welfare and disability checks, authorities said.

Silveria, who has the word “Freedom” tattooed on his neck, purportedly
explained his spree in a series of letters to a former Placer County
jail mate, later filed with the court. He pronounced himself “the
leader of my nation: the homeless,” and added: “I could have tortured
others of your world, but I chose to torture my world, because I preyed
on the weak.

“People always said I looked like the devil when I was beating the s—
out of [someone],” he wrote.

Silveria has subsequently denied FTRA affiliation,
<http://www.ftra.org/FamousKillers/SideTrack/FTRA.html> and authorities
say he now claims that purported confessions were coerced. His lawyers
have declined comment.

Silvera allegedly identified other FTRA members in numerous killings,
including Spokane resident Hugh “Dog Man Tony” Ross, who rode with
Silveria for years

Subject: Re: Train-Hopper Killer
Date: 1996/03/18

Newsgroups: misc.transport.rail.americas

In article <4htlo8$6mv@…>, Silas Warner <silas@…>
wrote:

Reprinted and abridged from the San Francisco Examiner for March 9.

This article can be found on the San Francisco Examiner web page at:

http://www.sfgate.com/examiner/index.html

AUBURN – Authorities now suspect that a transient accused of preying on
fellow boxcar riders may have committed at least 12 homicides and
possibly dozens more. Police are inquiring about 37-year-old Robert
Joseph Silveria.

Court documents say he confessed to an unspecified number of murders and
provided “exact and specific detail” on slayings in California, Arizona,
Kansas, Montana, Oregon and Utah.

Silveria, who rode the rails using the nickname “Sidetrack”, is a member
of a loosely organized “gang of thugs” known as the Freight Train
Riders Association, investigators said. Silveria told an uncle by
marriage that he had killed 47 people. “He said it was caused by a deep
anger in him. He said that after the first one it just got easier and
easier.”

So far, Silveria has been charged only with the murder of William
Pettit, Jr., 39, whose body was found in a boxcar in Millersburg, OR.

Other slaying vicims may include Michael Garfinkle, 20, who was found
beaten to death Aug. 2 in Emeryville.

Silas Warner

Right it supports my contention that the greatist danger on trains if
from other train hoppers. How many dead tramps per year do we have in
the US. Notice that for a really long time knobody worried to much
about these bums geting killed. If he had killed 47 lawyers I would
think that the cops would have been on him quicker.

Eric Jackson

jaks@…

From North Bank Freds Brooklen yard pages
<http://www.snowcrest.net/bndlstif/brooklyn.html>

Very chillingly, this photo illustrates the dark side of tramping, in
the form of a moniker left in 1996 by Robert “Sidetrack” Silveria, the
alleged FTRA boxcar killer. One could find this grafitto under the
Holgate St. bridge over Portland’s Brooklyn Yard,

in the jungle area. UP painted over all of the jungle’s graffiti in
July 1997, so this piece is gone. Interestingly, the grafitto used to
say “FTRA” under the “ACK” in the word “Sidetrack”, and I happened to
be in the jungle when another FTRA tramp crossed it out, sputtering
something about how Sidetrack wasn’t fit to be an FTRA member after all
of his alleged crimes.
Who do the police say Silvera killed

One of the answers came in August of 1994, when 20-year-old Michael
Garfinkle of Tarzana, on summer break from college, strapped on a
backpack and headed north through California on the rails. Police say
he met suspected FTRA member Robert Silveria near Emeryville. Silveria
later admitted killing the young man with an ax handle.

A longtime rail rider who reportedly has confessed to at least nine
slayings, Silveria walked up toward Garfinkle’s camp, where the young
man told him: “This is my area,” Emeryville police Detective Wade
Harper said. Silveria apparently disagreed.

Darren Royal Miller, age 19, killed July 8, 1992
And since his questioning began following his arrest March 2 in
Roseville, Silveria has been linked to the July 8, 1992, killing of
Darren Royal Miller, 19, in Thompson Springs, Utah.

Roger Bowman, 38, on April 21, 1995, in Salt Lake City,

Charles Boyd, 46, in July 1995, in Ellsworth County, Kan.; Paul Wayne
Mathews, 43, on Oct. 15, 1995, in Whitefish,Mont.

William Pettit Jr age 39,December 1995
Silveria is awaiting trial in Salem, Ore.,in the bludgeoning of
39-year-old William Pettit Jr. in 1995.
<http://php.indiana.edu/%7Emellman/murder.html> Oregon prosecutors plan
to introduce confessions to at least five other killings across the
country.

Placer County investigators said that at the time of his arrest, they
found in Silveria’s possession pieces of Pettit’s personal property,
articles of clothing and a lock of his hair.

Oregon prosecutors have accused Silveria of aggravated murder and
first-degree robbery in the December 1995 death of William A. Pettit
Jr., 39, whose battered body was found in a boxcar in Millersburg,
Ore., near Salem.

Here is an article about him being take to oregon for trial
<http://sddtsun.sddt.com/files/librarywire/96wireheadlines/03_96/DN96_03\
_14/DN96_03_14_co.html>

Michael A. Clites, 24, on Dec. 5, 1995, in Eugene, Ore. two victims
in Pima County, Ariz., who have yet to be found and identified.
California transient linked to murders of 14 drifters
Reuters News Service
<http://www.chron.com/content/chronicle/nation/96/03/10/murders.html>

SAN FRANCISCO — A transient being held in northern California has been
linked to the murders of 14 drifters who rode the nation’s railroads,
authorities said Saturday.

Railroad police arrested Robert Joseph Silveria, 36, a week ago at a
rail yard in Roseville, near the state capital Sacramento, on a warrant
for violating probation, the Placer County Sheriff’s Department said.

Since then detectives have been investigating whether Silveria may have
been involved in a series of murders of male transients who ride
railroad boxcars in the western United States between 1981 and 1995, it
said.

The victims — drifters or job-seekers who catch rides on freight trains
— were usually stabbed or bludgeoned to death and robbed of their
meager belongings.

A statement from the Placer County Sheriff’s Department said Silveria
“has been linked to 14 murders” in Oregon, Montana, Utah, Kansas,
California, Arizona and Washington state.

So far Silveria, who is jailed in Auburn, Calif., has been charged with
only one murder, that of William Pettit, 39, whose body was found last
December in a boxcar in Oregon.

Silveria appeared before a magistrate Friday on a Marion County, Ore.,
warrant charging murder and robbery and agreed to be extradited to
Salem, Ore.

The Sheriff’s Department said detectives believe Silveria may be a
member of a criminal transient gang known as the F.T.R.A., or Freight
Train Riders Association.

Another story about how Side track used the victems ID’s
<http://sddt.com/files/librarywire/96wireheadlines/03_96/DN96_03_18/DN96\
_03_18_cf.html>

Silvera in excite
<http://www.excite.com/search.gw?look=default&search=Robert+Silveria&tsu\
g=0&csug=0&Search=Search&collection=web&clk=b-b-F1&showSummary=true&sori\
g=rpage&trace=b>

Search for Silvera in hotbot
<http://www.hotbot.com/?MT=Robert+Joseph+Silveria&submit=SEARCH&SM=name&\
_v=2&OPs=MDRTP>

Back to the Famous FTRA killers page
<http://www.ftra.org/FamousKillers/SideTrack/FamousKillers.html>

—–Inline Attachment Follows—–

home > articles > Trainspotting – part 1
Trainspotting
by Katia Dunn for the Portland Mercury, 7/13/00

After my sixth hour in jail, the euphoria of freight train riding
wore off. It wasn’t really the claustrophobia of my cell, the public
toilet, or the man who sat dejectedly in neck shackles in a pool of his
own excrement (he had just tried to attack a female police officer) –
all these things were unpleasant, certainly. But it was the desperate
boredom that really killed me. How four tiny walls could contain such an
infinite amount of misery was something I never anticipated. No, there
is nothing glamorous about jail. But I can’t complain – I chose to hop
that train.

Rider XIt was June 15. One of the first, really hot days, when
everything is thick and tastes of salt. I’d received a tip about a
seasoned trainhopper in Portland – going by the moniker Rider X – who
was going to hop a train and attend a hobo “convention” in Dunsmuir,
California. This is a yearly occasion where the all-star hobos and
tramps collect and hobnob; if only for a few days.

One frantic half hour later, I was wandering around the freight yard,
changed from a light-cotton, white dress to an old, gray sweatshirt,
jeans, and grimy running shoes. (Later, when I was arrested, the police
officer would record that all my clothes were in “worn” condition.)

In a moment of perfect luck, I spotted Rider X, crouched in an elbow of
the freight yard, camouflaged within the shrubbery. He had no idea I was
coming. Relieved and thrilled that I had actually discovered my contact,
I climbed on the wheel of a car and called out to him. He looked up with
surprise, and then dismay. “Take your foot off that wheel right now!
Now!” he yelled (it was the loudest I would ever hear Rider X speak).

This was my first lesson in how to play the game of trainhopping. In
many ways, it’s just like any other sport – yet with higher stakes.
There are rules, and if you’re stupid about them, you’ll get hurt. Maybe
even killed. I later discovered that if you step on a wheel and the
train begins to move, your legs could get sucked under, and possibly
sliced off.

Rider XAfter a hasty intro, Rider X and I caught a “Piggy Back” train,
meaning we rode under a semi-truck driven onto the back of a flat car.
It was a dense twilight when we caught the train, and we watched the
sunset with flask of whiskey while wedged between the giant wheels of
the truck. The danger and excitement produced a kind of euphoria that I
remember experiencing only one other time: On a trip in Wales, when I
hitch-hiked alone 60 miles through yellow hills, to hike the highest
mountain in the country. It’s a feeling that’s hard to describe, but on
both occasions, I was giddy with satisfaction.

As one seasoned rider later told me, “After your first ride on the
train, you realize that it is an unparalleled freedom, sitting there, in
the wind.” Sure, it sounds corny, but it’s true. It was as if someone
had taken all elements of the standard vacation and distilled them down
to its most sublime form.

Rider X proved to be an endlessly patient companion and guide,
especially since I was a surprise tag-a-along. He was prepared for a
solo, 24-hour journey, as well as a vacation from his family and job, so
when I told him a) I was a journalist, b) I’d never done this before,
and c) I was going to tag along with him, he was silent. After five
minutes of tension, I knew I had to either say something or jump off
right there. “Are you really mad at me?” I quietly asked him as the
train rolled along. Pause. “No,” he said softly. “No, not at all.”

I decided I might as well get it over with. “Well then, do you mind me
coming with you?”

Longer pause. “No… No, I guess not.” And from that point on, we
developed a quiet camaraderie, getting to know each other in the time
between great silences.

All through Southern Oregon and into California, we teetered on the edge
of 50 foot cliffs where sharp rivers cut clean trails through blond
canyons; places where no roads, and no people, exist. We rode like this
through the night, stopping once for 3 hours to switch trains, then
catching the back of a “grainer;” a grain car with a small porch on the
back. Sleeping on the grainer wasn’t exactly cozy, but in the morning –
waking up as the train sat dead still and silent in the middle of an
Aspen forest – compensated for any suffering.

When I first told Rider X I was writing this story, he grimaced and
said, “This isn’t an amusement park.” He was right. As I said, riding is
a game with enormous risks. In fact, a little over one year ago, police
finally captured serial killer Robert Silveria, who traveled the
railroads for six years, brutally murdering more than one dozen fellow
hobos with whatever tools he found on hand.

The killer went by the moniker of “Sidetrack,” and belonged to a group
called the “F.T.R.A.,” a gang of men who ride year round and follow a
Nazi dogma. Rider X thinks he may have met Sidetrack once, wandering
below a bridge in Portland. “He was polite enough,” according to X’s
description. “He just said hello and went on his way.” In part, it took
the police so long to find Sidetrack because the railroads are an
ungoverned community within America – where etiquette and luck are all
one can really rely on.

After waking up in filthy contentment at 11 am, we pulled into a small
town outside the California border.

We stayed in hiding for awhile, until after the crew had changed, giving
the bull (railroad police) plenty of time to come by. It seemed safe.
When I came out of hiding, it was a beautiful day; sharp and sunny. I
stripped off the old gray sweatshirt and thought about how glad I was to
be here, and how my co-workers were sitting at their boring desks in our
boring office.

When we saw the white jeep slowly crawling up, we didn’t see any cause
for concern. “It’s probably just the crew,” said Rider X. (Crews
generally don’t care about riders.) “There’s probably some technical
problem, or maybe they’re moving the cars around.” In retrospect, I
wonder why we didn’t run at that second. We were only a few miles from
town, from some fields, from the road. We’re both small people; we could
have escaped.

Slow motion: the jeep’s door shut and a seemingly 11-foot-man strutted
the 100 yards over to where we stood. Thinking that perhaps the bull
didn’t see me, I tried to hide. Naturally, this didn’t fool him. “Come
out, right now,” the bull said, in a stern, you’re-being-really-stupid
tone. I was embarrassed but still tried to persuade him we would never
do it again. Yeah, right. Within a few moments, we were handcuffed and
thrown in the back of the bull’s jeep.

I’ll never know if Rider X would have been caught if I hadn’t been
tagging along; in 15 years of riding, he’d never been arrested. This is
a grand achievement. For Rider X, being caught was a giant blemish on
his previously spotless record. However, I was rejoicing. “This is going
to be great for my story!” Rider X shot me a cold stare, suffering in
silence.

Of course, my annoyingly enthusiastic attitude only lasted for a couple
of minutes. As I sat in the back of the police jeep, wrists chafing
against the cuffs, the realization I was going to jail was like a slow,
cold shower.

As the officer searched me – digging her rubber-gloved hands through my
pockets, examining my Visa Card, my pocket knife, asking what kind of
bra I wore, counting the money I had on me ($9.55) – I could see a real
person there somewhere. I could imagine myself having dinner with her.
Maybe she could’ve been a PTA mom. But there was no addressing that
person, not here. Standing there, her hands brusquely searching my
person, I felt truly alone.

“Jesus,” my booking officer said to me. “I’ve seen you. You’re the kind
of girl whose body I identify on the tracks – the ones who are raped and
have their throats slit.” Though the image of someone identifying my
dead body was mildly disturbing, this was actually the most concern
anyone paid me – and for some reason, I appreciated it.

And then there were the questions: How old was I, where was I born, what
color are my eyes, my hair, have I been arrested before, my social
security number, what was my profession, who was my employer, where did
I live, etc. While I didn’t want to answer the questions, I obeyed,
remembering the “catch more flies with honey” theory.

Yet, when they asked what my sexual preference was, I was astounded.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, indignant. He
answered me in an equally defensive tone, something along the lines of
“it’s so we can know where to house you. Do you want to be housed in the
wrong cell?”

A quick glance at the cells behind him told me they were all packed, and
I seriously doubted there was an “all-lesbian cell.” Answering
truthfully would be difficult, since I’ve never actually been able to
quantify this question with a one-word answer. I imagined telling him,
“Well, I’ve dated both men and women, officer, and I generally enjoyed
sex with all my partners.” But instead I stood there, hands behind my
back, and stared at him, not knowing how to answer. “Which sex do you
prefer?” he asked again, losing his patience. I finally grasped the
safest answer under the circumstances, and told him I preferred males.

My cellmate, LaLoni, was thrilled to welcome me into her tiny room,
mostly because she hadn’t talked to anyone for 10 days. She was in for
60 days on a D.U.I. with a .58 blood alcohol level, which is legally
dead. Detox was, as she explained it, “pure hell. Worse than coming down
from any, any drug.” We barely had enough space to lay our quarter-inch
thick, single person mats on the concrete floor. In one corner, there
was a steel toilet, and when we used it we gave each other the courtesy
of closing our eyes.

Laloni had six kids at home, the oldest one my age (22), and she took it
upon herself to step into a maternal role with me (“You’re a tiny little
thing! Do you eat when you’re on the rails?”). Before Laloni was
arrested she drank, on average, a gallon of whiskey a day. Instead of
the six month rehab program that the judge offered her, she chose 60
days in jail. “Of course I’m going to sober up when I get out of jail,”
she told me. “I’m just not going to do it in a fucking rehab center.”
Even when Laloni’s family appeared in court and begged her to go to
rehab, Laloni knew it was really because they were “all against her.”

She gave me a lot of advice about surviving in jail, but the most
helpful tidbit was that “the first day is the worst.” Since I only
stayed one day, I can only hope that’s true; I couldn’t have been more
ecstatic when I was finally released. We were placed on six-month
probation, and warned that if caught trespassing again, we would receive
something just short of execution. We bought a ticket for Amtrak the
remaining way, and arrived in Dunsmuir, Calif., in two hours.

part 2

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home > articles > Trainspotting – part 2
Trainspotting – part 2
by Katia Dunn for the Portland Mercury, 7/13/00

Rider XThough we didn’t come in on a freight, we still rode in on the
rails. After a 20-minute walk, 15 men welcomed us to their “jungle.” The
jungle is the place in any town where hobos hang out. It’s always close
to the tracks, always has a fire, and always has hobos – drinking,
talking, eating. Hobos and tramps came and went, but were always
returning to this central spot.

One of the first people I met was a 52-year-old man who requested the
alias TRD. By trade, he’s a nurse’s assistant, but he really only works
as a means to ride. He was also definitely the cleanest hobo I met; the
few remaining hairs on his head were neatly combed, his long-sleeve
shirt tucked crisply into his pants. TRD loved the Italian Renaissance
and reminded me, in some ways, of a baseball fanatic I once knew – his
knowledge of freight trains is encyclopedic.

Walking into the town of Dunsmuir (population: 2,100) so TRD could look
for a copy of King Lear, he explained why he loves riding the rails.
“Some people travel to get somewhere,” he said, “I travel to travel, and
to get somewhere. I’ve been all over the country this way.” Trainhopping
is TRD’s only illegal activity; he doesn’t even drink. “One time, I was
talking to a friend about this, and he said, ‘You know, you’re only
doing this do run away from your problems,'” TRD over-articulates every
point, reminding me of my high-school French teacher pronouncing verbs.
“And I said, you know, you’re absolutely right. I am running away.”

While explaining his love of trains, TRD also spoke of his ex-wife, with
whom he had, only days before, ended a 15-year-marriage. “She just
decided we were different people, that it was time to move on,” he said,
in a moment when his honesty and pain made me look anywhere but his
face. “I’m not sure what it was exactly,” he continued. “I know what
it’s not. She didn’t cheat, I didn’t cheat. I never beat her. It wasn’t
money. But when I return, I won’t be allowed back in the house.”

“If I were in your situation, I think I would be lonely in a boxcar,
alone, in a strange city,” I told him.

“Maybe you would,” TRD countered “But maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you
would enjoy it. Maybe you would think about things, and maybe you would
read, maybe you would love traveling.”

The last thing TRD and I talked about, before he wandered off into the
dark woods, was that he loved the movie The English Patient. “What movie
has ever captured a romance like that?” he asked me. “What movie speaks
to the human condition, to the human desire, like that film?”

Rider X”There is a certain, fraternal order to our gathering here,”
explains a retired hobo from Seattle. His moniker – Points West –
hearkens back to his glory days, in the ’70s, when he rode half the
year. On this trip in particular, he’s left his family for one last
glory ride. He’s right about the similarities to a frat. Of the 20
people gathered there, I am the only girl. And, in many ways, the
gathering is not unlike many other all-male functions I’ve attended. The
boys get together, drink, talk shop, and bond in a way I can never quite
grasp, since it relies not on words, but being in one place for a common
reason.

“The most important part of this whole thing is our gathering together
this evening,” explains North Bank Fred, who is one of the main
organizers of this bonding session, and I notice that the men who have
come to hang out with North Bank are different than TRD. They talk about
trains for hours, discussing the best routes, which freight yards are
hot (meaning which are likely to be closely guarded), which are the most
scenic, the fastest. It’s not exactly bragging, as in traditional sports
talk – it’s not a matter of speed, or endurance, or testosterone. The
competition is not with fellow hobos, but with the police. Yet, like any
other game, the players have a mutual respect for the competitors. As
TRD explains, “I always tell the police the truth. They deserve that,
and I find they treat me better when I do.”

“Why are you doing something illegal?” I asked all the hobos. “Is it
just because you love trains?”

Yes, all the men loved trains. But as Points West explained, “It’s like
any other sport, but better, because, unless you think trespassing is
immoral, there’s nothing wrong with it. Yet, the stakes are higher than
most sports.”

He has a point. While football increases testosterone, losing doesn’t
have any real consequences. “Sooner or later, you’re going to come to a
freight yard,” explains Points West, “and if you don’t know what you’re
doing, you’re going to seriously lose.” And for this reason, hobos both
love and hate the cops. “There’s a certain respect you have for
everyone, even the cops. If it wasn’t illegal, the stakes wouldn’t be
nearly so high.”

It is here, too, that the philosophy of train-hopping comes in. “No one
wants to get caught, but no one wants the police to actually disappear,
either,” explains Points West. “Trainhopping isn’t for everyone, and
wouldn’t be the same if it resembled a commercial sport.”

“It was Christmas Eve,” explains 45-year-old Larry, who is drinking his
15th Natural Ice beer. “And we had ridden to Helena, Montana. We were
sleeping there, in the snow, and we built a fire.” Larry pauses. “And
then, the cops show up. They kicked me; Who knows why they chose me?
They put out my fire and demanded my ID.” Larry is furious, talking to
me as if I’m the cop. “You just put out my fire, and now you’re asking
me for my ID? Well, Fuck You!”

Larry is a tramp; he rides the rails all the time, all weather. “I’ve
been all up and down the West coast, in and out of jails,” explains
Larry. For him, riding is no game. “When I get arrested, I think hell,
great. There’s a warm bed, a meal. It’s a college dorm.”

In reality, men like TRD and North Bank Fred are minority riders. While
TRD rides “just to ride,” many don’t take such a romantic view; they
ride to get somewhere, or as a non-specific act of rebellion. Ben, a
20-year-old anarchist who organized protests at the WTO, searches for a
reason for trainhopping, and failing that, opts for rhetoric. “I just
don’t want to be part of the capitalist machine,” said Ben. “We’re all
slaves here, in America. Slaves to corporations, that is.”

According to Rider X, people like Ben and Larry make up the majority of
trainriders today. “Most of the people I see on the rails are either
punk kids or Mexicans, who travel in the growing season to get work
elsewhere.” For Rider X, who has a family and a job, train riding is an
eclectic, little-known sport. For tramps, it is a way of life.

At the conclusion of the “convention,” Rider X and I bought tickets for
Amtrak, making a journey in seven hours that originally took 30. We
talked all the way back, about his family, art, music, and Portland. “I
was impressed,” Rider X later told me, referring to my first train-hop.
“You never freaked out, you never gave up. For your first time, you did
pretty well.”

Yet, as I sat in a plush seat, watching the scenery through tinted
glass, I couldn’t help feeling like a bit of a failure for taking
Amtrak. Maybe I would get too comfortable, forget how good it felt. Then
I remembered what North Bank told me, after learning of my arrest.
“Don’t feel like you have to stop now,” he said. “It’s just like any
other sport, you have to get up and try again. You just lost round one,
that’s all. You’ll win round two.”

 
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Posted by on January 22, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

Big Pharma Paid Troll threatens a Mental Ill Holocaust Surviver-

Lovely to hear from you, so sorry you are having such a bad time and haven’t been able to go out. You music is a gift to the world.

How much is lost in government fraud < Elderly-Senile > 2016-10-29 00:29

I post as Elderly-Senile…I have just decided to tell Craigslist monitors about this.
But if he Comes to Watch me playing Guitar on the street, and has threatened to Beat me into a Bloody Pulp, then my Only Talent in Worthless.

Big Pharma Paid Troll threatens a Mental Ill Holocaust Surviver—-I made a video of his

Big Pharma Paid Troll threatens a Mental Ill Holocaust Surviver

https://forums.craigslist.org/?ID=275959942

You obviously lack the capability of having < BaBahGanoush > 2016-10-29 11:07

any level of discussion here, since ALL you do is post hate-filled, ridiculous, irrational trolling SHIT.

You are an ADMITTED CRIMINALLY INSANE FELON who committed a violent, serious felony to have been incarcerated for over 22 years in facilities for the criminally mentally insane.

What DID you do to warrant that? Did you rape children? You SICK piece of shit.

You can’t even make a coherent post: ALL you EVER do is attack people.

So go duck yourself, you worthless, despicable, disgusting, filthy street beggar who always smells of old urine. You are a complete WASTE of oxygen.
https://forums.craigslist.org/?ID=275959942

What WAS the felony violent crime you < BaBahGanoush > 2016-10-29 11:18

committed, you filthy nonsense-spewing, piss-smelling street beggar?

Did you rape children? Did you murder a child?
You ARE a coward and a pussy.

ad hominem

You attacked your opponent’s character or personal traits in an attempt to undermine their argument.

Ad hominem attacks can take the form of overtly attacking somebody, or more subtly casting doubt on their character or personal attributes as a way to discredit their argument. The result of an ad hom attack can be to undermine someone’s case without actually having to engage with it.

 
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Posted by on November 2, 2016 in Uncategorized