warrant

7--updated-25--waiting on the Lord--2021

Alcatraz Revisited as Government Dramatically Revises Warrant: Death Penalty for Hutterite?
"The Battle is the LORD's" and "God is not mocked."
1. I can prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that the warrant is grounded in perjury: a "lie under oath." Someone lied under oath.
2. I can prove beyond a shadow of doubt that the warrant is grounded on falsified, manipulated, and contrived evidence.
3. Pure hate. The burden of proof in hate crime is impossibly high. But this warrant is pure hate by the two richest people in the county--Haman-Ahab and Jezebel bent on destroying poor Naboth at all costs (see how they now revised the damages from $1000 to $100,000--first they tortured me to cooperate, and now the Government is threatening me with certain financial ruin. $100,000 must be the exchange rate these days for 30 pieces of silver adjusted to inflation. Where am I to get $100,000? They're a hair's breadth away from seeking the death penalty. They outlawed the manual on Water Boarding. Not to worry, I can always give them an animated version of all the stages the mind goes through as it watches itself die, as could any Hutterite child--we just didn't know they called it Water Boarding. Watching the news (back then) with a Middle Eastern friend, I turned and said to him in amazement, "They call that Water Boarding? We never called it Water Boarding." Because none of the old men ever said anything about a board. My grandfather Paul of beloved memory never said anything about a board. Had he succumbed to the fate of his companions, my mother being not yet born, I would have never been born). It has nothing to do with crime whatsoever and everything to do with a specific person. Haman went after Mordecai for no other reason than that he was a Jew. No one goes around calling himself a racist. The Lutheran preacher (see below) doesn't go around calling himself a racist. The Reformed Elder who doesn't think George Floyd is an American (see below) doesn't go around calling himself a racist. But from the very beginning (8 years) when the police began showing up to tell me I was doing nothing wrong in driving my sheep down to the slough, I told them what this is: Haman uses the police to put "uppity" Mordecai the Jew (or "that Hutterite" as they say over the intercom at the local plant) in his place. To have a Hutterite live this close is akin to a black person moving into your neighborhood in the deep South (that is, if you harbor Mordecai the Jew Syndrome--something like this can still exist in our day?--read below). To have to meet a non-bowing Mordecai constantly walking on his former favorite road was unbearable (if I don't constantly walk my crippled foot it becomes unusable). He said he would "mention" me to the sheriff (8 years ago), and the next day the sheriff was here to tell me I was doing nothing wrong. But then why did you come, I always ask. We have to come, they always reply. But how is this not police harassment, I would say. We have to come. But how.... At the end of the day it boils down to this: No Jew would ever mistake Haman's rage for anything other than what it is. Few South Dakotans remember Alcatraz, and no one can believe that Hutterites sold their land under duress and fled to Canada. I grew up in the shadow of Alcatraz. When I hear them refer to me as "that Hutterite" over the intercom, or "damn Hutterite", I feel the chill of Alcatraz. When I mention this to the police they dismiss it as just another drunk lying in the gutter crying "police harassment." I have heard "Hut, Hut, Hut" since my first trip to town when I was four years old. For a Christian such things are the least of his worries--any Christian always has much larger fish to fry any minute of the day. But how do you now explain that a warrant can be issued on a lie under oath, on falsified, contrived, and manipulated evidence, after an eight year campaign of calling the police on me for non-reasons, and hiding the fact that they now know what the whole neighborhood knows: there were two of us from beginning to end, but were intentionally sent on the trail of only one. How can the law charge only one bank robber when the whole neighborhood knows there were two? It's as if they arbitrarily snipped ten minutes out of my life and said "we'll call that a crime." If so, the entire day of any American citizen is a life of crime. A Christian not only must not commit evil, his testimony will be in utter ruins if he does not "avoid any appearance of evil." This warrant is the assassination of my Christian testimony. If any (even the appearance of such) of it is true, any person can justly call me an utter fraud and hypocrite: a Christian death sentence. Even worse would be the attempt to cover the sin, or to try to cast it as something other than what it is, for that would add lying to acts of evil ("he that covereth his sin shall not prosper"). If you go back and and read from the beginning you can see that I profess to understand nothing of this (from 1 to 10 trillion trillion, not even a shadow of such at the point of 1) except the Mordecai the Jew part. "But who ," his friend growled at Job, "ever perished being innocent." Where there's smoke, as they said to Job, there's fire. If, as I always say, a righteous man never has to worry about repeating himself, then the writing of an unrighteous man who covers his sin should be full of inconsistencies, lapses, special pleading, ambiguity, etc., and anyone should be able to point them out. If I thought another Christian was guilty of this, I would tell him to take his Bible and disappear for a couple of months. This would be an abomination in any Christian. If on a scale of 1 to a trillion trillion with 1 being the least degree of guilt--I would consider it an abomination in me if there should be even the appearance of guilt in 1. And now for six months I have, (as they said of Job) "added rebellion unto his sin, clappeth his hands among us, and multiplieth his words against God." From the very beginning I told both the police and the neighbors that the only explanation for all this is Mordecai the Jew Syndrome, an ancient and historic hatred that most people can't imagine exists. One neighbor got it instantly and said, "It's because you didn't ask his permission." Another, "Find out out what kind of beer he drinks" and appease him that way. But for 25 years, as the neighbors in the Park will tell you, I watched that field (now an industrial park that the whole town drives through--essentially a truck-stop) for them, pulled countless tires, bicycles, barrels, and wood that Park children left in there, lest they damage their haying equipment. I trespassed across it grievously one day, when I saw one of their truckers attempt to load his pickup with a shovel in the hot sun. I jumped in my loader, loaded him up, drove back to my work, then loaded him several more times. If you mention things like this to the police, they get angry. What's that got to do with anything?

As you can see from the revised warrant, Intermill's widow (who owns the land behind my acreage and who kept telling me he needed to run his pipe into my land in order to drain his field. All the neighbors can tell you what I told him: "I'll take the fence down, you can plow through my alfalfa--when done I'll replant it, and fix the fence. A small favor for a neighbor")--his widow joined this wicked man to pursue an ancient and historic hatred. If either of them knew what I told the neighbors (see below), when they so greatly distressed the widow shortly before Intermill was struck down in the prime of life, both their hair would stand on end. I asked God to relieve the widow. I have spent most of my life thinking about life around me ("on earth") and finding an example of it in parable form in the Bible ("as it is in Heaven"). The Bible is the grid through which God looks at the world, for "Thou hast magnified Thy Word above all Thy name." When "every jot and tittle" has been thus joined, the End will come, for the End will not come until everything has been accounted for. When I find a connection, I draw God into the fray (so to speak) by asking Him to take hold of both and bring His hands together. "God is not mocked." In the middle of the night in a raging blizzard, on my way home from the East Coast on Christmas break, while stopping at a Rest Area in Iowa, I saw the distinct picture of a young Marine in dress uniform as I passed the USA Today newsstand. Had I looked closer my hair would have stood on end. I had listened to reports of the Panama invasion and knew precisely what the picture meant. He was the first soldier killed, within ten minutes of the invasion. Two weeks later when I returned to the East Coast the landlady told me the phone had been ringing constantly for two weeks. Sure enough here it was again. "Did you hear about______." "No," I said. "Remember what you told him"? He joined up the morning after Prom night when in a drunken boast they dared each other to meet at the recruiting office in the morning. He tried signing up as a mechanic, but was told he could transfer when an opening came along. Toward the very end he tried transferring from infantry to mechanics. As an old friend of the family (former Mennonites), I had a long private discussion with him about his soul the last time we met. He kept flicking his cigarette and kept smirking carelessly, "I'll be alright." "A soldier headed for the trenches shouldn't mock," I said. "I'll be alright." There were no wars on the horizon, and he was already looking forward to getting out. I stopped by to see his parents some months after he was killed and mumbled my way through the saddest visit of my life. He was the only son and they tried to wring some comfort from a personal call from President Bush, a Congressional Medal, a building named after him at Quantico, and the foxhole letter that soldiers have written since the beginning of time when they are told they are going into combat. There are no atheists in foxholes, and no conversions, for a man converted against his will is a man unconverted still. I didn't tell them anything they didn't want to hear, but my sense of dread only deepened. All I could think of were the words "Remember what you told him?" And, "The summer is ended, the harvest is passed, and we are not saved." "God is not mocked." This warrant is pure hate from beginning to end. My last words to this wicked man eight years ago when he said he would mention me to the Sheriff and asked, "What brought you here," were: "God brought me here." "Let God be true, and every man a liar." Jezebel, too, was a widow. She's listed as A, and I have no clue what A stands for. God does, and "God is not mocked."

4. As you can see from the revised warrant the police state that

a. I planted the trees (and have been thinning them constantly, because they are no more than saplings that I plucked from the cracks in my driveway and stuck back there) and built the sheds when the city owned the property. When property exchanges hands, the first order of business is to mark the boundary lines. All of us were back there, because we cleaned it out to be rid of the skunks. The other park renters are even further back than I am. So why did the city of Volga expose us to legal and physical jeopardy by not giving us notice that they were selling the land on which our property was? This is criminal negligence. Were the sheds still mine after they sold the land under them? If so, then why not the trees which I planted next to them, precisely even with the sheds. One phone call to the City of Volga byby either the police or State Attorney would have given them pause. They were quick to get estimates at tax payers' expense, but were careful not find or see anything that might thwart their purpose. And someone verified all this "Under Oath" as you read in the documents. You cannot separate the trees from the sheds here. Did the city of Volga sell the trees and not the sheds? Because they occupy precisepreciselyly the same ground. Why am I not charged for stealing the sheds? But if the sheds were on trespassed ground than I have been trespassing for 25 years. And why did the city never tell us where the property line was. There are no signs there anywhere and never have been. It was a no man's land until I tamed it, and City employees were back there every week, only too glad that were were doing their work for them in keeping the skunks down. Yet they never said anything. And now it's an industrial park. If there are trespassing signs anywhere they must be well hidden. The whole town goes through there as you would a Walmart parking lot. A five your old would understand this. And now the City of Volga gets to wash its hands off all of this?
b. The Government taxed me on those sheds for 25 years exactly where they were when I moved them (ask John who works at the Courthouse--it's quite a story). What's the first rule of property assessment? The ground underneath. So if the government taxes me on a building, why would I not assume that it sits on legitimate ground? Because they assumed what we all assumed: that they were on legitimate ground. But if the trees are not, then neither are the sheds. In which case the city sold my sheds without telling me. And they knew those sheds were there from the beginning. The police have access to all these records, and one phone call would have put an end to all of this. A five year old could make sense of it. But they did not call. And to this day (unless they now covered their tracks) they not so much as contacted the only person who was with me the whole time while I was committing the crimes on the Warrant--the only material witness. Someone lied under oath. I can prove that in less than a minute. Notice that I am said to commit "crimes." If those are crimes then one of the criminals is on the loose. And I have proof that what you read here has now been read by every branch of the South Dakota Government, Judicial, Legislative and Administrative. They have branded me a criminal. But the whole neighborhood knows there were two of us every step of the way. Is the Government prosecuting a crime here, or persecuting a person?

Have now been banned from Facebook and most other media outlets. Reddit banned me permanently six month ago, but I was able to get through yesterday under disguise. All I did was post a link to my homepage with a small title. It remained up for 15 minutes, and I watched my site tracker explode like an avalanche (it was the only non-banal thing on there). Now I'm on deep ban: their computer blocks my computer's signature. A few people flagging you can get you blacklisted. This is how they will ultimately blacklist the Bible as "offensive" or "inappropriate." The Government doesn't have to censor you if para-government platforms are allowed to. Information (and the Bible is now dis-information) is now considered a threat to democracy, because people are deemed as either incapable of exercising private judgment, or dangerous if they do. By censoring opposing views as dangerous disinformation, they are determined to get everyone to think uniformly, and reduce them to a state of infancy (they don't seem to get the shockingly embarrassing irony here--that super-enlightened Progressive thought has become so flabby that it is terrified of diverse opinions--they are a national health and security threat, they cry. They have become incapable of printing a sentence without running it through their self-imposed censorship. Like the Senators to Sulla: "Tell us how how you would like us to legislate so that we may legislate according to your wishes--i.e. to keep you from killing us." When Constantine imposed an ironclad standard on the Church, it created a horde of outcasts among the Germanic Arian Vandals who not long after sacked Rome. The First Amendment is a venting mechanism to preempt dangerous ideas from gaining ground by going underground-- or end up in stadiums. Like the Left said in the 80's when the Right tried to clean up television: "If you don't like what you see just turn it off." When I was in the schools, the curse of group-think was already so pervasive that it was impossible not to notice the onset of (to put it mildly) a creeping mental retardation, and I seriously doubt that anyone can sit four years under them now without suffering long lasting, if not permanent, brain damage (the horde of advanced degree activists are in this category--they are more incoherent and less original than Wikepedia). This is the Dictatorship of Propaganda. The Internet is becoming worthless (empty chatter of non-speak--people are afraid to have an opinion) because the Government allows depraved Para-Government monopolies to act as gatekeepers of the First Amendment, and we're no doubt headed back to the future of stadiums. Trump is ahead of his times. But if stadiums become vehicles of disinformation, the right to assemble will have to be curtailed in the interests of national security. They've had their eye on the church service for a long time, the hoary head of the Patriarchy, the root of all ills and discontents. Germany is not mandating the Covid-shot. But it will soon severely restrict your level of participation in society without it (basically home confinement). All it takes to starve you is to take away your ability "to buy and sell." People see a sinister camel's nose in the Covid-mandate, an eerie sense that the Anti-Christ will be welcomed and enthroned on the back of a national emergency. This is maddening to Washington, but most Covid-Refuseniks see horns on Fauci's head (cutting age science stymied by Dark Age superstition). The prevailing doctrine is that modern crises demand immediate concerted action--the Romans would have appointed a Dictator long ago. What hinders? Specter of the Beast Angst coming from the churches. But how long can the world wait?

(Full details below). I was tortured by the police last night--everything you read here has been in the hands of the Brookings Police and State Attorney since 6/30/21, and I have proof that it has been read by all branches of SD Government, and major newspapers (they're too afraid to print). For a Government official to know of a Federal crime and not report it to the Federal Government is a Federal crime. After 8 years of police terror, I was this evening (6/29/21) tortured by the Brooking County Police Department. I went to town to deposit a check at BankStar Bank in Volga, and was standing in the lobby filling out the form when the police entered and screamed for identification. I said, "the law doesn't allow you to arbitrarily demand identification from an American citizen.” There has been a burglar alarm, they said (if this is true, it's a summons to Esther's banquet--if not, it will only compound their evil. They laid violent hands on a righteous man. "Touch not mine anointed, and do my servants no harm." The CIA would tell you that what they did to me was torture. My heart would have given out in minutes in that hot torture box. I couldn't sit with the handcuffs cutting into my wrists, and my knees up to my chin, and in the stifling heat, my heart beat so furiously I screamed--this is why so many people die in these situations--the body self-destructs), and you're acting suspiciously. The lobby is enclosed entirely in glass and they could see from their vehicles outside that I was only doing what every American citizen does every day. I didn’t give them identification, and when I stated my rights they laid violent hands on me (right in the bank), brutally handcuffed me (because they said I looked suspicious), humiliated me in front of the whole town, put me in a box where I thought I was going to die, and hauled me to town where they chained me to a bench for hours. If the New York Times found out that the CIA did to a foreign terrorist in a foreign country what the police did to me in broad daylight on main street in my own bank, the country would be in an uproar. The handcuffs cut into my wrists very painfully, and when I asked for relief, one of them kept screaming, "you know what your problem is, you're not listening. Bend over, bend over, so we can look." This all took place on main street and a crowd began to form, thinking they had a bank robber. They thought it was all just good fun, another episode of "throw the Jew down the well,” one more time. Then they threw me into the back of a police cruiser, in a tight cubicle made of plexiglass. It was stiflingly hot, my knees were almost up to my chin and my hands handcuffed tightly behind my back. I couldn't sit, and could barely move, and my heart began racing wildly in the heat. The police had moved out of view, and I began to think I was all alone. With my heart racing like that in the heat I think I would have been dead in ten minutes, and I couldn't see if anyone was still around to help me, so I screamed at the top of my voice. They finally let me out and kept repeating, “will you cooperate, will you cooperate” (I just stood there the whole time, and all I said was that the handcuffs were painful--what was I to cooperate on?). This is what the CIA did to terrorists before they outlawed it. I couldn't bear the thought of going back into that inferno, so I said yes. Don't tell me torture doesn't work. If the Government did this to a foreign terrorist in a foreign country, the UN would be in an uproar, and Congress would conduct hearings. My heart almost came out of my chest, and if this had happened in a remote location I would likely be dead. They took me to Brookings and chained me to a steel bench for several hours while they were laughing it up in the other room. I walked back to my truck in the dark and cold rain (ten miles) on my crippled foot (I wear a boot on one foot and a sneaker on the other). I declined a ride because I would rather walk 100 miles then suffer another ten minutes in the presence of their brutality and violence. I knew God would walk back with me and it seemed like minutes (even today, it seems like minutes). Got home by midnight to feed my sheep, and hobble down to the slough to make sure no baby lambs got left when their moms came home. Will write more tomorrow. "This is the finger of God." This happened in broad daylight, on main street, right in front of BankStar bank where I have had an account for 25 years (they have cams in the lobby so they have a front row seat to seeing one of their customers tortured in their bank). Next time I walk in there they'll pretend nothing happened. You could kill a Hutterite here and it wouldn't make the news. It's been done, and I can show you where the bodies are. Had this happened in a remote area, they could have easily caused my death. They would have left me in the torture box until they were certain I would cooperate. They would have sat in the other air-conditioned cruiser and would not have heard me scream. And the town people thought it was all good fun. They would not have looked out of place in 1930's Germany, with a swastika next to BankStar. Germany was not hijacked by Nazis. It would not have fought to exhaustion if it did not embody the Nazi vision. They collectively wanted to be rid of Jews--the gas chambers were the most realistic solution to that end. Hitler merely harnessed what had incubated for hundreds of years. If you want to understand 1930's Germany, don't look at the Nazis, look at the expression on the faces of ordinary people watching the Nazis do their work. The violent outbursts of their founder had instilled in them a genocidal hatred of Jews (here he stops just short of calling for their extermination). I saw it yesterday, and have seen it for eight years as people looked on while the police have terrorized me. And now I have been tortured. This is now read all over the world. If I end up being George Floyded, it is here for all the world to see. Have had Nickolas Kristof (New York Times) on the line for months now. Too much Bible here for Nick. If I'm not mistaken, God is moving this to the next stage. Many things have been put in motion by now. Meanwhile, Mordecai the Jew has learned, that "in patience he possesses his soul." I have watched this many times in my lifetime. It may be God's will to ferment this for another ten years to attain the maximum result. "Wait, I say, wait on the Lord." "Though it tarry, wait for it, it will surely come to pass." I can prove that they lied under oath to frame me. They looked at my last name and thought since I never went to high school and wouldn't know the workings of government, they would get away with it as before. The night before, when they tortured me in front of BankStar on main street, it looked like a chapter out of Hitler's Germany, minus the Swastika next to BankStar, within view of the two major churches of the Reformation. This unholy trinity (the third being the Catholic Church) was the main engine driving Germany's first genocide (the extermination of the Hutterites). It was the Final Solution with 100% success. To this day, their creeds cry "verdamnte Wiedertaufer" (literally, "damn the Anabaptists"). Otherwise, these three groups were at each other's throats like rabid dogs. But like Herod and Pilate (who hated each other), they found common cause in an ancient and historic hatred--the persecution and murder of Abel who magnified their evil deeds, and was to them a constant "token of perdition." And here five hundred years later their children reenacted the favorite pastime of their fathers, right in front of the churches that bear their names. I can prove that they lied under oath to frame me.

When I first came to this area, I rented a plot of ground to raise a few calves. The day they arrived, the Lutheran preacher, who lived about a mile away, showed up in a rage to tell me "how things are done around here." "I don't know where you're from," he said, "but you're going to go get insurance just in case they get out." I paid the Danegeld and went and got insurance. Why did he say, "I don't know where you're from," and why was he in such a rage? Because Haman had found his Jew yet once again, and here, in the middle of nowhere, a Jew will get what a Jew has coming to him, because as they say, the law is a donkey, and Washington is very far away. He knew precisely where I was from, and the fact that I would presume to rent a piece of ground this close to him drove him half mad. To have a Jew this close is like watching your house depreciate (here in social status) the minute a black family buys a home in a refined neighborhood in the Deep South. He could have left that out, but he was in the grips of an ancient and historic hatred, and knew he could act on it without consequences. "How things are done around here" is code for "you're being uppity." Now if the local Lutheran preacher is infected with historic and religious hate, why would his church member scruple to call the violence of the police upon his neighbor (Haman the wicked Lutheran terrorizes me with the police because this time Mordecai refused to pay the Danegeld). Or how can you expect the policeman who listens to him not be triggered like he was, with much more lethal consequences? George Floyd was killed because he was loathed, denied, erased long before he was killed. This is a religious disease and preachers will receive the greater damnation both for nurturing and not condemning it from the pulpit. Haman lost control when Mordecai refused to acknowledge his betters. This is a fretting incurable leprosy. Actor Mel Gibson's father is a rabid anti-Semite. The son is Covert-A until he gets drunk, when it comes out in a torrent at a cost of millions. No one who harbors it knows where the trigger is. The police were triggered by my refusal to quaver, and afterwards it seemed as if an evil spirit had gone out of them. Yet no Jew would mistake Haman's rage for anything other than what it is. The ability to recognize it is passed along as well. After the slaves were freed, one of them, who had long known the Rev. John Broadus, the founder of the Southern Baptist Convention, looked the preacher in the eye and greeted him as an equal. The preacher looked at him coldly for "being uppity," until the former slave reverted back to ghetto talk, "yas suh, Mars John." This is what killed George Floyd. Mocked, erased, denied. Spurgeon called him the greatest preacher in America. He did not "hate his brother like Cain" because a black person could no more be a brother than a black woman a lady. You cannot hate what doesn't exist. The gap between black and white was so insurmountable that Lincoln saw deportation to Liberia as the only remedy. Now consider that laws and institutions were created by people with this mentality and you get Critical Race Theory that is now raging here and in Europe. Why is it gaining ground across the world? For the same reason George Floyd struck a raw nerve across the world. He was the straw that broke the camel's back. To this day, many white people will not make eye contact with black people until the black person signals in some way that he knows who his betters are. In slavery days and beyond they signaled this by speaking gutter-speak even when they were able to speak English flawlessly. Failure to do this often causes a violent reaction. It would trigger a beating (and worse), and is a major reason why police lose control and Black people end up dead after being "put in their place"--oops! I saw that rage the other night when I presumed to state my rights, and was thrown in the back of a murderously hot cruiser until I screamed. They would not have done this to one of their own. Uppity-Oops Syndrome is undoubtedly a considerable factor in the disproportionate number of Black deaths at the hands of White police. These deaths are largely unintentional, and are the result of either a greater degree of contempt, or a lesser degree of reserve, toward the dignity of a Black person. Unintentional, but lethal, nonetheless. Did this Lutheran preacher commit a hate crime, because he will tell you he is not a racist? The police are irritated if you even hint at such. If you don't press charges, obviously no crime occurred. When I mentioned that the banker's cows rampaged through my three acres of corn, the sheriff dismissed it as nonsense. "Cows are different," he says. Not if you only have three acres. Rich man's militia, poor man's terror. And here they tortured and almost caused my death because I trimmed my own trees, and show not the least interest in the person who was with me the whole time. And I can prove that they lied under oath to frame me.

The first time I met the neighbor's father he spat out "Huttertooter" in front of an audience before I had a chance to say anything. No one said anything or raised as much as an eyebrow, and neither did I. I walked away, for a Jew, being a Jew, only gets what a Jew has coming to him. He tells me he goes to a Bible study with the sheriff at one of the local Apartheids. I didn't ask what gods they curse there, but they should call it Mt. Gerizim, for this man cannot utter two sentences without saying "excuse my language." But be assured there is not a non-American in either. And I can prove that they lied under oath to frame me.

I rebuked a local Lutheran for cursing and his immigrant wife lashed out and violently attacked me with both her fists. Neither he nor she thinks she's an immigrant, nor that I'm an American, because I call those who don't look like Americans, Americans. His brother, a policeman, he told me in an unguarded moment, refers to such as "people of a certain complexion." He goes around bragging how his father threatened to murder a Hutterite boy checking his trap lines--he does not tell you he murdered himself not long after, and, knowing full well the connection, relates it as a heroic deed. When my sheep get close to their fence, I dial one of the neighbors and keep them on the line until I feel safe again, hoping that a phone to my ear will deter them from shooting me, for they run up to the fence and scream like serial killers. They leave violent phone messages which I replay for the neighbors. My neighbors are my lawyers, jury, and judges, I always tell them. And all this is known because I tell everyone. My old friend Professor Halaweish can repeat it all from memory. So what, you didn't file charges so no crime occurred. But I was falsely arrested and tortured over pruning my own shrubs. And they are not the least interested in the person who helped me, because they were told to get Mordecai the Jew, and a Jew only gets what a Jew has coming to him. And I can prove that they lied under oath to frame me.

I had a conversation with an Elder from the Reformed church next to where the police tortured me. He delivered livestock to one of the largest slaughterhouses in the US, and, at shift change, watched with horror as the horde emerged from the plant. "There was not an American among them," he shuddered. "Mike," I said, "those are Americans." "Yes, yes, of course....what I mean...." What he meant was that Americans look like Americans, and think like Americans, like himself. What he calls Americans who think those are Americans I was afraid to ask. George Floyd was not an American, because he did not look like an American. Why was George Floyd killed? Because he didn't look like an American: Loathed, Denied, Erased and Oops!--aw shucks we overdid it, the miscreant is dead, cause of death (heh)--indeterminate. If Evangelical elders act this way, why would you expect anything different from the police who sit in their pews? Is this hate? If this exists in the churches, why would it not exist in policemen who fill their pews? The world consensus is that this strong attitude of contempt, denial, and erasure is the "extra" that killed George Floyd. History will undoubtedly prove it correct, for God is desegregating the world. Babel in reverse. The leper can hide his spots, the leper cannot change his spots. These are the religious instincts of murder and genocide, for great evil needs a powerful host and only religion can unlock natural man's aversion to de-humanization and mass slaughter. Luther's creed did nothing to prevent the Holocaust and 500 years of almost nonstop wars, and untold genocides in Africa. The Confederacy, the KKK, and Apartheid are the handiwork of the followers of Calvin, Zwingli, Knox. There lie within these creeds Satanic seeds that infallibly germinate into violence and murder. The war against supremacist statues will ultimate burn into the very redoubts of the Protestant Church, and history will remember them as the religious Chernobyls of supremacist violence and murder. They are emblems of white pride, of self-worship, and "pride cometh before destruction." And the ultimate insult: God will make Africa the face of the church (They're singing the Apostles' Creed--the amount of doctrine here would give most Westerners a mental breakdown) (The Host in India--unsurpassed, can't understand a word, but can't stop listening here, what timing here, try pulling this off--I believe these are orphans. These recordings will become to hymns what the KJV is to the Bible) and of civilization by century's end. As Africa crowds into Europe, this is the only face of the Church you will ever see again in Europe. It will never be white again. Which is why Africa so agitates supremacists the world over. God decreed that the proud and arrogant will not "inherit the world." Africa had no choice but to be meek so "Africa will inherit the earth." God trades in insults. Man is how God looks in the mirror, and He must like Himself in blackface. By then impoverished Nigeria will have more people than China. God has a monopoly on revenge ("revenge is mine, I will repay"), and He traffics in insults ("He that sitteth in heaven shall laugh"). Haughty Calvinist theologians curled their lip toward "the vile stream from the fens of Africa" whom the founder of the Southern Baptist Convention (Sermongate--NY Times) called "a very low grade of humanity." A low grade of "the image of God." But no grade of humanity can ever be lower than God Himself, for no matter how low, God is still lower, the Lowest of the low, for "underneath are the everlasting arms." Though God created man at eye level (someone to chat with--"Adam where art thou"), the image of God is underwritten from the ground up, for "underneath are the everlasting arms"). Africa is in good hands, and will have to be in the future, because if the supremacists get in power they will attempt to deal with immigration at the source: Africa. And if black skin is the one blight on God's Creation, they are even more blessed, for God packs voids with Himself: "He giveth more abundant grace to that which lacketh." One pinprick of divine grace will outshine the entire Universe. The stone which the builders reject always becomes the head of the corner. Africans, in the eyes of the world, are even less than "the things that are not." "Can those dead bones live"? If you wish to see the Kingdom of God just turn the world upside down and you will have it, for "that which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God." And the other way around. God has moved on, and the world is passing into the hands of non-whites. We were supposed to be the last item on God's calendar, and made no plans beyond that. And now God is obviously desegregating the world. The famous Southern Baptist preacher Criswell bargained that God will not damn him for his loathing of black people, which to embrace, he reasoned, would consign his grandchildren to the inescapable lot of "the damned" (the wretched, doomed to never escape their plight). Not quite "better White in Hell, than Black on earth," but dangerously close. The Southern Baptist Convention was founded on this premise, and is now being torn apart by its inability to demonstrate genuine repentance. Just as Lutherans will never escape the swastika, the Presbyterians the Confederacy, the Reformed Apartheid, so the Evangelicals (the Bible Belt) will never shake the KKK. All are sinking under the weight of their historical baggage. God will now enforce desegregation as a mark of Christian belief, and "many will walk no more." In actual fact: Better White in Hell, than Black on earth. This evil will be judged under the 6th Commandment, and the Luther-Calvins will write the same fatwas that absolved them from the 7th Commandment. To the same effect. The modern church languishes in the grips of crippling guilt over divorce-adultery. If you don't think so and are able to preach otherwise, I can guarantee you stadium packed audiences for the next ten years. People would weep for joy from Coast to Coast. All you have to do is get up and fervently preach that divorce-adultery is a one time act, which you repent of and then have a scriptural marriage. Calvin's fatwas made "the Word of God of non-effect by his traditions." Just broach the question with the remarried couple in the pew next to you, and watch them shrink in fear. And you can do what their preachers cannot?

They would not have done this to a foreign terrorist and expected to get away with it. The town people would not have allowed the police to brutalize a foreign terrorist on their main street with two large churches close by. Had this happened to a foreign terrorists the town would now be filled with reporters. The New York Times would rage non-stop, the heads of state would denounce America at the UN, and Congress would demand congressional hearings. Look at my name and find the same name above in Alcatraz. Find the same name in Fort Leavenworth. This is why they thought they could get away with it. There lacked but the Swastika. SUMMARY OF FACTS HERE 3-31-waiting on the Lord-2021

Brookings County Police Misconduct 1. This rich man committed a felony by withholding from the police that there were two of us (full details below). This is a Federal crime. He talks as if he has the Sheriff in his pocket. That, along with his use of the Brookings Police Department as his own private militia in eight years of terrorizing me, is cause for suspicion. For eight years now they have brought the violence of the police upon me trying to find some pretext to charge me, and now I need an answer from the Federal Government. This will go to the highest levels of the United States Government. It may take ten years. But I will have an answer. Because "they have beat us openly, being Romans." 2. If the police did know (they obviously didn't--see below) that there were two of us, but didn't as much as question the person helping me, then this constitutes a felony on the part of the police department--police misconduct. This is a Federal crime. This police department has harassed and terrorized me for 8 years now at the behest of this wicked rich man who uses them as his private militia. I have to assume they did this unwittingly (just another day of shaking down a down and outer) but to allow themselves to be used in this manner after my repeated cry of "police harassment" (8 years which their tapes will show) rises far above just police negligence to police misconduct. This is what I am presenting to the Federal Government. 3. If the police now investigate further upon reading what is written here, doing so will constitute admission that they now know that the rich man committed a Federal crime in misleading them when he sicced them on me--as he has done repeatedly for eight years now. The police where Sheriff-whispered into a contrived crime to destroy an American citizen. If you read this pass it on until it reaches the desk of Attorney General Merrick Garland. 4. If the police do not investigate further upon reading the evidence provided here and simply sweep the evidence under the rug--this would constitute a police cover-up. This is a Federal crime.

5. The lawyers representing the rich man, upon reading this, are in possession of evidence of a Federal crime which the police may not yet be aware of. Those phone records will reveal much--what was known, and when it was known. For a lawyer not to report an un-investigated crime is a Federal crime.

A Federal Audit will very quickly reveal all this. As I have been telling them for eight years now: don't destroy those tapes (cams), dispatches, internal emails---they will be my witnesses. "Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth."

(full details far below)

2-24-2021--you may have read that the South Dakota State Attorney (#9 below) barely beat a manslaughter charge for killing a man, and, what some suspect, being less than forthright about it. Can anyone believe that a man fending off a charge of manslaughter was called upon to charge a righteous man for a contrived crime? This man is fighting to stay out of prison, and the Government allows him to judge matters of life and death in such a distracted state of mind? "But Ravnsborg said that he will not step down. 'At no time has this issue impeded his ability to do the work of the office,' Mike Deaver, his private spokesman, said" (Washington Post). Few people believe that. He said he thought he hit a deer, but the police found the dead man's glasses in the State Attorney's car. And this man was in his right mind when he charged me? He has now been charged with a lesser crime, and calls for his ouster are mounting by the hour. This is the man, the police who interrogated me said arrogantly--when in my distress I told him he was being led down a rabbit hole to find a contrived crime--"it will be up the State Attorney to charge you"? The State Attorney looked at what the police were prodded to find and immediately branded a righteous man a criminal and an outlaw. Now he has fallen into the pit he dug for the righteous. Lying awake during the night I felt the same relief I felt when I heard (see below) that God delivered me from the hand of the wicked this summer, and caused me once again to walk "the fields which the Lord hath blessed," rejoicing in God's handiwork, and the sheep of His pasture resting beside the still waters. Early on in my Christian life, I learned to "wait for the salvation of the Lord." "Wait, I say, wait on the Lord." "Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress." When I moved to my little farm here, I called it "Rehoboth, for now the Lord hath made room for us" (Gen. 26:22). "This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes?" update 2-20-2024 below Federal Crime. Obstruction of Justice. Police sent (sheriff-whispered) down a rabbit hole to destroy an American citizen--and this after 8 years of police harassment on behest of this rich man (I say this repeatedly on their cams). This is the only crime (a Federal crime) here. Full details below. South Dakota newspapers too afraid to print. Over to you Nicholas Kristof of The New York Times. Please tell everyone you know. I posted this on Reddit last night, and this morning they wrote to tell me that I am now permanently banned. What I wrote must seem so unbelievable, they must think I made it up. You know you've hit rock bottom when you're too much even for what the New York Times calls the world's most "destructive band of misfits and outcasts ever." This after they thrashed Wall Street a week ago. Even the President was only put on probation, pending reformation, by this bunch. It's not everyday that an ordinary citizen gets to make a President of the United States look good. I used the warrant as my avatar, and, when they saw my mugshot, they must have shrieked "this guy's a real outlaw," and threw me headlong from the cave of Adullam. Keep passing on the link to this site. Sooner or later it will get into the hands of Haman, and, if I'm not mistaken, he will suddenly discover that God invited him as a guest to Esther's banquet: the second one. Eight years ago when I caught him ramming his truck through my sheep horns blaring, he demanded to know, "what brought you here." "God brought me here," I said. --------------------------------------

02-20-2021 update below

I Appeal Unto Caesar

The following is for the judge to consider my list of corroborating witnesses pertinent to the trial.

John Heylens --President of the bank--already features in details below (unnamed). I asked the police how trimming his own hedge could get a poor man an arrest warrant, when a rich man's cows trampling (like nobles ruining the peasants in the Old Country) the poor man's few acres of corn gets no more than "cows are a different matter." Historically, custom has frequently made it necessary for the lawgiver is to step down from the bench and assume the role of the preceptor. I ask the honorable judge to put the cookie jar where the little folk can reach it here. If only the rich sic the police on the poor, and the poor simply allow themselves to be ruined rather than call the police, is that evidence that the poor must be criminals? The police tell me, "you never call." Does that make me the criminal then by default? Nothing here makes sense to anyone. It doesn't make sense to University professors who can split atoms and splice them back together again--they want me to get it over with, give them what they want, and move on. But then I get to wait until the wicked man decides to terrorize me again, and get to explain my life to men with guns in my yard all over again. I'm afraid of guns, and of people who are not, and every time the men with the guns show up, the chances of you getting killed rises exponentially. I would just like for the judge to tell me how many more times I need to listen to the police telling me that I have done nothing wrong. Do I need to wait 8 more years of frequent police visits before the wicked man is finally able once again to contrive one of these visits into an actual warrant?

Steve Meyer --City Manager, likewise features below (unnamed): a) this happened on his watch before the wicked man bought it; b) I hope to ask the judge what the police would not answer--why the police are so quick to run a poor down and outer like me through the wringer for a non-event, when matters of astonishing severity among the powerful and well-connected are disappeared--they seemed very uncomfortable when I inquired about the infamous Christmas Party--yes, that Christmas party. When they tell me I did nothing wrong, and I say, "then how is this not harassment," I get no response, as if I'm too stupid to know better. Scare the little guy (what can he do), but give the well connected and powerful the full benefit of the doubt. I'm not the only person in the county scratching his head here.

City of Volga--concerns here differ from #2 above.

Cal Jensen--wicked Haman’s brother. Long discussions with Cal--The bizarre details of wicked Haman’s divorce will shed light on many things.

Three Sheriff's deputies--nothing here but what’s on their cams which I always tell them not to destroy.

Police dispatcher--no more here than a small snippet from tapes tied to my number.

The Sheriff--I have long had friends who know the Sheriff well and they all speak very highly of him. That’s good enough for me. I would just like to know how often a person has to cry harassment before someone notices. How often will the police keep coming out here to tell me I have done nothing wrong every time he sics them on me?

The Game Warden--who showed me nothing but kindness. God bless him.

The State Attorney--people who have read this conclude that the police have been whispered down a rabbit hole here. How is this not obstruction of justice?

Finally, wicked Haman himself. To demonstrate his pattern of evil and wickedness, I shall have to question him at length. His lawyer, if what Cal tells me is true, pulled the heist of the century (at least to those not versed in those dark arts). Cal says he represented both sides. Now how does the same advocate represent both sides? Usually, these devourers of widow’s houses have one hand in your pocket. This fellow is shoveling with both. He jumps to one side and says the settlement can’t be undone, then hurries over to the other side and says it can't be undone. How can you argue with that? You grind the faces of the poor into the dirt, and when the widow cries, you are nowhere to be found. "How shall you escape the damnation of Hell?" Fattening yourselves at the rich man’s table. Cal says he hid his assets. And now nothing can be done.

In the crisis of the moment I had no recourse but to stumble along with "ox-goad" and "the jawbone of an ass" (below). Now, in a moment of calmer reflection, as God gives me guidance, in order to plead my cause I shall have to tie "tail to tail" at my jury trial. As you can see, I have many foxes in hand, and once those tails are tied, “tail to tail,” many a Philistine’s barley cakes will, as a result, become very well done. And I have yet to “bow myself against the pillars” of evil. I have long had the pillars at hand, leaning against, but have had no occasion to “bow myself against them with all my might.“ The day will come when I hope (as God gives me strength) to "bow myself against them with all my might.”

And necessity causes me to tie "tail to tail," because I have been charged with “intentional” evil. Look at the Warrant. Anyone who knows me knows that I have never hesitated to strike at the foundations, and “bow myself against the very pillars” themselves. I am by nature very timid. When threatened, I become so afraid that I run towards danger (like my sheep), and become afraid only afterwards. If I saw a ticking nuclear bomb I would have to grab it and try to undo it before it undoes me (and then sit for two days paralyzed with fear). I have long noticed this in my sheep, and every time I see it I wonder if this is what happens when martyrs go to their death unafraid. The more timid they are by nature, the more prone they are to stamp their foot and walk toward danger, as if their mind suddenly not only becomes oblivious to danger, but exhilarated by the sight of it. They get an impish look on their face as if to say, “and just what do you think you’re doing over there.” Every time I see it, I wonder if that’s what happens to martyrs at the hour of their triumph.

This has been going on since I moved here. Everyone I meet will tell you about it, because I tell everyone I meet. This is how I got to have a long conversation with Cal. Now the hour of darkness has come. I do not see how the judge can refuse my request for a jury trial. I do not see how he can simply run me through the wringer for the thousandth time and simply throw me back into the ghetto to wait until wicked Haman decides to terrorize me again. What I have written may seem long and tedious (like our faithful sheep dog Tony, I’m an infamous rabbit chaser) but if the judge or his clerks will read all that is written here, they will find enough material support for a jury trial. I would like not to be simply processed again like someone the Pharisees would call one of “the Damned,” and flung back into the dungeon. I would like not to have people with guns in my yard all the time. “I'm afraid of guns,“ I always tell them, “and of people who are not.” I appeal unto Caesar.

If you were to gauge your life on a scale of 1 to 100, the minute you see a Warrant for your arrest, your life-threat needle will shoot from 1 to 150 , and then (if you didn’t have a heart attack) eventually settle back to 70. The chances of you being killed by the police increase by that much. You hear, see, feel, and think differently. Your bank account will empty much faster, because you become too distracted to conduct business. You expect people to look at you differently as a hunted fugitive, not quite like “every man who findeth me will kill me,” but certainly in that category. You go from being just “a nobody” to “Cain the murderer.” How could someone who memorizes the Bible everyday, now look in the mirror and see Cain the murderer? This is what a Warrant does to the mind. People call and ask, “ what did you do?” I say, “I wrote everything down.” “There’s got to be more to it than that for a warrant of arrest. You must be hiding something.”

2-20-2021

Nothing new. Haven’t heard anything more. This may all seem like an overreaction to some. But a Christian’s testimony is all he has, "and they have beaten us openly being Romans." That Warrant is like an ax to the head. What am I to say when the Government has officially branded me an "Intentional Vandal in the Second Degree?" Look at the Warrant. All people see here is "Intentional" and "Degree," as in First Degree Premeditated Murder. How is this different from the mark of the murderer Cain? In most people's eyes, an Arrest Warrant is an Arrest Warrant. And they had to capitalize the word Vandal. Does anyone know what a Vandal is? These are the guys who burned Rome to the ground. What am I to do, walk around with INTENTIONAL VANDAL II stitched on my back for the rest of my life like some notorious biker gang for all the world to see? I'm to continue my pilgrimage like this, already "faint, yet pursuing," with "hands that hang down and the feeble knees," and now also "halting on my thigh?" How long before they have "Jacob leaning on his staff?" This wicked man has terrorized me for eight years now, for no other reason that anyone can think of aside from Mordecia the Jew Syndrome (see below). His one and only manner of dealing with others is to call the police--for anything that doesn’t suit him. All the police will say is “when he calls, we have to come.” I tell the police: “I don’t live my life carefully.” If I see something that needs taken care off, I don’t wait for permission to take care of it. When college kids get stuck on the abandoned state road (which he now claims), I jump in my tractor and pull them out free of charge, knowing that if he caught me he would most likely call the police. He used to sit down at the corner with his truck pointed toward my place just to let me know that I’m being watched. Nothing I wrote here surprises anyone. But neither will anyone do anything. And I get to have the police called on me. And they always come. I wrote all this down for all the world to see. I only wrote down what’s whispered in the whole neighborhood already, fearfully. This is pure Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. I could end this very quickly. But I am very curious to see what a judge will do when he reads this. I always tell the police, “a righteous man never has to worry about repeating himself.” A righteous man should never fear a judge. And I am always in search of new ways to open up life around me. If you still can’t preach with an arrest warrant in your hand, you better tarry at Jericho a while longer until your beard is fully grown. Paul could have made hay with this. Seriously, how many people talk from the Bible with an Arrest Warrant at the top of their page? Hypocrite, anyone can say, for “even the devil quoth Scripture.” But there you have it. A mugshot in one hand, the Bible in the other. If anyone needs a reason to discredit everything I say, what else would you need? "What need you further witness?" That warrant makes me a real outlaw and a fugitive. So, anyone could say, “leave there thy gift at the altar, go thy way, first make yourself un-outlawed, and then come...” But no matter. At the end of the day, people still shake their heads and say, “there’s got to be more to it than that---how could you just get a warrant for your arrest for nothing.” That's what I say. No one would like to know that more than myself. Which is why it’s out there for all the world to see. Or, as Job’s so very helpful friends cried out in exasperation: we hear you loud and clear, but “whoever perished being innocent.” Whoever, indeed. Own up to it and let's move on. Innocent people don’t get warrants. And I must admit, as someone whose greatest fear in life is boredom, this is a remarkable venue that promises infinite dividends. Few things in life are as debilitating as writer’s block. But to write with a warrant in one hand and my Bible in the other------. And it does keep me on my toes. It’s like a perpetual fast. Of course, I know that those made of sterner stuff think this is all much ado about nothing. A truce to your sternness. I’m not in your league. I have to meet this head on. And I will keep meeting it head on and in my my own small way use it for the kingdom of God. “What is that in thy hand?” "You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good" (Gen. 50:20). Had another email from Kristof’s secretary (NYT). Too much religion here for, Nick, obviously. His readers would run him out of town. How do I know? I have been commenting in the Times for over twenty years, and frequently get selected in NY Times Pick (avatar Shreir, if you frequent those parts--Krugman should know it well). I seldom get Likes even then. I often wonder, why does the Times pick my Comment when no one reads it? But sooner or later someone will attack my Comment, and his Likes will shoot to the stars. About every two years or so I get totally banned for 4 months on end, when readers simply can’t take it anymore. This would take them over the edge. 2-17-2021

Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times. I received your email. What are you waiting for, Nick, a prison epistle? Is that what you want? If this interests people on the East Coast, why would regional newspapers fear it like a nuclear bomb?

I sent this to all the big lawyers in the area so that they may leave off “devouring widow’s houses” and fatten themselves at the rich man’s table instead. They are the enablers of the wicked Hamans of the world, to oppress the widow and grind the faces of the poor into the dirt. “Woe unto you lawyers. How shall you escape the damnation of Hell?”

---------------------------State Terror in Brookings County, South Dakota (have been posting about this for weeks. You can find the police details in early posts separated by dates. If you read this tell everyone you know: My neighbors are my lawyers, my jury, my judges. "Tell it in Gath, publish it in Ashkelon"). I will turn myself in when I have made a complete record of it here, unless they get me before that. The Warrant does not have a date, and one of my sheep has a broken leg which I must keep tending. "A righteous man taketh care of his beast." That is what God would have me do at the moment. The rest I gladly render to Caesar, even though "they have beaten us openly being Romans." And "these poor sheep, what have they done"? Beside Brookings is now high Covid risk, and CDC says avoid all essential travel.

Update 2-12-2021--wrapped phone in tinfoil (far too cold to leave home without it--warrants are phone tracked--that's how innocent Idaho man was killed several days ago), and went to Walmart last night. Met one sheriff going opposite way with flashing lights. Was glad to see him fade in mirror. Old friends from University called--glad for the support. They want me to get it over with--a glitch in the law they tell me. All well and good. When I see University Professors "beat openly being Romans," I'll do that. The police wouldn't go within a mile of that University without sending an envoy. Like Jesus told the Herod-whisperers, "Go tell that fox." (2-5-2021, 9:00 PM Central Time)--nothing new. Hope to post tomorrow.10:10 PM--Just noticed the 1-21-2021 date on warrant. So they (two cruisers) must have been here trying to serve it on the 22 (see below). I received it by mail on 2-03-2021. This is getting stranger by the minute.2-09--2021

Just read in New York Times of police in Idaho chasing a man with outstanding warrant for "providing false information to police" and killing an innocent man in his own back yard in the process. The warrant you see above would not exist if this wicked man had not intentionally withheld Information from the police. To this day the police don't know there were two of us. How is intentionally withholding information designed to guide the police, not to solve a crime, but, to terrorize his own neighbor--how is this not misleading the police, tampering with the evidence, manipulating the evidence? Still praying that if enough people read this the Lord will change my circumstances. continued (see below)2-07-2021 MAGAMONSTER

Tracks again of what I assume are the same two police SUV’s. This is a dead end road, and no one travels it in this kind of weather.

But why would two heavily armed police vehicles show up at my gate every morning and not Dave’s (half a mile away)? (I will turn myself in this week, and phone before I do so, so as not to give them an excuse to take it to the next level). But why have they shown not the least interest in Dave, who everyone knows was my accomplice? It’s possible that they know that he was my accomplice, but that the wicked man told them to focus on only what he was sure I did by myself. In other words, he would have told them that Dave did not disturb the branches that entangled the sheds. And this is what the charge has narrowed to. When the police first interrogated me, he had a whole list of charges, trespassing, moving a grain auger a few feet, operating my two loaders that I had there, --all which he would be certain that Dave was involved with. So he would have told the police that only I disturbed the branches (how could he assume that?), and to forget about all the rest--because in the beginning he had a whole list. And so the police would have believed him. He interrogated me harshly for trespassing, and now it’s not even an issue. Because a trespass charge would have brought Dave into focus, and he knows he dare not touch Dave. But shouldn’t the police have interrogated Dave to see if he disturbed those branches? They never even asked me if Dave “vandalized” those branches. In fact, Dave has never been mentioned. Perhaps the law works this way. But Dave could tell them everything they want to know. And they charged me without talking to Dave. Or they must be taking the wicked man’s account of Dave’s involvement as sufficient to press charges against me only. Both of us are scratching our heads. Neither of us are lawyers, but as little farmers we couldn’t survive without a lot of common sense. And this makes no sense at all. How can you slander, defame, and outlaw an American citizen without talking to his accomplice? Undoubtedly, because this is such a big man in the community that they cannot imagine that he would mislead them. In other words, what would he have to gain by going after a down-and-outer like myself. So he was only doing his duty by reporting deviance and they did their duty of containing the South of the Tracks--there are no individuals here, only a mass of humanity to be contained, and they are contained by periodically dusting up one of them as a lesson to the rest. This may have been their thinking. Except I now have two heavily armed police vehicles at my gate every morning. As I mentioned before, I have written enough here to tell myself that I have delivered my soul, and am now at peace to accept my fate. As God will lead me, next week I will turn myself in. I don’t think I will contest anything. My neighbors know everything there is to know, and they are my lawyers, my jury, my judges. A fine could be what--twice the damages--perhaps $2000? I can come up with that. I hope I can come back here to care for my sheep--otherwise, I would consider jail as just another adventure in my pilgrimage. The fact that my name is on a wanted poster doesn't register in the least. This is trivial compared to some other things (all of which, if you know me, I have sung for my supper with).

What is puzzling is that so few people think it odd that I should make such a big deal over a constant police presence at my gate for something that makes no sense to anyone I have talked to. You may be made of sterner stuff. And these are MAGA people, the people who want to take America back for God. And I am fully aware that such things should not be said even if you think them. But what have I to lose? Here is what I honestly think (without any equivocation or malice): you would not be able to detect those Capitol Rioters from the rest of us around here (even that horned beast ). Most of them were unthinking bumblers who wouldn’t know their political right hand from their left. But tell them about what the wicked man is doing here and all you get is “ Well, yes…..that is strange... did you perhaps…. wonder why...could it be...did you ever think about… anyway, I have to go, good luck, and all that…” In other words, glad it's not me, and you got yourself into it, and I really don't want to hear more.

Take this Spring, when the wicked man greatly distressed the widow who has a small farm next to a plot he owns and rented to his partner, Intermill. He used to rent that to the widow, who had Dave custom farm it, but took it from the widow when he wanted to punish Dave for being friends with me. And he did not stop there. When the widow's cows got out he kept calling her over and over to get them off his field. You would think that the two richest men in the county would have mercy, and help the widow. They didn’t. As usual, Dave got the call. Dave is a man of few words, and no one has ever heard him say an unkind one. But he was greatly agitated over the widow’s distress, so much that I offered my services and even to supply all the material. But the moment had passed. When the widow with the same last name as the wicked needs help, she doesn’t call him (the wicked), she calls me. When I lived in the trailer park (where I moved my sheds), my neighbor was a widow suffering cancer. She even kept working during treatment. As long as she lived there she never had to mow her lawn, or shovel her snow. I poured a driveway and built a deck for her (I considered it a blessing living next to her, because God had a direct line right next door--”His ear is always open to their cry”). After she left, she wrote a letter thanking me for the many wonderful conversations we had. The high school toffs used to practice football in the street at night, and if the ball hit your trailer it sounded like a bomb going off. I found it easy to vacate to my little shed-cottage out back. One day I went out to find her in great distress. “I’m terrified.” She said. I got in the midst of the gang, caught the football and waited for them to approach. “Boys,” I said, pointing to the city lights, “see that town over there (where the respectable people live)? You go burn it down for all I care, if your parents don’t care, neither do I. But this is our neighborhood…” That was the end of that. From that day on they were in my backyard playing horseshoes with me.

But nothing like this matters in MAGA country. Here everything is done by the book. Name it and claim it. Sin is the shortcoming of all the laws. And the laws do not distinguish between the wicked and the widow. So what if Dave is always helping everyone, what’s that got to do with anything? The wicked man can call him up anytime and threaten him, and no one will say anything. Because the rich man is one of the first men in the community. He harasses the widow, but he’s the first man in the community. “Weeeellllllll…” everyone says, “...I better go.” Why do you burden me with that? Dave doesn’t burden anyone with that. He hops in his truck and takes care of what needs done. And they would rise up if the wicked sicced the police on him for an absurdity. But when he harasses or threatens Dave, people shrug and say nothing. What can they do? In MAGA country you mind your own business. People function in tribes. And they may talk about things other than the weather in their own tribe. But people are afraid of having an opinion outside of their own tribe. If this man went after Dave with the police he would have crossed a threshold. As long as he just threatens and belittles him, it’s none of their business.

All this is perfectly understandable. You have nothing to gain and much to lose if you meddle in something that is none of your business. So there are no repercussions for causing the widow distress. There is no law against distress. Dave looks on, does what he can to to help, and all he will say is “this isn’t right.” When he tells me about it, I get agitated. It was so bad this Spring, I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Intermill needs to get away from this man or he will bring the wrath of God down upon himself, oppressing the widow is like putting a bullseye on your back and daring God to hit it.” But it is legal. And as long as it is legal no one is about to start up a crusade.

Everyone knows he’s doing this. The police know he’s doing this. His own brother and divorced wife will tell you he is doing this. He has destroyed his family, utterly, doing this--ask the police. But he’s the first man in MAGA. Everything he does is legal.

And this is all well and good. As a leading citizen he is always above reproach. Except when it comes to people who are too little to touch him. For instance, my first five years here, the cows from his pasture were always out trampling our crops, Dave would put them back where they belong in the middle of the night, fix the fence in the middle of a stormy night (he has a very painful knee) without so much as a “thank you.” Once they got out in a storm and rampaged through my corn. I only have three acres. When I saw the damage next morning, I called Dave and asked, “Does this happen a lot”? “All the time,” he said. “I better put up a fence,” I said, and spent two days putting up a fence. All the neighbors know this. I told the police this when they interrogated me. “Cows are different,” he said. Not when you only have three acres, I thought. So here he is investigating me for freeing my buildings for which I had permission, and he glibly dismisses the notion that my trampled corn would have any bearing on the situation. Admittedly, there is nothing in the law that says it does. There is no law of mercy, or kindness. Of course, the law says I could have sued for damages. But why would anyone not rather lose thousands of dollars than poison the neighborhood by bringing the violence of the law and police upon a neighbor. I told this wicked man the first time I caught him ramming his truck through my sheep with horn blaring: “I will give you my farm, if that’s what you want.” When I worked for a big farmer, and people from the city came asking to hunt, the answer was always the same: “Nobody hunts.” Every time I heard that, I said to myself, “If God ever gives me land it will be “‘everyone hunts.’” My motto is well known. “Tell everyone you know that they can hunt on my land.” The whole world can hunt on my land. “Nice trick,” some say, “but you only have twenty five acres.” “No matter,” I say, “when it’s full, I’ll ask God for twenty five more.” And the truth is, I would for that purpose not wish for more (I could use a few more acres for grass), because then I would be tempted to horde. I tell hunters, don’t break a leg, because I’m not insured and if you sue you’ll end up with the farm, because I will not counter sue.

Now, when I talk like this the police think I’m either a lunatic or a fool. Which is probably why they see no harm in running me through the wringer one more time. The village idiot. When I ask farmers, "If someone would give you ten thousand acres, would you take it" ? They know it’s a trick question, but they think it’s lunacy nonetheless. And if someone gives you fifty thousand, or a million? Now they get bewildered. Because, they suddenly realize, they are unable to draw a limit on an insatiable treadmill--the rat race. Several days ago I had a call asking if I was buying tickets for the billion dollar lottery. "If someone gave me a ticket with the winning numbers on it, I would burn it," I said. Very funny, he thought. I would burn it. I would not touch one penny of it.

But back to MAGA. If you know that the wicked man harasses widows, yet keep mingling with and talking to him in polite society as if he's a good person, are you not giving him cover to go after his next victim? Because everyone knows about wicked Haman, and everyone is willing to discuss his evil--in private. continued (see below)2-06-2021

Briefly:

1) There were two of us. The wicked man hid this from the police. It is the key to understanding Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. Why have the police not so much as talked to Dave? Before you defame, slander, and outlaw an American citizen, shouldn't you at least question the person who was his accomplice?

2) I had permission to move those buildings from the wicked man’s partner: Intermill. I mentioned this to the neighbors long before all this, not because I thought it was significant, but only to remark on the tone of voice Intermill used. Any neighbor would bend over backwards to accommodate such a trifle. My phone records will bear out that I talked to Intermill shortly after I moved out here almost 9 years ago. It was the first time I called him, and I had no other reason to do so.

3) I built those sheds when the city owned that property, and the shrubs are shoots that I stuck in the ground and trimmed for 25 years. To move the sheds I had to disentangle them. This the wicked man tells the Attorney General is intentional vandalism. But then I have been an intentional vandal for 25 years. Those sheds and shrubs are either on the right of way or too close to the property line. They will now be dozed away. The police can see this. Yet they found cause to charge me.

4) Ask any person in the whole county if Dave and I did anything but what anyone else would have done. I saved him (the wicked) the trouble of clearing that thicket. I loaded everything, hauled it out here, and burned it here. Everyone else would have considered it a favor. Had Dave thought otherwise, he would never have participated. This is how we work everyday. It’s as if a neighbor has access to a loader to clear his driveway, and out of the goodness of his heart does yours because he thinks he’s doing you a favor, and you call the police because he accidentally drove on your frozen lawn. He would feel numb from head to toe. For 18 years I pulled rubbish out of that alfalfa field without telling them (the wicked). Many people know this. I told this to the police. There was no property damage here at all. Those are worthless shrubs which he will now bulldoze. I planted them, they entangled my buildings, which Intermill gave me permission to move. If he wanted compensation I would have gladly given him what he wanted. The first time I caught him driving through my sheep horns blaring I told him I would give him my farm if that's what he wanted. But he needed an excuse to destroy me with the law. And that the police should be so ready to accommodate him, after repeatedly coming out here for eight years on his behest to find nothing wrong. How is this possible? The police knew that they were investigating an absurdity. This must be going on a thousand times a day all over the country to people who simply accept their fate without questioning the process. Such is the depravity of politics. The rich can terrorize you on a technicality. This is how “they devour widow’s houses.”

Those two police SUV’s must have been here again at the gate. Like before, one stopped, the other went down to the dead and turned around. I didn’t hear anything. Don’t know if they’re wary of coming into the yard or what. I keep telling them, “I’m afraid of guns and of people who are not.” But they would have to believe that the opposite is most likely true.

I think I have said all there is to say. All I ever intended was to leave a full record for all to see. There should be enough here for God to use, should He choose to do so. My neighbors are my lawyers, my jury, my judges. I feel as if I have delivered my soul. I really can’t tell if God would have me turn myself in on Monday, or let them come arrest me. When I don’t have clarity, I usually find it best to wait. It’s like fasting. Good for the soul, and certainly more to the point: I have no choice. Like Job said, “thou hast put a hedge about me.” Little did he know that God had merely removed two, but denied Satan access to the third. And it is quite possible that I will get my beard singed, and that the wicked man will humiliate me thoroughly. That too will be good for the soul. And my little farm is Jericho enough for me.

continued (see below)2-06-2021

Mordecai the Jew Syndrome

The time has now come to get to the heart of the darkness. What we have here is Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. Most of the neighbors will tell you that what’s going on here is Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. Fathi (although he would prefer to state it differently--and if what I have been telling him for eight years is credible) would call this Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. I have told the police that what we are dealing with here is Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. If you are familiar with Mordecai the Jew Syndrome everything below will make perfect sense. If you don’t think there is such a thing as Mordecai the Jew Syndrome, then everything I have written so far is no more than an excess of legal depravity. It’s ten dogs wearing themselves out chasing their tails, a circular firing squad consisting of the police, the Attorney General, and the government, all blasting away at a black hole in the center where, they have told themselves, I’m committing my nefarious deeds.

Astronomers were long puzzled by an enigma in outer space. Areas of empty space surrounded by galactic chaff and debris. Then Einstein began muttering about black holes. Suddenly everything made sense. Ignorance had led astronomers down a celestial rabbit hole. What they had told themselves were innocent patches of empty space were actually the most powerful forces in the universe. That galactic chaff was a motley crew of celestial fugitives desperately trying to avoid their ultimate fate: being devoured by a monster so dark that not even light can escape: the very “blackness of darkness forever.” It’s the Mordecai the Jew Syndrome of outer space.

If you don’t accept the notion of black holes, good luck with all that galactic debris chasing its tail swirling around them. If you don’t believe there is such a thing as Mordecai the Jew Syndrome then what you read below is just so much confused legal chaff and debris. In trying to explain the Warrant (above) in legal everyday terms, I fully understand that I look like the giant trying to wrestle himself to the ground (most have seen the statue), when all he’s doing is tying himself into knots. It’s all legal, political, social depravity--endless chatter and verbal debris. I worked it as long as I could--but for the sake of my own sanity I must give it a rest. I’ve been running around in circles now for the better part of two weeks, and I’m no closer to the end than when I started. I can’t make brick without mud and straw. I have been trying to create something out of nothing, and quite frankly, I’m surprised that I was able to keep sifting worthless chaff for this long. So enough. I’ve been dancing around the issue long enough. So let me speak plain. I spoke plain with the police. What is going on here is Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. Most of the neighbors will tell you that what’s going on around here is Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. And only God can deal with Mordecai the Jew Syndrome. I don’t bow to Haman. Haman knows I don't bow to him. The neighbors all know that I don’t bow to Haman. Fathi has known for 8 years that I don’t bow to Haman. The police have known for eight years that I don't bow down to Haman. But Haman expects the Jew to bow down to him. He was raised to expect the Jew to bow down to him. And all his riches are but bitter dregs, because he cannot avoid seeing Mordecai the Jew every day. This everyone knows.

So you have only yourself to blame, you say. That is absolutely true. Yet, I have never looked for trouble--I abhor strife and conflict. I would spend my days reading my Bible, playing my guitar, and watching my sheep. I have never had ambition, have nothing to prove, and have always been as rich as I want to be. People who know me know that I “dress down” as they say. I could never figure out why anyone would draw attention to themselves. I cannot remember a time when I have not felt blessed. I won't know what it would mean to retire, because I’ve never really done anything to tire. Frankly, from the moment my dear Mother let me loose every morning at the foot of Mt. Glacier, I feel as if I have been playing all my life. By the time I was twenty five I had exceeded my wildest expectations, and would have been content from then on to simply sit in a corner and watch the world go by. Why would I stick my head out?

From the very beginning of my Christian life I made it a rule never to pack the slightest grudge. It’s the best thing I ever did. Once I read “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” I said, so God wants an absolute monopoly on grudges--who am I to quarrel? More time for me. I can use that time reading my bible, playing my guitar, etc. If God absolves you from something that could easily find you roughly used, why not take it? This makes sense from a purely selfish point of view, because some people think they have to worry an injustice (or slight) into a tumor lest they become complicit in evil. Absolutely not. Say what needs to be said, and go back to your play. Let God deal with it. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s what I tell my sheep. Keep that nose in that fat clover--I’ll do the wolf watching around here. Say what needs to be said, and if they singe your beard, you get to relax in Jericho until your beard is fully grown. More freebies, what's not to like? From then on it’s none of your business. Let David sort it out. Why would I wear myself out needlessly? I want my sheep to enjoy the overrunning cup. The joy of the Lord is their strength. Why would I waste my time trying to peer into black holes, when I can look at the stars?

Yet, as Job says, until the saints may rest from their labors, ”man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.” “I was not at ease, neither had I rest, nor was I quiet---yet trouble came.”

continued (see below)

2-5-2021

Just had a call which I didn’t answer: Googled it and it is the police.

Had to run errands in town yesterday. I kept to the back roads and alleys, as you would expect of a fugitive. I see no reason to hurry off to be arrested and post bond. One of our neighbors died recently of Covid, and both Dave and I are leery of that Covid infested jail. Perhaps I will go in after I get my shot. Unless they find me first.

If wicked Haman the Magagite gets impatient, he may force their hand and they will have to haul me off to prison. Politics is the rule of expedience and impatience. Haman needs to expedite life so he can enjoy his profits. Meanwhile, Mordecai sits and bides his time in the Kingdom of Patience (“the kingdom and patience of Christ” Rev. 1:9), amidst the raging hustle and bustle of the “to and fro” (Daniel 12) “go to’s" (Gen.11) of the kingdom and impatience of Caesar. With Abraham he whiles (Cain would say “wastes”) away the days “waiting on the Lord” (“wait I say, wait on the Lord), while vexed Lot busily expedites business in the administrative gates of Sodom (he forsook pilgrimage for politics, and ended up a captive, a widower, a caveman, and the father of his own two grandsons). God, after that happy visit with Abraham, did not go down to Sodom, a place where “angels feared to tread”--you can cut the tension with a knife the minute they enter Sodom. Meanwhile, Abraham wears out the sands of time, one promise at a time. The Kingdom of Patience was building the House of God (“whose House are we”), one painstaking brick at a time. But Lot had enough of the desert. He thought he had found a way around “enduring to the end.” Even in heaven, the saints cry “how long” until “time will be no more.”

Haman the Magagite is the first man in the Persian government, and the most impatient of men. His ancestor was the very same Agag, the Amalekite, whom Saul (of Kish) spared, whom God had decreed to destroy. Amalek was such an inveterate enemy that he's the only foe to ever fight Joshua to a standstill, and were it not for the intercession of Moses-Aaron-Hur, Joshua would have been defeated.

Saul of Kish was supposed to exterminate the entire nation of Amalek. It is fitting then that another descendant of Kish, Mordecai, would step into the breach and finally deliver Israel from this deadly scourge constantly at their heels. Like Hannibal, who was raised to hate Romans, hating Jews seems endemic for Amalekites. In earlier times they were “the first among nations,” only to be cast from their perch by Israel. Yet, although severely diminished, they remained a constant threat to Israel, and, by treachery, seemed to find it easy to remain close to the centers of power. As, when the Philistines defeated the army of Saul, an Amalekite just happened to be there to snatch his crown and royal insignia with which he hoped to ingratiate himself with the new King of Israel. And now Amalek threatens again with Haman's meteoric rise to the top, and Mordecai knew it was only a matter of time. When he saw Haman, he saw what Samuel saw in Agag when he hacked him in pieces, extreme as that seems. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Amalekite would come out in Haman. And when he saw his niece Esther elevated, he couldn’t help but see the hand of God. Now God begins to draw Haman. Mordecai is the bait. Esther will spring the trap.

After a drunken orgy of 180 days, the king, undoubtedly bored, decided to up the ante by displaying his chaste wife to the drunken lechery of his leering guests. (The greatest man alive, John the Baptist, was sacrificed as the result of Herod’s lechery on a similar occasion). "The heart of the king is in the Lord's hands," but they are often toppled by their baser instincts. Consequently, Esther is now put in place to checkmate Haman. Mordecai will not have to wait for long.

Haman is rapidly promoted to the highest office. What could go wrong? He can now throw caution to the wind.

To bow to the Jew’s mortal enemy would most certainly constitute sin in Mordecai’s mind. Here now Mordecai sees the opportunity to draw God into the fray. God promises, man acts upon the promise, which causes God to fulfill the promise. Sometimes God acts without human participation, but, for the most part, it takes man to act upon the promise that causes the hand of God to move: “I being in the way, the Lord led me.”

The mandate for a believer is to make things on “earth as it is in heaven.” When you see the rich devour the houses of widows, pray that the hand of God will impose his will upon the evildoer so that the situation on “earth becomes as it is in heaven.” Match the promises of God in the Bible to events on earth, and pray that God will align them with his will in heaven. This is how the Kingdom of Patience of Christ marches on (it is the exact opposite of politics--the kingdom of impatience of Cain--Cain was the first politician, the first king). When every jot and tittle of the Bible has been aligned to heaven (fulfilled), the kingdom of God will have come in its fullness. Meanwhile, the kingdom of patience marches on, one jot and tittle at a time, line upon line. Slowly the house of God (“whose house are we”) takes shape: Abel was a nail, Abraham a board, Moses a shingle, etc--in the end even the giants are barely visible as God "tempers the body together.” When the house is complete, the part Mordecai is about play will constitute about an atom.

He knows what the Word of God says about Haman, and that God executes his Word through man’s participation. He acts accordingly. A Jew is not to bow to an Amalekite. That is the word of God. Consequently, Mordecai refuses to bow to Haman. This is called obedience to God. Now God may or may not act. But since you don't know, you have only one choice but to obey. God chose not to save Abel. Often “the wicked have no pains in their death.” But the kingdom of God will not come until every jot and tittle is fulfilled. And those parts of the jot and tittle which need human participation will delay the coming of Christ until someone takes hold of the promise and allows God to fulfill it. Name it and claim it. That is absolutely true. Wherever you can say, that over there is not like it is in heaven, you must demand that God make it as it as in heaven. How do you know how things are in heaven? Things in heaven are precisely the way they are in the Bible. Name it in the Bible, and claim it on earth. “My word shall not come back void.“ The death of Abel may look like a great void. But Abel is part of the House, whose house are we, and God was at home with Abel when Cain slew him (Imanuel). Every act of obedience builds the house, atom by patient atom. The kingdom of patience is an endless accumulation of patient atoms, hardly noticeable in its growth. Which is why men like Lot get a hankering for the drama of politics. Politics gets things done, immediately. Mordecai was about to see a lot of fireworks. But in the larger scheme of things, in terms of the actual building, they would not be distinguishable from his other daily habits of “water cup” well doing. . In fact the drama that we see in his triumph over Human was made possible by a life of obedience. “Walk before me and be perfect.”

Police not here yet so I better post this while I can. I’ll keep posting all day.

continued (see below)

2-03-2021

To summarize:

The government has now issued a warrant for my arrest, as you can see. They have turned 8 years of police terror into an actual charge thus making me a fugitive and a criminal. But note:

1) There were two of us. But wicked Haman withheld this evidence from the police and gave them the impression that I am the only material suspect. This is tampering with and manipulating the evidence, falsifying the record, and obstruction of justice. The police have not so much as contacted my accomplice, Dave, who could tell them everything they want to know.

Why has Dave been disappeared? Why is he essentially in the Government Witness Repression Program? Why would the Government set out to defame, slander, and ruin an American citizen for contrived crimes, while at the same time pretending that the accomplice to the same crime doesn’t exist? Why would the government spend enormous time and money charging me with serious crimes, and show not the least interest in the person who was my accomplice? Why? Unless the powers that be are utter fools, or totally corrupt, they must not know that I had an accomplice. But how come they don’t know that I had an accomplice? Because the person who sicced them on me intentionally withheld that information from them, and set them off on a wild goose chase.

Is charging one person while neglecting his accomplice a miscarriage of justice? How could the police commit such an error? Is it because they totally trust this rich man who boasts himself as a trusted sheriff-whisperer? He played them for fools. He sent them down a rabbit hole of misinformation, evidence tampering, obstruction of justice. They acted in good faith. He did not. He used them to destroy an American citizen, just as he used them to terrorize an American citizen for eight years. It’s on their cams. I repeatedly tell them that this is police harassment. And now he sent them off on a wild goose chase to build a case suited to his purpose. This is legal depravity almost unheard of. And it is in process as I write. In MAGA country. This is a MAGA monstrosity.

2) The State Attorney must surely know that he is plucking at straws to build his case against me? How so? Because, when he speaks of “intentional” damage to property, he can only mean the worthless shrubs I cut back to clear the sheds. Imagine hounding a man for detangling his own buildings from shrubs that I stuck in the ground as twigs, and which ended as a tangled ugly mass which he will now bulldoze to make room for his trailers. But let’s assume for a moment that those shrubs, which we all thought were on the trailer park’s property actually extended over the property line and are thus on the property that he bought from the city--let’s assume they are on his land. But since the trees are on his land, then so were the sheds, because even Solomon couldn’t twin between the two. And both shrubs and sheds were there when he and Intermill (his partner from whom I had permission) bought the property from the city. If the State Attorney has now defamed and slandered and made me into an outlaw because I “intentionally” (as he so vehemently puts it) snipped a few twigs from shrubs which I planted, in order to move sheds that I built, and if the sheds I moved were on exactly the same spot like two sides of the same coin, the yin and yang, warp and woof, why in the name of sanity does he not throw caution to the wind and charge me with grand theft in the first degree? Because you cannot separate the forest from the trees here. They were worthless shrubs entangling a backyard shed? And the State Attorney thinks this worthy of his time, to slander, defame, and outlaw an American citizen? Instead of building a house of straw with a few worthless twigs, why not strike at the root? I removed those sheds entangled in those worthless shrubs. Why squabble over twigs when he can get me for grand larceny? If the twigs were his, how much more the sheds. Which is greater, the twigs or the sheds? Why doesn’t the State Attorney charge me with a crime we can all understand? I took those buildings. I removed those building. Dave helped me move those buildings. Fathi wanted to help me move those buildings, and if intent is a crime, then Fathi must be charged, because he has been intending to help me for almost ten years, and is now sorry only that that he was unable to do so.

Those sheds now sit in my yard, on trailers. I even damaged them a little in moving (unintentionally), but since I moved them intentionally, the damage must be seen as “intentional” and rising to vandalism in the 2nd degree (as the State Attorney argues so vehemently). The police interrogated me right next to those sheds. But how could he miss the obvious? They were still on trailers. What could be more obvious? I even told him I moved them. Now we have a case we can understand. Now we have a real bonafide crime. He has me on cam saying I moved those sheds. I now go on record saying that I marred them while moving. I did not tell him that I had an accomplice, or that a well known professor was in on the whole scheme (but wasn’t able to participate).

3) Now both the shrubs and sheds were there when the City sold that property to wicked Haman and his partner, Intermill. So if the worthless shrubs surrounding my sheds are the focus of intentional vandalism because they came with the land, then why would the same not be true of the sheds?

4) But the City never told any of us where the property line was, and if you go there now you can see yards and firepits all down the line. Are these all Vandals too now? Why not search out crime where you find it, because that could not have been lost to the investigators when they examined the scene of the crime. I doubt the police are even in the least interested. But they could have taken a cue from there and dropped the matter. But Haman is a mighty man in the County, few people can make a move without bumping into his property, and he needs to constantly engage the police to keep the natives in line. The police knew they were there for Haman. They saw the sprawl of all the other trailers on Haman’s property. This is the South of the tracks (north, actually), what the Pharisees called the domain of “the damned” (“this people is damned”). Haman called, the South of the Tracks needed a little roughing up, and the police and State Attorney complied. But the fact remains, if the State Attorney’s charge is accurate, then the City sold my buildings without telling me. Because the police tell me those sheds were on Haman’s land when I moved them. Didn’t they at least have the responsibility to tell us where the property line is (that used to be an old farm site--I cleared it out and put my shed on it). They told us nothing. And now, twenty five years later, I discover that they sold my buildings along with the land. And now they want to hang me for it. They even sold me electrify to that shed for 25 years.

4) I paid property taxes on these sheds all those years. But now the government tells me that I paid property tax on property that wasn’t mine. And they want to hang me for that? If the government taxes you on property, are they not telling you it is yours? And if the government can’t even tell us what belongs to whom, how are we supposed to know? If the government tells you to abide by the speed limit, but doesn’t tell you what the speed limit is, and then fines you for going over the speed limit, are they not the authors of confusion? Can they just hang us out to dry for good measure? Because that's what‘s happening here. Sorting all this out would take us to the Supreme Court and beyond, and if you tried to make sense of in a court of law among rational people, the jury would become so confused they would probably end up sending both the judge and themselves up for 20 years. Instead, to clear the books, the government decided to just make short shrift and hang a peasant. How can the government hang a man for paying taxes on property he owned, and then didn’t own because the government sold it out from under him, but continues to tax him nonetheless? And now, as you read the warrant above, I am facing the full wrath of the State.

I don’t want any tax back. Moreover, I fully admit to moving those sheds that I now discover the city sold out from under me. The sheriff has me on record stating that I moved the sheds. If those sheds were not mine than I gladly plead guilty to the charge of grand larceny. Now we have a real crime. You can hang a man for grand larceny. But how do you hang a man for snipping a twig to move a shed he thought was his but ended up being a shed he ended up stealing?

I have already admitted to snipping the twigs that entangled my buildings that the government sold out from under me. If snipping twigs to disentangle a building a man thought was his, if that is serious enough for the government to defame, slander and outlaw such a man, then I accept my plight. In which case, "I do not appeal unto Caesar."

But the questions remains, did the City sell my sheds when it sold the property? Did wicked Haman assume that the City sold my sheds when they sold the property to him? And why did the city never tell me that the shed was on city property in the first place, aside from the fact that that area was so skunk infested nobody was brave enough to go back there. But surely wicked Haman and Intermill would have known where the property lines are when they bought the property. Why was this never brought to our attention? And how could the City sell land with my property on it, and never tell me? Did my sheds go with the land? Should the City have told me that? Did the government think the sheds went with the land? If so, how could they have taxed me on them for 25 years? And the tax lady did assess them--just ask John down at the Courthouse. (Sorry to drag you into this John). To make a long story short, the State Attorney is so desperate to make a charge (any charge), that he has to contrive a strawman of twigs. He has slandered, defamed, and outlawed me over a few twigs. If snipping twigs is a crime, then how much more removing a shed encased by those twigs. But he can’t make the shed the material grounds of his slander, because that would put the Department of Revenue in the crosshairs. If those sheds are not mine, then how could Caesar have taxed me on them for 25 years. Will Caesar sue Caesar, now? Because now we have the crime of Government theft. For how can you tax a man for twenty five years for what is not his? Let Caesar look to Caesar. If those buildings are not mine, then why was I taxed on them, and why do the police not consider them stolen property? How could the city have sold them out from under me, without giving me the chance to move them? And how could I move them without cutting the twigs that entangled them? Or if the twigs were wicked Haman’s, what happens when those twigs damage my buildings? I had to demolish one small shed that was too severely damaged by those shrubs. Its remains are still here in my yard. The brambles did their work. I assumed I was responsible to trim them but never had time. Now the police tell me had I done so the Attorney General would charge me with "intentional vandalism." So the government taxed me on property that I was not permitted to maintain under threat of law. Because in order to save that shed I would have had to trim those shrubs. But if you don't maintain residential buildings the government will come in and condemn them. So if I trim back the shrubs the government will condemn me, and if I don't the government will condemn the building. Another Catch-22. Who was responsible for trimming those shrubs, because they damaged my buildings? I’m the only one who ever trimmed them. So how is it that only now is trimming them a crime? I have by now, I think ten dogs chasing their tail here. But as you see above, there is a warrant out for my arrest. But the police needed to find a crime, and they found one. Solomon couldn't straighten this out. But when wicked Haman needs a Jew charged, the law must find a charge. South of the tracks, any charge will do. As they say, God will have to sort them out. South of the tracks they don’t know their right hand from their left, so any charge will do. This is why none of this makes sense. There is no rhyme nor reason to any of it. It is pure legal fiction, from one end to the other, and all the more depraved because of its shallow banality. The police came, they saw, they charged. And they never as much as talked to my accomplice who could tell them everything. But he is in the Government Witness Repression Program.

Don't feel bad if none of this makes sense, or if it looks like ten dogs chasing their tail. I'm trying to make sense of nothing. The whole warrant is a black hole of depravity designed to destroy an American citizen. If I get two more days to write, I should have said everything I feel duty bound to say. Once the record is out there for all to see, I may simply put myself at the law's mercy without argument and accept my fate. None of this makes any sense to anyone who knows all the details. But I do feel as if the messengers of Job came upon me out of nowhere, and like Job, I am utterly clueless.

2-3-2021

As you can see the the government has issued a warrant for my arrest. I am now a wanted man, a fugitive like the murderer Cain, hunted and charged by the State for criminal acts. I list all the details below.

continued (see below)

As you can see I am now officially a fugitive from the law. The State Attorney has now officially charged me with criminal acts, “Intentional Damage to Property $400-$1000 - 2nd Degree Vandalism.” Until such a time as I am officially arrested, I am a hunted fugitive. Even if I turn myself in, to a Covid infested jail, I will still be officially arrested and thrown into prison until I come up with the money to post bond. Upon which I will be released until my appointed day to stand before the judge.

This is not to say that I will not go to prison after the trial. If found guilty, I will be forced to pay damages for destroyed property, and the State Attorney will undoubtedly send me to prison for “intentional 2nd degree vandalism.” I don’t know if the damages will exceed the estimate (trees I planted, they never amounted to anything, twisted and ingrown shrubs), or the duration of my time in prison. My neighbor Dave already volunteered to look after my sheep, but that has its limits. Personally, I would not care in the least if I go to prison, but I have to make arrangements for my sheep. "These poor sheep, what have they done"? Here I am, bargaining with God for my sheep, when others have had to consider the consequences of not being able to care for their families. In such times, it is much easier not to be married, says Paul. It would become very easy in that case to find ways to soften the blows. Mordecai knew full well what he was getting himself into when he refused to bow to Haman the Agagite (an Amalekite, the archenemy of the Jews, whom God vowed to utterly destroy). Mordecai was of the line of Kish (like king Saul, who spared Haman’s ancestor Agag). He was undoubtedly an eunuch like Daniel, mutilated to a degree so that he would never have ambition (no one would follow a eunuch), and trained as a public official (the “gate” was the seat of an administration). Much of his family would have been destroyed, eunuchs don’t have any, and he was left to bring up his niece, Esther. Like Daniel, his constant thought would be of the Zion of Old, and here he was a captive made to serve a pagan king. Like Habakkuk when he saw all of this coming, his only consolation would be that he could still “rejoice in the God of his salvation.” But here he was, a captive, mutilated (they said you could always tell a eunuch by how they smelled, they were mutilated to that degree), and now Haman moved against him.

Why did Haman seek his destruction? First, because he was an evil hounder of Jews, and second, because Mordecai knew it, and wanted to convey to Haman that he knew it. This drove Haman to the brink of madness.

The wicked man here sees this whole area as his private abode. My road dead-ends to the south at a government duck preserve, and he considers this whole area as his hunting grounds where he can entertain his rich friends. But you can always find me walking my section of the road. On rainy days this road is so slippery that the mail lady almost wrecked driving it, so I moved my mailbox down to the intersection half a mile north. Add to that, my right foot is halfway crippled, and if I don’t walk it hard every day to strengthen it, it becomes unusable. So now I'm always on the road. This was his private domain, and now he can’t enjoy it with his rich friends, because they're always running into Modecai the Jew walking down to my sheep. And I don't bow to Haman--everyone knows this. I saw the Amalek in Haman long ago. From a child I have had every reason to be on the alert for Amalek, and to detect him long before he gets to know me. This he also knows. People tell me I should find out his favorite beer and go petition him in that manner. Others, that he is enraged because I never asked his permission to walk on the road when he drives on it. How can Haman enjoy the road with a Jew on it? Most of the neighbors understand perfectly well what's going on around here, and of which I will say no more, because such things are best left with God. The last thing a shepherd needs is for his sheep to become wolf watchers. "I'll do the the wolf watching around here, you keep your nose in that fat clover," I tell my sheep. "He that watches over Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps." Mordecai knew what Haman was, and Haman knew who Mordecai was. "Their foot shall slide in due time." Job knew his "Redeemer liveth" long before the Hiobbotshaften (the messenger's of Job) rained down upon him, worse and worse, because God never ceased to be at home with Job. God is always at home, and the saints are always with God.

Ben lives 1 ½ miles from this same Haman, and Haman goes by his place every day. Ben has a lot of stuff, to put it mildly, (but so do many neighbors). Someone in the neighborhood got the county on Ben to decrease his inventory. I had several pallets of lumber there as well (all tidy). Someone kept agitating with the County Commission. Then came the threats of legal action. They threatened to hire a contractor to remove everything, bill Ben for it, and sell his place at auction if he couldn’t pay. Ben has a lot of friends and half the county goes there for spare parts. The county chiefs came out and arrogantly told Ben how things needed to be done. On an appointed day, when they showed up, one of Ben’s friends was there to observe. A week later, they show up again, and Ben’s friend was there again--with a lawyer. The Commissioner walked around very meekly that day, because the lawyer shadowed his every step. After talking to Ben, the lawyer said, “If you want to, I can go after him, I’ve got enough on him.” In other words, Ben could have sued the county. Ben declined, but the county sent him a letter of apology admitting wrong. Months before this, they felt bold enough to have a front page writeup about Ben in the local shopper that everyone gets. My construction materials were named. But since the debacle with the lawyer, they haven’t said a word. But who was it that sicced them on Ben in the first place, and why Ben, when half the farms around here have equal sprawl? And what drove the County Commissioner to buy up a whole front page to broadcast the county’s grievance against this one person? Because they knew they had nothing to fear from Ben, and so they could harass him without fear of repercussion.

This wicked Haman is going after me like Haman went after Mordecai. And now, I am informed that I am in the government’s “warrant system,” charged under 22-34-1 with “intentional damage to property, and 2nd degree vandalism.” I do not know if there is a degree higher than that, but at least, I tell myself, they didn’t charge me with 2nd degree murder, because it wouldn’t make any more sense. I am now listed with all the other criminals, murderers, rapists, thieves and robbers, and all others whose heinous crimes the government lists in degrees. I can’t tell you what it feels like to read that the government “currently holds a warrant for your arrest.” What am I, a murderer? The government has made me into an outlaw. There is no escape. “If stopped for any reason, you will be taken to the nearest sheriff’s office.” Just like that. And this after eight years of repeatedly telling the police that they have become the agents of terror at the behest of this wicked Haman. If you read this, publish it in Gath, tell it in Ashkelon. What are the neighbors to think when they see my mugshot, and read of the charges against me in the paper? My friends at the University tell me this is all a huge mistake, and that nothing will come of it. "I have already been charged by the State Attorney," I say, "there is a warrant out for my arrest, the police are hunting me? Is that nothing? If I sat next to a murderer, would his warrant read differently from mine? Could you live a normal life if the State Attorney has charged you with “intentional” crime, and people with guns were stalking you"? They think that either they themselves, or I, have gone mad. Like the friends of Job, all they can do is sit around me and shake their heads in silence. So here I am, late on a cold dark night in the middle of nowhere, looking at my habeas writ, and contemplating my day in court, like some notorious outlaw beholding himself on a Wanted, Dead or Alive poster. “A warrant for your arrest.” What am I, a murderer? But this the nature of State terror. “I’m afraid of guns, and of people who are not,” I tell people and the police. I’ve come to believe that they see that statement as confirmation of some hidden deceit, as if the opposite were true, making me wonder if I am not a candidate for the SWAT team. The State doesn’t point guns at you when it terrorizes you. The mere presence of people with guns coming into your yard unannounced and uninvited will do the trick. Terror is a state of mind. It is all the more real for that.

I am now in the government system as a fugitive, an outlaw, a wanted man. Fugitives, outlaws, and wanted men are often found dead. Any citizen can now point a gun at me anywhere and make a citizen’s arrest, because the government has made me into an outlaw.

What if they hunt me when I’m in the barn? There have been some very trigger happy incidents around here. What am to do, sit in the driveway all day waiting for them to show up? You often hear of people whose hair begins to stand up when they see the police. If you had been the object of 8 years of state terror your hair too would stand on end. When you hear a car approach you would run out into the open, lest they find an excuse to shoot you. This will come naturally. You will simply find yourself doing it. You learn to live in the foxhole. You call your neighbor when you see the police coming, and activate your phone. When the police see your name mingled with other criminals, they no longer see you as an ordinary citizen. You have become a threat, an element from a dark underworld. This is what terror will do to you.

Once they arrest and profile me they will lock me up until such a time as I pay a bond. How much will that be? Will they take a check? Probably not. But they will keep me in prison until I post bond. Have you ever had to post a bond, I ask people? Only outlaws have to post bonds. You go from being a suspect, to a fugitive, to a prisoner, to prisoner in bonds. And the State Attorney has made me an outlaw of “intentional” crime. The government has already made me a criminal. They see me not as someone who made an honest mistake, but who willfully committed a serious crime. A criminal mind set out to do “intentional” lawbreaking, and “vandalism to the 2nd degree.” When the government talks about degrees of crime, you know they see you as a hardened criminal. What other conclusion could you possibly draw from reading the Warrant? I look at it and say “all that‘s missing is my mugshot and Wanted Dead or of Alive at the top.

You need to take a proactive stance and go after Haman with legal remedies, I am told. In other words, make use of the politics of Cain. I would have a list a mile long if I did that. I did not call the police when my neighbor struck me with both her fists when I rebuked her husband for cursing, When I recovered my balance, I quietly said, "that's a chargeable offense," walked away and immediately called everyone I knew. My neighbors are my lawyers, my jury, my judges. When two years later she raged about killing my sheep in a voice message, I saved it, went over to Dave's and played it for him. For two months when I had to go near that place I kept either Dave of Ben on the phone, because I feared for my life. They will tell you that. Fathi will tell you that. But Haman did not charge me. The Brookings County Sheriff did, the State Attorney did, the Government did. The wicked man told me eight years ago that he would simply “bring me up” with the sheriff (“I’m meeting him in the morning,” as if--we always meet to discuss how things need to be done around here). Haman doesn’t need to waste money on lawyers, hit-men, or private armies. He has the Brookings County Sheriff's department, the State attorney, the government at his disposal. For eight years I have repeatedly said the same thing on their cams: “he’s using you to harass me.” The neighbors have heard me say this repeatedly. Fathi has heard me say this repeatedly. And now he has succeeded in making the government turn me into an outlaw.

And there were two of us. But the government knows of only me? Why would the government make an outlaw of only one, when Haman knows there were two of us? I knew that the police were coming to interrogate me, because Dave, who was my accomplice, warned me. How did Dave know the police were coming for me? Because Haman told Dave the police were coming only for me. Why would Haman call Dave in the first place? Dave is not friends with Haman. Far from it. So why did he call Dave? To terrorize him. But he knows that if he touches Dave, the collective wrath of the county will come down upon him, because Dave is held in such esteem. He called Dave because he knew Dave was with me helping me move those sheds. But the police do not know to this day that Dave was with me. The State Attorney doesn’t know that Dave was my partner in crime. The government does not know that Dave was my partner in crime. But Haman knew that Dave was my partner in crime. And it was Haman who got the police to investigate. He sent them off on a wild goose chase. Haman kept from them that which would have helped them the most. Why? Because, his only purpose in calling the police was to destroy me. The police went on a good faith mission assuming that Haman had been truthful with them. But he gave them only what they needed to go after me. He gave them only what was to his purpose--not to solve a crime, but to enlist the police to serve a personal vendetta against an American citizen. In law this is called conspiracy against an American citizen. He did not give them what they needed to solve a crime. He gave them what they needed to destroy an American citizen. He misled the police. He withheld information from the police. He manipulated the facts to hide a personal agenda, This is what the law calls tampering with the evidence, manipulating the evidence, obstruction of justice. If you did this as an ordinary person you would go to federal prison for a long time.

Suppose two men robbed Haman’s bank. Haman frantically calls the police, and they, thinking they were dealing with a serious crime, listen to him for potential clues to get his money back. He gives them the name of one of the robbers, but withholds the name of the other, The police apprehend one of the robbers, charge him and send him to prison. Later they find out that there were two robbers, and that Haman knew that there were two robbers, but that he intentionally withheld that information, and intentionally led the police to believe that there was only one robber. This is what Haman did here.

I am charged (per warrant) with “intentional damage to property”. But there is blatant and bullet proof evidence that Haman “intentionally” misled the police in order to invent a crime to destroy an American citizen. The police do not know that he intentionally misled them. The State Attorney does not know that he intentionally misled them. The Government does not know that he intentionally misled them. He has played the police for fools and sent them off on a wild goose chase to destroy an American citizen. He has played the Attorney General for a fool in leading him down a rabbit hole of contrived evidence in order to destroy an American citizen. And he is playing the Federal Government for a fool in misleading it to destroy an American citizen.

And this the Trumpiest County in the whole US. I know of only one Democrat in the whole county and sometimes I have my doubts about him. This is MAGA country, and this is a MAGA monster.

But here I sit with my faithful dog Bander next to a wood fire, in the middle of nowhere on a bitterly cold, dark winter night, staring at my own criminal record, forever now branded an outlaw and charged with the most serious crimes, casting about for bond money, making arrangements for the care of my sheep, and a song we used to sing in my youth keeps coming back to me: "Now I'm a branded man, out in the cold." I laugh at the sheer irony. But there it is for all the world to see. The notorious outlaw at Shamblesheep. When things go awry, my faithful dog Bander snuggles up close, throws his head back against my shoulder and gives a woeful sigh, as if to say "but what can we do"? Even he can't make sense of it.

“Intentional” willful crime, a Vandal in the 2nd degree. At least, I keep telling myself, it’s not murder of the 2nd degree. But it doesn't help much. Once you're in the degree category, you are in the category of murderers, rapists, extortionists, thieves and robbers. The State Attorney calls me an “intentional” criminal and a Vandal. Not a haphazard bumbling idiot, but a criminally focused evildoer, crime with the “intent” to commit crime (this is crime in the 1st degree while the result is Vandalism which rises to the 2nd degree). What must my neighbors think when they read this? Only Fathi and Dave are unshaken. The one keeps telling me that it will all come to nothing, because it sounds like an insanity contrived in a horror movie, while Dave keeps telling me “it will pass.” The others shake their heads as if to say “glad it’s not me---anyway, well, good luck”: In other worlds, thanks for warning us (to stay clear until this blows over lest they too become victims). So much for MAGA.

Meanwhile, for the first time in my life I will go to bed as a fugitive, and wake up as a fugitive. I will remain a fugitive until they actually handcuff me, and read me my rights, put me in prison until I come up with enough money for my bond, and then I wait for my day in court when I appear before the judge, where the State Attorney will vehemently lay before him grievous and high crimes and prove that they were “intentional.” How can you expect the judge to show mercy when the State Attorney will vehemently urge upon him the willful and “intentional” nature of my crime? So I ask Fathi, “what is it that I am charged with here that is “intentional and vandalism to the 2n degree.” He’s been on me to move those sheds for 9 years, and always with the reminder that he will help me. Good thing you didn’t, I tell him. Because then you too would be in the government system as a charged yet to be arrested fugitive. He’s a beloved, tenured professor. The whole campus, if not the entire town, would reel in shock. I called him to warn him to expect my mugshot and profile in the paper. How does a man look his neighbor in the eye, when they can only remember your face as a mugshot on the police crime register?

And yet, even as the Government has now charged me with violent “intentional” crimes (on the basis of the police investigation) they are unaware that the other violent offender is still on the loose. Is the government not interested in all violent Vandals who commit “intentional” crimes? In other words, it will suffice to send one bank robber to prison, and let the other keep living the American Dream. This is what the State Attorney is doing here. So, twenty years after, he is asked, why did you pursue only one of the bank robbers, when the whole neighborhood knows there were two? Because, I guarantee you, the whole neighborhood does know that there were two of us. It is only the police who don’t know that there were two of us. And the State Attorney, and the Government don’t know there were two of us. If Attorney General Garland takes questions at your University, ask him how the law requires that only one robber must be charged when everyone knows there were two. Or if the robbers each kill a bank teller, why would the police not be interested in both? Why would they spend endless hours pursuing one, and not as much as mention that there were two? But this is what the Brookings Police have done here. This is what the State Attorney has done. This is what the Government has done. They have charged me with the most serious, malicious and “intentional” crimes, issued a warrant for my arrest, made room for my day in court, and show not the least concern over my accomplice. So only one American citizen gets his mughot taken and spread all over the internet, only one gets to be the gossip of the town, only one goes to prison, his livelihood and person destroyed. As you can see the damage of trimmed shrubs is up to a $1000. Only one American citizen will be made to pay restitution and pay punitive damages. The police will destroy only one of the robbers. The State Attorney seems interested in destroying only one of the robbers, the Government is interested in destroying only one of the robbers. But ask Dave. He will tell you that he was there with me helping me, and that he’s proud to have been with me helping me. Fathi has been trying to get me to commit the crime of moving my sheds for 9 years now (I often had to tell him to lay off--but he wanted to help me because he knew I was paying rent I could use elsewhere). And the neighbors are proud that Dave was caught doing what they say is his only fault (always neglecting his own work to help others). Yet crime is crime. And “intentional” crimes are the most hideous. And now I am forever branded as an “Intentional” Vandal. “Intentional” crimes are crimes considered irredeemable. Such criminals are beyond reform, the violent of the violent. The “intentional” criminal is the career criminal who spends his days honing his craft. If you told any of the neighbors that “Dave” is an intentional criminal committing Vandalism in the 2nd degree, you would hear their laughter two states away. But if I am an intentional criminal then Dave is an intentional criminal. The sword of Solomon could not twin here. And how do the police know that I committed “intentional” crime rising to vandalism of the 2nd degree? I never told them that. How do human beings divine intent? Who is able to see the very springs of the soul, to pare the joints and marrow of mortal man’s innermost thoughts, to conclude that this act was intentional, that one was not? But the State Attorney will vehemently try to persuade the Judge that my crime of Vandalism rising to the 2nd degree was of pure evil. For, ultimately, evil is evil only in its intent when cast upon the scales of justice. It is the malicious, evil, and sinister motive that taxes the minds of great criminologists. It is this depravity in man that separates the mastermind from run of the mill crooks of petty crime. And the State Attorney has charged me with this depravity. If you read this do not fail to tell it in Gath, nor to publish it in Ashkelon. When the government speaks of crimes in terms of degrees, you know you have entered into the innermost dungeon of human depravity. Here you find murderers, and convicts beyond the pale. And the State Attorney doesn't hesitate to charge me with the basest of human depravity. It is the darkest recess of the heart. And this, “intentional” evil, the government now tells me, is the nature of my crime. How do my neighbors reading this not conclude that I am in the grips of some dark malignant depravity? How do you hold up your head in public when the Government has charged you with “intentional” evil? But this is what the State Attorney will vehemently argue. Tell it in Gath, publish it in Ashkelon.

continued (see below)

1-(20-22)-2021

Caesar must have been here this morning, judging from the fresh tracks in the driveway. I wrote far into the night, and didn’t come downstairs until 9:00 AM. The wind created a huge drift right by the gate, and I couldn’t make out his foot tracks from mine after I walked to the gate. Tracks in fresh snow show two SUVS with new tires, one of which went down to the deadend and returned, most likely the police backup. I can see eight miles of roads from here and I kept scanning the horizon all day. People under surveillance are the moose hounded by the wolverine, who grows edgy, can’t sleep, and ultimately succumbs to exhaustion. I’m in the police crosshairs, but was not told for how long. A mouse under the Lion’s paw doesn’t sleep well. I feel the same way I do on a seven day fast--”faint, yet pursuing.” Time stops when the body begins pulling atoms apart in search of food, and the stomach feels like it’s going into meltdown. You have periods of remarkable mental clarity followed by increasingly longer hunger pangs. Watchman, what of the night--don’t worry, he won’t be caught napping? Everything is forgotten the minute you eat your next meal. And for the next few days you feel as if you’ve gotten a new stomach. A writer for the New York Times decided to go on a fast and was so traumatized that she concluded that Jesus and people who fast suffer from an eating disorder. She fasted from morning to evening, less than 8 hours. By that definition I fast every day.

The sheriff was not here for long (the first time), when, unbeknownst to him, he revealed a vital piece of information: he didn’t know there were two of us. And he was surprised to discover that I was expecting him. That could only mean one thing: the person who sicced him on me withheld the most important information that pertains to this case--a first hand witness. After he left, I called Dave to see if he had a police visit: no. (Talked to Dave again today, and still no visit). But the only reason I knew the police was coming is that Dave called me immediately after the wicked man threatened him with criminal proceedings. But if he knew that Dave was with me the whole time, and threatened him, why would he withhold this information from the police, unless he needed the police to embark on a mission, not to investigate a crime, but to terrorize an American citizen? Even if Dave could somehow be made into just an innocent bystander, he was the only material witness who saw everything. And the wicked, by talking with Dave, had confirmation of his suspicion: that Dave had been my accomplice. The irony is, I had gotten permission from Intermill. Dave did not. So if there was criminal trespass, Dave would be the only one who could be charged with it. I got Intermill’s permission when I moved out here 8 ½ years ago, when the property was a hayfield. But now that it’s a business park, the ground is frozen, and semi-trailers are all the way back to my sheds--why would anyone have to ask permission? Dave even parked his pickup back there while we worked. And why would the police attempt to charge anyone for crossing a graveled business park? The city sold that property for the development of enterprise, and put in roads and infrastructure at public expense. Why would you think you needed permission to drive across a Walmart parking lot? Children understand this by the time they are eight years old. How could the police have missed this? They have attorneys on call. A simple phone call would have saved them from running off on a fool’s errand to harass an American citizen.

So why would you interrogate me, and then go right past Dave’s place without questioning him? If you’re really serious about getting the facts, why go right past the person who can give them to you blow by blow? I asked Dave again today: Did you get a visit? No. Would the police visit Dave if they knew he was my accomplice? Every other police department in the Universe would. Would the police like to know if the bank was robbed by two men, if there were two men? And what if the banker, knowing the names of both robbers, gives the police the name of only one? This is what happened here.

The police tried to trip me up several times, but the best way to corroborate my version is to check it against Dave’s. But he never mentioned Dave, and was surprised to discover that I was expecting him. This was a startling revelation. The rich man played him for a fool. Had he known there were two of us, he could have gotten to the bottom of the case very quickly, instead running back and forth plucking at straws trying to make a case of nonsense. But the wicked man is a big man in the community, as all rich men usually are. They are considered informal guides and elder statesmen, the town’s eyes and ears on the ground, so to speak, and their counsel is deemed essential to the wellbeing of the Commonweal. The first time this man ran his truck through my sheep with horn blaring, he told me he would discuss my “illegal” (his word) use of the road with the Sheriff. “I’m meeting with him in the morning,” he said. He said it in such a way as to convey the greatest familiarity with the Sheriff, as if he had the Sheriff’s ear in such a way that his suggestions on how things might be done in the community were not only welcomed but highly valued. I know that people often brag about such things. But if you control the amount of property he does, you would by that very fact have almost daily contact with the law. Add to that, that Sheriffs in America are elected officials. Not so long, ago the New York Times wrote a story about a sheriff who spent 20 million to get elected to a job that pays $80,000 a year. This does not mean that that sheriff was corrupt. You can’t win elections without campaigning, and campaigning costs money. And I have never seen a rich man who did not think it in his best interests to support a candidate. And if you do, and your man wins, you may well expect a certain degree of access. And as a successful businessman, why would any sheriff reject your free counsel? Suffice it to say that no poor man will ever be in a position to be a Sheriff-whisperer. And a Sheriff could easily find his trust abused. Honest men are not easily suspicious. They think all men are like themselves.

The wicked had withheld the most vital piece of the puzzle from the police, the fact that there were two of us. So here are the police running up and down the neighborhood building a case so the State Attorney can bring criminal charges against me, and the information that would help them the most is withheld from them. You would think if the police spend this much time, money and effort, to investigate a crime, they would at least question the person who was my accomplice. The State Attorney will show up in court and charge me, without knowing that there were two of us. Why would a State Attorney attempt to charge an American citizen with criminal conduct without 1) at least questioning the other culprit, and 2) state for the record that there were two actors. The judge is no more than an umpire. But how can he judge, if he is kept in the dark by his own State Attorney, or investigators, etc?

But to get to the point: the wicked man needs to keep Dave out of this case, lest the collective wrath of the community come down upon him (the wicked--his shovel was full and overflowing many years ago, as they say in German). But in eight years of plotting my destruction, this is the best he has been able to come up with. Unfortunately, Dave is a great spoiler here. The wicked knows he dare not go after Dave with the police, so he only threatened him with criminal proceedings in an open-ended manner. But, he told Dave, the sheriff was already on his way to investigate me. In essence, he had already decided how the investigation should unfold: only one of the two culprits was to be found guilty. He was carefully guiding the sheriff down a predetermined rabbit hole. It’s called outcome-based detective work. You know what you need to find from the very beginning. It’s called rigging the jury, manipulating the evidence. In essence, he sent the police and State Attorney out here on a wild goose chase. He is playing the police for a fool. He is playing the State Attorney for a fool. And if the State Attorney shows up in court with only one of Lady Liberty’s hand’s clapping, he will have played the judge for a fool. And it's already too late to backpedal and run Dave through the wringer. “This thing is known.”

This is making mockery of the law, of the legal process, of the courts, to destroy one American citizen and terrorize another. Until fairly recently the law called this “Obstruction of Justice,” one of the gravest crimes against Constitutional government, and a felony. If you did this as an ordinary citizen, you would go to Federal prison for a long time.

After Dave called to warn me, I waited all day within sight of the gate so the police wouldn’t have trouble finding me. I didn’t get anything done because I didn’t want him to have to look for me around the barn, because these cruisers are so quiet you never hear them approaching. I watched till late and then went to bed fully convinced that I would spend the next day watching again. Waiting for the executioner is like fasting--you're good for nothing else except praying.

I have a procedure by now and for this reason. One of the neighbors, an honest, down to earth type, was pulling a grain wagon without lights on a gravel road (we all do that) when lights began flashing behind him. Now an honest man is instantly ashamed that someone would think he had done something amiss, so he jumps out to see what he had done wrong. His blood ran cold when he heard “freeze” and found a gun pointed at him. All the high sheriff could say is “that’s how they are trained these days.”

If you watch the news you never hear of police wounding people. If they shoot, you’re dead. They are put in an impossible position these days. They’re not unlike a soldier sent off to war knowing he may be tried for killing someone the wrong way when he gets back home. People who live in a heightened sense of danger do not think like people who are not. The mind is not normal in a killing zone. And the police are in and out of it often on the same day. They are officers of the peace only in the sense that they keep the peace with violence. The State is the monopoly of violence. Which means that when you see him, stay in the open, keep your hands where he can see them, don’t make any sudden moves, and don’t provoke him. Especially the new recruits. You are not his equal. He will not show up to chat with you unarmed. If you are armed, he will not approach you. That should tell you something. One unintended mistake here will most likely leave you dead. So with the young recruits it’s “yes sir, no sir”, you have me at your mercy, you’re the iron fist of Caesar, I have nothing to prove here, and nothing to gain, the sooner I’m on my way the better (when he stops you, he has you in his cage--you are his prisoner until he lets you go).

One night I was pulled over going east on I-80 in Kansas. As a trucker, that means, he gets to go over all your paperwork--a time consuming process. Got you for 85, he said. Now that part of Kansas is flat as a table. Well, sir, I said, looks Iike I’m about to spend the night here, because that truck is completely computerized, and every second is recorded, and it can only go 65 miles an hour--the dealer will prove that in the morning. Oh, he said. You got the BMW coming up behind me as we went by, I said. In that case, he said, I’ll give you a warning ticket, and finished writing the ticket. He wasted 45 minutes of my time and gave me a warning for going the speed limit. Say one word, and the next thing you hear is “let me see your logbook,” and then he’ll get you to donate $100. His mistake could have easily cost me $100. I got off with a warning ticket and was thankful. I even got a good story out of the deal. Let no good deed go unpunished. In this case, I only got a warning for not breaking the law. It didn’t cost me anything except time. As they say in Africa, “It’s not a perfect world.” Now where was I? I learned this from our faithful dog Tony: driving sheep would be deadly dull if the occasional rabbit didn’t pop up. But back to our story:

Next day, while waiting again in the right place, my phone rings. Blocked ID--the modern version of the dreaded Secret Police. A man with a mask. I don’t open the door to masked men, and I didn’t answer. But instinct told me that the time had come--I was to have a visitor. It was the knock in the middle of the night. The hunter was approaching again. Then another phone call. It was Ben to the south of me. “The Police cruiser just hurtled by here,'' he said, “is he coming for you”? There he goes again, what’s going on up there? But what are the neighbors to think--where there’s smoke, there’s fire…. Actually.there were two in the area--most likely a backup, just in case, so I was already tying up two lawmen. I waited, and there he was. I have known him for ten years.(Oops--another rabbit)

Once he showed up to tell me a few of my sheep were in the neighbor’s yard to the south. I hitch a ride with him (this was 8 years ago), and he waits until I have my sheep (hardened criminals both of them) well on the road. Their crime was they “went” (poor things are only barn broke) on the lawn (keep in mind this is farming country--this was an acreage) and the lady of the house stepping on it, I guess, got mad and called the police. Half a day right there. Now he didn’t just come to inform me of lost livestock--he had to make sure those criminals vacated the premises. (We would need an army division if they did this to every cow that gets out around here). When I got home, I grabbed a shovel and basket, went back to that farm and scrubbed the lawn--neighbors driving by wondered if I had taken leave of my senses). And then I did something that I could have been charged with again. I took the things horribilis and carried them over to the neighboring cornfield. Not, I must hasten to add, while the sheriff was there. Sheep droppings on a lawn are a serious matter, indeed. All in a sheriff’s day around here.

(further digression)

Now these people (about a mile from here) are Jehovah Witnesses. Ever since I moved into the area, who knows how many years ago, I have been a magnet for this group. I must be on their Universal list, because people from Canada just happen to find a reason to stop here. Once when I was at Ben’s sorting my lumber, here they came, four older couples, dressed to the nines, big hair and in a Cadillac. One of the ladies put out feelers and looked for an opening by asking what I thought about the state of the world. “And what is the state of the world”? I ask. “Well, you know, what’s on TV…..,” she said. “ What are you doing watching that filth,” I said sharply. “Noo, no, no, I don’t, but my husband….” “Madam,” I cried, “I suggest you start preaching closer to home, for judgment must begin at the house of God,” She was glad to get back into the Cadillac. But they keep coming.

Now Dave used to farm that plot next to them, and when he makes hay, he doesn’t rest until he has it all in his shed. Once, he was down there at two in the morning, Sure enough, here comes the police cruiser. She can’t sleep with the tractor going on out there. About a year ago another panel of JW’s show up at my place. See that neighbor down there, I pointed to the place where my poor sheep “went” on the lawn, that’s some witness you have down there. “Ah yes,” she said, “the lady is in our church, but the husband--what can you do” --she raised her eyes and sighed --the husband was hopeless. “The husband?” I said, “we like him, she’s the one causing all the trouble”--and off they went again. Once I let them into the house, read the Scripture to them and called them false prophets. Would you at least shake our hand. No, lest I bid you Godspeed, Off they went. (back to the story)

I know you, I told the sheriff. I got right to the point. Is your cam on, I ask? It's on. “For the record,” I said, “this is more police harassment. This wicked man has been stalking and hounding me for ten years and he’s using you to harass me” (I say this every time). No ,no, he said, you don’t even know why I’m here. Oh my, I thought, what else could I have done? “I apologize,” I said. He accepted my apology. The wicked man, he said, “said you cut down his trees, trespassed on his land, moved a grain auger out of the way, etc, etc.” So I was dead on--this was a continuation of all the previous harassment. So why did he think I was ignorant of his mission? I immediately knew that he had just revealed something. The wicked man had obviously not listed Dave as an accomplice, otherwise the police would not be surprised that I knew the nature of his visit. Someone moved the grain auger, I said. Someone moved the grain auger. Was it damaged? No, he said, it was not damaged. But rest assured there’s a great crime in there somewhere--when you visit your neighbor, and come across a trike on the walk, don’t move it without first asking permission (you may have to trespass on the lawn to do so). Unless you don’t mind being interrogated by men with guns. Some people would prefer not to be interrogated by men with guns. “I’m afraid of guns,” I told one of them long ago, “and of people who are not.” “Would you repeat that,” he asked, sure that something had become lost in the translation.

Now all this happened when I moved two sheds from behind my trailer in Volga, about a week ago. What he didn’t know is that the most respected and liked man in the neighborhood was my partner in crime. The day before, the wicked man terrorized poor Dave by threatening him for his part in the deed. But why didn’t the wicked man tell the police that Dave was an accomplice? What sheriff is it that is only interested in one member of the gang when searching out the extent of the crime? If the wicked man is only an upstanding citizen doing his duty by reporting criminal activity, why would he withhold this vital piece of information from the police? Why would he send the police on a wild goose, if he merely wanted justice and to uphold the law?

Because he wasn’t in the least bit interested in justice or upholding the law. He is using the police as his own private army to settle scores. Are you going to arrest me today? Not today, he said. But, the sheriff said, if I go back there again he will arrest me, or something to that effect. He was here to interrogate me and get my side of the story. Here it is. That whole area behind my trailer used to be an overgrown field that was owned by the town which zoned it as an industrial park. I used to ask the town manager (a close friend of the evil man) to sell me a small lot on it for my business. He sneered and said. We need big business here. Next thing I know his friend has it. But years before he bought it, I cleared all that area to make room for my sheds. The rubbish is still to the north, pig feeders, rods, etc. Stan, who owned the trailer park where my trailer is, hoped to buy that field and put another trailer park on it. It fell through. But all this time my sheds are back there. The county taxed it back there, the city knew it was there from day one, all the other neighbors have fire pits and lawns back there. We thought that was part of our park, or at least the right of way. Nobody cared, it was a varmints nest before I cleared it out. I used to walk back there, all up and down the field. They (the wicked and his partner) used to mow some of it for hay, but never close to the trailer park because there was too much clutter there. As I walked I made a trail, and every year they would mow up to my trail. Then I would clear another section, make another trail, and they would mow up to that. The wicked man co-bought it with the next richest man in the county. This man is a big farmer, so he planted alfalfa while they waited for businesses to buy lots. The kids in the park would play back there, and over 18 years, as I walked, I pulled barrels, bicycles, sheets of plywood out of the alfalfa so he wouldn’t damage his equipment. Once the neighbor to the south drove through the alfalfa to get to his trailer and I talked him out of doing it again, because how can you trample alfalfa? Once, on the Fourth of July, I heard “bang, bang” at 2 in the morning. I go out and there's a huge crowd in the alfalfa field having a party. I chased them out. I never told the owners. I told the neighbors then, and have repeated it a million times since this man began hounding me. That was his and Intermill’s field. The police know all this.

When I moved out here in 2012, I knew I would move the two sheds behind the trailer (my woodshed, and tiny cottage shed). I couldn’t in the summer, because I wouldn't think of driving across the alfalfa field, and I never had a minute to spare in the winter. But my phone records will bear out that I made a phone call to Intermill (the wicked man’s partner) in the month after I moved out here in 2012 asking permission to move those sheds across the industrial park. Now, it’s full of semi trailers, all the way up to my sheds. Intermill gave me permission, but said (not the friendliest voice), “don’t make a mess.” I told the neighbors, “That’s not how I talk to my neighbors,” but it's how people talk to those who they are convinced they will never miss not knowing. It's something a person makes a mental note of, and sticks as a warning flag in the back of the mind. “I had permission,” I told the sheriff in his interrogation.

“ Intermill is dead,” the sheriff said. “Why didn’t you get permission from his wife”? Remember the semi-trailers are all the way up to the sheds that I recently moved, and here I am being interrogated for driving over a public park. Nothing was hurt. Semi’s are on every inch of the ground that I traveled. Why would I ask permission again if I had it already?

But now the sheriff suddenly shifted gears: Intermill no longer owns that piece of property (that’s news to everyone around here--so he may have been misinformed). But he had just asked me why I had not asked Intermil’s wife for permission. He had to assume I was lying, and tried to catch me at it. But as I told this sheriff many years ago, "a righteous man never has to worry about repeating himself." No disrespect to him, but I am not convinced that he thinks there is such a thing as a righteous man.

So why did the sheriff ask me why I didn’t get Intermill’s wife’s permission, and then quickly tell me that Intermill was no longer an owner?

All this to discover the crime of being in a public place of business. Even wicked Ahab understood that when Benhadad ( 1 Kings 20:34) gave him “streets in Damascus,” that streets in Damascus came with a host of obligations. When wicked Benhadad said “thou shalt have streets in Damascus, he did not mean by that “I’m giving you the streets of Damascus.” Ahab did not for one minute believe that he was now sovereign of certain “streets in Damascus.” He understood perfectly well that Benhadad was only giving him the license to hawk his wares in certain “streets of Damascus.” Not so long, I was a licensed contractor in Sioux Falls. Oh, you say, so that you were allowed to charge handsome fees, because the fact that the city licensed your craft would be a sign that your craft is of the highest order.

It’s rather more basic than that. In big cities, you can’t saw a board in half without a license. You couldn’t sell a cup of tea in Damascus without a license, unless you did it on the black market, which if you did, would get you a quick visit from Benhadad’s secret police. A license is no more than the right to practice a very low monopoly. Streets in Damascus don’t come cheap. How much, you say? In Benhadad’s case, streets in Damascus were worth a “king's ransom,” because Ahab had just won the war, and God had appointed Benhadad “to utter destruction.” But even at that price, “streets in Damascus,” are vastly different from the “streets of Damascus.” These streets were vital sources of public revenue, because armies do not run on air. After Titus burned Jerusalem to the ground, he was the world’s star quarterback, and the people of Rome clamored for his instant return, because they could no longer bear his absence. His father Vespasian instantly made him co-emperor. As they sat on their tandem thrones, Titus, undoubtedly feeling his oats after weeks of being mobbed by an adoring crowd, said to his father, “the first thing we need to do is repeal that disgusting urine tax” (collected from the public baths and sold to commercial washers). “Hand me a piece of money,” Vespasian told his servant. He handed him a newly minted piece of gold. Vespasian handed it to Titus and said, “Tell me, what does that smell like.” In other words, we may have gained our thrones with the sword, but we will only keep them if we become good accountants. Once the Legions discovered that they had become kingmakers, their insolence could only be appeased with ever larger and more frequent bonuses. Augustus was soon to realize this: “He heard their treasonous cries. He dreaded their calmer moments of reflection.” If you want Caesar to convert your property to the purpose of unrighteous Mammon, you are ceding a large portion of ownership to him for the use of his subjects. That’s the price you pay when you apply for permits, licences etc from Caesar. Very well, we’ll give the right to sell the king’s subjects their bread dear, but here are the terms. In other words, the fact that you are king in Jerusalem, does not mean that you are now king in Damascus, even if you are given “streets in Damascus.” I understood this the first time I read it--and I read it in German. Ahab was not to think that he could treat people on the streets of Damascus like he could in his own backyard in Jerusalem. You may well fine a person for trespassing on the streets of Jerusalem, but you cannot touch him in the streets of Damascus even you have a piece of paper saying you have streets in Damascus. Because if you read the fine print, you will find that when Caesar gives you the right to open a store in the streets of Damascus, he at the same time gives his subjects the right to walk into it unmolested. How can the police miss this?

continued (see below)

1-19-2021

The Reign of Terror in Brookings County, South Dakota

I moved out here in April of 2012. The acreage consists of 25 acres, half a mile north to the intersection, and then another quarter mile east along the road, making an L, with a large block making up the horizontal line of the L. About half of that block is a slough with 3 acre plots on each side where I grow alfalfa. In the morning I drive my sheep down to the slough along the road, and back again in the evening. This serves the dual purpose of wearing down sheep hooves (they’re made for rock), and not trampling the vertical stretch of the L. All was well for the first two years, when for whatever reason, one of the richest men in the county, who lives a mile from here by road, began calling the police every time he saw my sheep on the road. The sheriffs would come out here, and I would ask them what I had done wrong. Over and over they told me I was doing nothing wrong, that South Dakota was an open-range county, and everyone has the right to use the road to drive livestock. “If it will make your lives easier,” I said, “I’ll make a corridor in the narrow strip that I use for hay, so you wouldn't have to come out here all the time.” No they said, we don’t want you to quit. These are officers any community would be proud of, men of the highest caliber, well liked in the community, and, once the interrogation is over, a pleasure to talk to. One arrived at 8:00 PM and at midnight he was still here (with his video cam running--every encounter here was cam-ed, and I always tell them, “don’t destroy them”). Dispatch kept calling to see if he was okay, and he kept saying he’ll be moving on shortly, when at midnight a cruiser stopped at the intersection half a mile north, and locked onto us with his searchlight. They had us on the cam, but for some reason they dispatched another cruiser--perhaps they thought I had the sheriff hypnotized.

I knew from the very first who had sicced them on me and told them so. I repeated over and over again, “he’s using the police to harass me.” All this is on their tapes. One of them served in Afghanistan fighting warlords, and now the political system here (little more than a tool for the rich) uses him to wage war on me. This is what I tell the neighbors. With this difference. Over there, warlords have to fund their own militias--here they have the State (all the way up to the Pentagon) at their disposal. The warlords, Twitter/Facebook/Google/Amazon (these are actually sovereign States within the US--by silencing a President of the United States, proved they have more power than the President, a brutal display of raw power) could easily afford nuclear arsenals, but are free to indulge their passions on rocket ships instead. This evil rich man treats the Brookings County law department as his private army, and the deputies who come out here have no choice but to comply. I keep calling my old friend Professor Fathi Halaweish at every new episode: Would the people of Egypt, I ask him, understand what’s going on out here, that the police are out here every time this man sees me move, and the only answer they can give me is “well, to even the score you need to call us on him.” If a cow gets out, call the police, we’ll come. The police will make the drive, do the interrogation, go visit the culprit whose cow got out, read him the riot act, inform him of all the different ways he could get sued--in other words make sure he’ll spend the next two days trying to convince himself he’s not a criminal. For, after each interrogation, you will begin to feel a sense of dread every time you see the police cruiser hurtling silently down the road. It’s getting so that if I’m at the neighbor's and see them go by, I hurry home so as not to miss them--for I know where they're headed. Better to get it over with than lie awake all night getting ready for the encounter the next day.

But why would I call the police on my neighbor? I keep asking. The rest of us put the cows back where they belong (especially the cows from the wicked man’s field--because they’re about the only cows out around here), fix the fence, and don’t even bother to tell the neighbor. Well, that’s your problem. Let no good deed go unpunished. Kill and be killed, tooth and claw--if you don’t make use of your right to sic the police on your neighbor, don’t complain.

The latest episode was several days ago. Before I moved out here I lived in a trailer in Volga, with two sheds behind the trailer that I needed to move out here. The field behind my trailer was a varmint infested field owned by the town when I bought the trailer. I cleared out the area behind the trailer and built two sheds on it. The cracks in my driveway are full of maple tree shoots, which I would pull up and stick in the ground out back. They never amounted to anything, just ugly mangled shrubs on the property line which I guarantee you will be dozed out of the way now that my sheds are moved, but trimming them to free the sheds is now criminal destruction of property, with a full blown investigation in process. All the other neighbors have fire pits and lawns back there, even further out than my sheds.. We all thought that was the property line. The city has known we were back there for 25 years. They were only too glad that we tamed it, because it was infested with skunks. About once a week you could see one of the neighbors carefully shoo a skunk through the trailer park with his shotgun and shoot them in the field behind me.

When you pay taxes, you pay taxes on property you own. The tax man is supposed to know precisely what he’s taxing. I paid taxes on those sheds precisely where they have been for 25 years. But now the police tell me they were on the wicked man’s property (the town sold the field to him after my sheds were already there, he knew they were there when he bought it, and so did the town). But now the State Attorney will try to charge me for criminal trespass for being on property I was taxed on, and criminal destruction of property for trimming shrubs that I planted on land the tax man believed to be the trailer parks for which I paid rent.

But, you say, perhaps the tax man didn’t know the sheds were there. I have proof. John, the garbage collector (who now works at the courthouse), was in the wood shop with me when who shows up but the tax lady, dressed to the nines in high heels with pen and pad. Now I had just finished applying a very heavy and sticky varnish (not intended for outdoors) on the small deck attached to the mini-house shed that morning, and as the tax lady went about measuring the sheds, she stepped onto the deck. The effect was immediate. Those high heels must come off very easily, and, to get them out of the varnish while remaining in them, the poor lady had to engage in some very fancy footwork to get to firmer ground. She handled it with grace and dignity, and if you ask John today, make sure the Court is not in session, because it’s not something you can recall with a straight face. I once stumbled into one of these minefields, and kept creating others trying to contain it. It was so potentially embarrassing that I told a friend later, ”you know, if that happened to me at an earlier point in my life, I could never lift my head in public again.” “If that had happened to me,” he told me grimly, “ I would never lift my head in public again.” And yet even as I sat down and saw people about to explode trying not to laugh, I remember thinking, “ this is going to make some story.” This happened in the midst of about 100 people and none moved as much as a face muscle. I’ll bet they have often since. And I have since used it to sing for my supper many times.

Anyway, the tax lady danced on that deck with pen and pad calculating my personal tax on property, the sheriff now tells me, the State Attorney will now try to charge me for trespassing. Ironic as well, John is in the same building with the police and judges every day. If you make John tell that story in court, the gavel will bang for a long time, “order in the court, order in the court….” And since those sheds were on the property when the town sold it, they, in effect, sold my sheds without telling me, and Dave and I just moved stolen property. But for 25 years the government taxed me on them. And now the government tells me I’m trespassing. The ultimate Catch-22. Which means the city sold my sheds without informing me, and the government, assuming they were mine, taxed me on them for 25 years on property that it now says was not mine, the police department is gathering evidence of I don’t know how many crimes we may come up with here, and the State Attorney is gunning for me. Talk about the dog chasing its tail. There should be enough here for everybody. And I don’t want any of that tax back.

My good neighbor Dave was with me when I moved the sheds that I built and paid taxes on for 25 years on what we all (half the park residents are currently trespassing if true) thought was the park’s land, but which I am now told the town owned and sold without telling me, and so all these years I have been in possession of stolen property (since they went with the land the town sold, and thus could no longer be mine), but which the government said were mine and taxed me roundly on, and now tells me that because the city, the government and the police can no longer find where one begins and the other ends, the easiest thing to do is just charge me with any or all crimes that could possible be wrung out of all this, and be done with it. Because, I can tell you one thing, I have been interrogated, and the State Attorney has me in the cross-hairs. And as we all know, where there's smoke, there must of needs be fire.

The wicked man, long grieved that Dave was friendly to me, and long seeking occasion to move against him for that, now seeing him help me, quickly realized that Dave may have at long last fallen into his hands. When I moved here, I ran into a farmer (8 miles from here) who, hearing where I lived, blurted out: “I envy you your neighbor.” I walked away thinking, if any one ever says that about me I’ll ask him to put that on my gravestone and quit. Several years later, he told me that talking to Dave’s closest neighbor one day (where I now live), this man told him, “Dave has only one fault, he neglects his own work to help others.” Whenever the wicked man sees anyone cooperate with me, he either bribes them to turn against me, or he threatens them to stay away from me. He began laying a trap for Dave in the following manner.

This wicked man has a small plot of land bordering a widow's farm, which the widow’s husband rented from him, and had Dave custom farm, along with the rest of his land. In other words, Dave farmed the rented plot and the wicked couldn’t care one way or another. When the husband died, Dave continued working both plots. Then began the program to drive me out from here. The wicked man, seeing that Dave was friends with me, took the plot away from the widow for no other reason but that Dave would no longer be able to farm it. So the poor widow's connection to me, through Dave, made her an unsuspecting victim. Who did he rent it to? To his partner, who between them own a good deal of the county, Intermill, who custom farmed the wicked man’s vast estates, and co-owned the field behind my trailer and sheds in Volga, which the city sold to him and on which (the sheds) I paid taxes all these years. As I understand it, Intemill let the rented plot (next the widow) revert back to grass. This Spring, before planting, the widow’s cows got through the fence. The widow’s son drives truck, and the plan was to fix the fence when he got back home. But the wicked, with nothing to do but patrol his vast estates all day, kept calling the widow to get her cows out. I assume Dave stepped in as soon as he heard of it--he told me only enough to convey the sense that the widow felt greatly distressed. Here’s what I said, “Intermill needs to get away from this man. This is like putting a target on your back and daring God to strike you.” “His ear is always open to their cry.”

Then Dave helped me move the two sheds from behind my trailer in town (about 8 days ago). By the time the wicked discovered the deed, it was already too late. Had he known, he would have blocked my path. But everything that needs to be moved is moved. God struck him with blindness, until we were completely done. But in his rage, as soon as he gained intelligence of the matter, he moved semi-trailers (the whole field is now an industrial park filled with semi-trailers all the way to my sheds most of the time, and used by every trucker the world over--pulling my shed across this graveled park, he tells the police, is criminal trespass) and dirt to block me in completely, thinking I intended to pull the trailer out as well. But it was too late. The bird had flown the coop. God struck him with blindness until every stick I wanted moved was moved. God was ahead of him.

Then Haman, mad with rage at seeing his purpose thwarted, and sensing opportunity, began laying snares for Dave. He phoned Dave to discover the extent of his role in helping me move, so he could get the government to move against him for criminal acts, and sue him for damages. But Dave quickly sensed the true nature of the evil. Dave knew that this had nothing to do with him, and that he was not the intended victim or target. The wicked likewise knows that there are limits to what he can do to Dave. Dave has many friends who would turn the county upside down if this wicked man got the government to move against him for an absurdity. However, if he could merely push Dave to the side by threatening him, he could then move to destroy me. The entire neighborhood knows this. When this wicked man turned Intermill against me, one of Intermill’s employees stopped by to let me know that everyone knows that this had nothing to do with Intermill and myself, but, because Intermill farmed the wicked man’s vast estates, he had to pick sides. To make a long story short, I put a triple layer fence between my small plot and Intermill’s, for fear that one of my lambs would get out. Before all this I would walk my 25 acres many times a day just for the sheer joy of watching my sheep graze. I stopped altogether for about 4 years. I only realized that I had stopped when I began again this summer. “Thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress.” A great and terrible weight was lifted off me.

In any event, the wicked man’s move against Dave had only this purpose. To isolate me. But the nature of his call to Dave was about crimes committed by both of us when we both moved my sheds. And if there were crimes committed there, the law will have no choice but to charge us both. But the wicked had no intention of having Dave charged. He knows the wrath of the community would come down hard upon him. The threat of criminal charges was only a ploy to scare Dave into submission. In law this is called blackmail. Blackmail is when you threaten an American citizen with the legal process of the State, not for the sake of justice, but to achieve a personal result. In other words, I will bring the police out here and interrogate you, unless.. if we can agree….I think we understand each other....etc, etc. It’s when you use the legal system, not in the interests of the common good (for which it is intended) but to achieve a sinister end against a fellow citizen. He threatened Dave with the police, not because he thought Dave had committed a crime, but to get Dave to step aside and stay away from me. The State Attorney would have a hard time moving against Dave (his family has been here forever) on an absurdity, but, alone, a person could end up in jail for jaywalking. For the police to even interrogate me for what most people do every day is enough to give me pause. Ask any man in the neighborhood: does anyone have better common sense than Dave? They would say no (except in this: he neglects his work to help others). Does anyone have a greater sense of common decency? No. So when I ask Dave, “Does anything here make any sense at all except that the government has simply put the machinery of law into motion because a rich man wants a certain result”? If someone can somehow just get the police to drive by your house slowly every day, you will begin watching your every step. In law this is called the intimidation of an American citizen. There are people in America who have such power.

If my old friend Professor Halaweish had not known me for twenty five years, he would think I was hallucinating.

Now, what Dave and I really think is that somehow we have become entrapped or stumbled into a pit of legal and political depravity that no decent person could ever begin to understand. It's like having the police inform you that the government can execute you for walking across a Walmart parking lot or charge you for destruction of property if you move a shopping cart, or leave a footprint on the lawn after a rain.

I know of only one Democrat in the whole county.

Fathi tries to humor me by telling me that it must all be a terrible misunderstanding, and that nothing like this would make sense even in North Korea, much less the United States. Yet Dave is threatened with criminal prosecution, and I am now in the State Attorney’s cross-hairs. If Dave and I see the widow’s cows in the wicked man’s pasture, we’ll get them back to where they belong even if we have to undo and redo the fence. But if you do this without permission here, you can expect a visit from the police. And neither Dave nor I would ask the wicked man’s permission, because we are certain that he would never give us permission to get the widow’s cows back out. Dave has fixed the wicked man’s fence many times (and in the middle of the night) because the cows from his (Haman's) land are always out trampling our crops (I have only three acres of corn and one night they rampaged through it. The only person I called was Dave. “I better put up a fence,” I said. And spent the next two days putting up a fence). So we get the widow’s cows out and hope he doesn’t see us. And the police keep showing up. This is the most evil man I have ever come across. He has turned the legal system of Brookings County into a judicial and political depravity that would make Kim Jung-un blush. And when he drives by he would have to note that Dave had fixed his fence, and that Dave would have had to trespass to do so. “We have to come investigate,” the police tell me, “no matter what.” Dave has had to trespass on this man’s land many times to fix his (the wicked's) fence, or else not an ear of corn would be left us. I tell that to the police. “Cows are a different matter,” they tell me. “They trample our crops.” “You need to call us,” they say. But what if we just fixed the problem ourselves? “You have to call us.”

The law is an instrument of severity, a web that can destroy an innocent person on a technicality. It knows nothing of mercy, good will, or kindness (though it may presuppose them), and when confronted with them, recoils in confusion. Some people use it only as an aid to good faith, mercy and good will. Lawgivers are wise enough to know that the law is a merciless tyrant without good faith, mercy and goodwill, but there is nothing in law itself that is capable of punishing the lack of good faith, mercy and good will. Many things make sense with this in mind. Without good faith and good will, the law is a monster. What is left is raw power. Take people who use guns. The one uses it to kill if necessary. The other merely to bluff. A lawman in Texas recently had to reiterate what most people know: if you carry a gun you must be ready to kill with it. If not, you are infinitely safer not being armed at all. This is what the Sheriffs convey when they say, ”you have to call us on him” (in other words, unless you're willing to use the arm of Caesar all the way up to the sword, the law is left clapping with one hand, and that hand will find it very easy to have you in it's grasp). Now if everyone in the neighborhood has the right to shoot to kill, but some carry a gun only to scare off would be predators, the people who make full use of their rights will soon dominate those who don’t. So Dave and I just keep fixing fence, and hope we don’t end up in jail. We never call the police. No one expects a perfect world.

Some time ago I ran into a man from Senegal, and discovering that he did a stint at major European universities, I just had to ask, “And how did you find Europe as an African” (A very sensitive question--but he knew a good friend of mine)? He shrugged cheerfully and said, “It’s not a perfect world.” In other words, he had better things to do in life than to give such trifles a second thought. Of the 8 billion people in the world about 2 billion walk around at any given moment daring others to knock the chip of their shoulders. I decided not to become a billionaire when I discovered that I could never count to a billion in my lifetime. I don’t have time to be a billionaire. And if you need that chip knocked off, you’ll have to find someone else to do it. Don’t waste my time.

What would they say about this in Egypt, I ask Fathi. The average person in Egypt would weep that such a question could even exist among humans. It's so unreal, that Fathi is convinced that somewhere there has been a colossal mistake. What I am describing could not be true anywhere in the world. It certainly could not be true in America. But can you tell me how the police can repeatedly interrogate an American citizen for something that nobody knows what it is, tell him the State Attorney has him in the crosshairs, and then leave him dangling in suspense, indefinitely--a week, a month? Fathi is the most American citizen I have ever met, tirelessly attending every committee of responsible citizenship. His two eldest sons are by now both captains in their field. If your unborn child has a defect, Dr. Halaweish will take it from its mother’s womb, correct the defect while it draws strength from its mother, and gently place it back to be born in due time. If you have been scanned by a Siemens machine recently, it will most likely have been designed by the other Dr. Halaweish and his team across the border at the Mayo Clinic. I’ve known them since they were boys, and I don’t like to brag, but I follow their careers with great pride.

Many people know about this by now. I see them running away as quickly as their feet will carry them. They do not want to become the next victim. Fathi’s response? “Put my name down, man. And keep me posted.” The last of the Americans.

(to be continued)