Category Archives: Some Simple (& Not So Simple) Acts of Protest
SMALL DECISIONS, AND ACTIONS, MATTER
The County Sheriff: America’s Last Hope by Sheriff Richard Mack. With information on gun control, Sheriff Mack’s lawsuit against the Brady Bill, the founding of america, the constitution, the sheriff as the supreme law enforcement officer in the country, the dangers of political correctness, the Bill of Rights, and how to stand up against the real criminals in government.
“This book should be read by every citizen, police officer, and especially each sheriff of these United States, that we may become united in our service to the American people and dedicated to the preservation of those precious freedoms that so many have fought and died for. to uphold and defend the U.S. Constitution is our primary duty and our sworn responsibility.” – Sheriff Joe Arpaio
See More Information on The Constitutional Sheriffs and Peace Officers Association HERE
Food Freedom is Vital. See information on The Farm-to-Consumer Legal Defense Fund (FTCLDF) HERE.
“I would rather apologize than ask for permission”. – Big John Lipscomb, and similar to a quote originated by Grace Hopper.
Today I ate a homegrown cherry tomato, and I liked it. It was perfectly ripe, bursting with flavor, and it did not travel 1000 miles or more to get to my mouth. In fact, I picked it from my sun room, just a few steps from where I write this.
I ate it because it was good, and I could.
To eat it supports a system in which I believe, one that is right in so many ways. It is a local transaction, of that there is no doubt. More than that, it is a conscious and personal act. I tended and nurtured that small plant, and I studied it’s growing fruit with hope and anticipation.
To eat a tomato from the supermarket more than likely supports a system that I do not believe in. That tomato depends on chemicals, the corporate model, and long distance transport, steeped in diesel. It rarely tastes like a tomato either.
Thus, I so protest. I pop it into my mouth and I eat my cherry tomato which was just a second ago still attached to the vine. It is an inconsequential act, I suppose, but it still holds power. It makes me feel better. It may not change the world in any significant way this day, but it did change my world, and for the moment, that is enough.
On an early morning in mid-March 2013, a middle-aged man of character and fair standing in his community, free from warrant or criminal history, walked into his local Walmart store in Western Colorado and attempted to purchase a resident fishing license at the sporting goods counter. His honest and best efforts were categorically denied, with prejudice.
It just so happens that I have direct knowledge of this unfortunate yet otherwise insignificant event, and I can attest to the fact that the man was deeply disturbed by such a troubling outcome.
He was told that said purchase was denied because he failed to present upon demand the necessary documentation needed to prove his state residency beyond any shadow of doubt, and the proceedings stopped right there. This determination came as a great surprise, as the man had purchased a Colorado resident hunting or fishing license of one kind or another each and every year since escaping the all too restrictive confines of the east coast in 1976.
I can assure you that the refusal of service and accommodation by the vendor was taken quite seriously by said confused citizen, and the deal did not go down without discussion and argument. It did not help this agitated individual to know that he would soon miss his carpool connection, and that he would have to drive a second vehicle by himself for two hours as a result. He would undoubtedly miss the early bite too.
For him it was no small matter, and it left him shaken and angry beyond simple proportion. Of that I am quite certain, and as you may have guessed by now, I possess such first hand and intimate knowledge of it all because it happened to me. I can tell you what I know.
My issues really began when I attempted to purchase an annual fishing license at another agent one week earlier, and suddenly realized that I had never purchased a fishing license in 2012.
This is no big deal of course, but I had forgotten that a few years ago the State of Colorado had adopted a “season year” fishing license, which was valid from April 1 to March 31. This is different than the more traditional “calendar year” license of old, which renews on January 1st of every year.
At that point I opted to buy a one day fishing license, because it did not make sense to pay full price for an annual license that would be valid for only three weeks.
I had no problem purchasing my one day fishing license, which is to be expected, because it is not supposed to be difficult to purchase a hunting or fishing license in Colorado.
After all, a complete representation of my personal information and recreational histories are already stored in the “central computer”, as the state developed a Total Licensing System years ago. It already knows my Driver’s License Number, my Social Security Number, my height and weight and eye color, my current and past addresses, and all of my license purchases throughout the years. Who knows what else it knows, and who it shares it with?
I just know that I was always told that the computerized system was designed to make everything more streamlined and carefree for us mere mortals of the public domains.
So why then, the problem, which is exactly what I wanted to know?
I had not planned to fish again until April 1st or after, so when my friends asked me to fish on short notice I decided to purchase an additional fishing day. The Walmart store was on my way.
I presented for inspections a current and valid Commercial Drivers License, which is not easy to acquire by the way, complete with photograph, background check, and current medical clearances. In addition I also provided the one day fishing license that I had purchased the week before, my elk license from last fall, and a Colorado Hunter Safety card issued in 2006. I freely admit that I was not prepared for an interrogation, and that I did not carry a satchel full of identity papers to prove my validity.
I simply wanted to add an additional fishing day to a one day fishing license, and I was willing to pay. My driver’s license and photo ID confirmed my identity. My one week old fishing license provided evidence that I had supplied the necessary residency documentation at the time of that purchase. It should have been enough. In fact, it was more than enough to satisfy all legal requirements.
But it was not so in the vendor’s eyes. As it happens, my driver’s license had been reissued five months before, and listed only the reissue date. This seemed to cause insurmountable roadblocks. Colorado requires that you live in the state for at least six months to qualify for residency, and the sales clerk took one look at that…and stopped all proceedings. He flat-out refused to continue with all the conviction of a loyal and dedicated foot soldier.
I have some knowledge of the inner workings of the licensing system. I explained to him what I knew, and that all of my paperwork when added together was reason for him to attempt to issue a license. After all, the necessary information was readily accessible on the fully integrated licensing terminal hovering just outside his reach.
He simply refused, citing policy and procedure while staring intently at a handout sheet, and literally threw up his hands before heading for the back room to search for reinforcements.
A couple of clueless sales clerks, a department manager and one store manager later, I was resolutely denied service and emphatically asked to leave the premises. For the record, I must acknowledge that over the years I have been thrown out of places with much more inspiring views and tasteful decor. But that is a story for another time.
I just wanted to go ice fishing. I wanted to escape the data control grid for just a few hours and feel the fresh air on my face in a desire to remember why I moved to the west in the first place. I wanted to hook up with a primal and pulsating creature, drawn from the depths of another world held far beyond the grasp of the social engineers and the prying, electronic eyes and ears of a robotic spy drone. I wanted to pretend for a brief time that I was a free man in a free state doing what I do best and enjoy the most, without some lingering and disturbing aftertaste of heavy-handed experience hanging on my breath. Is that too much to ask?
What does one do when faced with such a circumstance?
Well, I chose to take the matter to a higher authority, and in this case that was the licensing division of Colorado Game, Fish, And Parks. I had no doubt that they would like to comment on the heart of the matter, and indeed they did. They were quite happy to provide some guidance in this regard.
Vendors who wish to sell hunting and fishing licenses in their retail outlet can apply for and become license agents. They then become official representatives of Colorado Parks and Wildlife, and they have a duty to provide courteous and efficient service as their agent. It also means that they need to know the licensing laws and regulations far better than you or I, and how to apply them correctly and fairly. Failure to do so can have serious consequences.
Public complaint can trigger a letter of disciplinary action from Colorado Parks, and contribute to a “three strikes” rule. The vendor can be required to attend classes on the proper procedures and protocols of licensing and agency, and to properly retrain all staff. If the abuses continue, the agent’s agreement can be revoked and their ability to sell hunting and fishing licenses discontinued.
I have filed a formal complaint through appropriate channels. It would appear that some of Walmart’s staff at this particular store will be “reeducated” on my behalf before the storyline of our little encounter has ended.
It is comforting to know that a private citizen has some ability to effect change, and possibly prevent someone else from suffering the same humiliations and indignities from fools such as these. Still, I have some concerns.
Once accepted, a first time license application creates a “lifetime” customer identification number, and hence a customer record, or “profile”. I had always been under the impression that this electronic database and total licensing system was supposed to make it easier for me to purchase a license, without having to continuously provide documentation over and over again at every turn. I can only wonder who this system is really designed to help, because apparently it has not been put in place to help me. If it was, it does not seem to be working as promised.
One eventual truth with centralized and technocratic systems is that they are eventually turned and used as a weapon by people who do not have your best interests in mind. They inevitably become jury, judge, and executioner, and they can never seem to forgo the opportunity to play god with the imperious flick of a wrist.
I refuse to be treated like a common criminal and dismissed like useless chattel by sales clerks who have failed to demonstrate the respect required to master some of the basic communication skills of the english language, particularly those who work for the ultimate purveyor of cheap plastic and Chinese slave goods. I will not let them use the color of law to ruin my day without returning the favor in full.
At the very least, I have a small but focused voice, and I will use it. I am also quite capable of managing a hair-raising scream or two when the occasion calls for it.
Impose your will unjustly, and you may gain my full attention. Make it personal, and you will know that I have been there.
For now, I stand horrified in the knowledge that the information miners and the privacy thieves have penetrated so far into the remote and protected corners of my everyday life. I am left to gauge the parameters of the nightmarish, Orwellian uber-reality in which I have been fully imprisoned. You may witness me there, restlessly casting about for some remnants of my peace of mind, hot on the scent of my lost country. I pray that I can occasionally find it in the unspoiled wilds at the edges of our memory.
For some time now I have made a special effort to drink only water that I have collected and hauled from a high country spring, and I have no plans to quit anytime soon. It is some distance from my house and it takes a bit of time out of an otherwise busy day, and it would be so much easier to turn on the municipal tap or crack a cap of bottled water.
Is it worth the trouble, you might ask?
Well, yes it is, as a matter of fact, and in more ways than you might guess, would be my answer…
Drawn deep from a primordial source, this water is wild and whole and tastes of mountain and ancient sunlight. It flows steady and true and offers a host of special properties quite hard to define. It is alive, and it feels good just to be around it. In fact, it is all about how it makes you feel, this living water…
It is not something I wish to take for granted. It is a sobering fact…