Story Archives 2000

by Joe B.

I’m in Sudafed-non-aspirin haze as a gray, light to heavy drizzle began falling.

How would I know in a drug induced haze? I’m just getting over the flu.

I took those medicines at 6am with water while washing down said legally bought drugs.

Its Thursday, March, 7, 2002 my brain has gone blank... Oh yeah, The “2002 San Francisco Homeless Summit will begin at 8:15 a.m. in the Herbst Theater

Veterans Building 401 Van Ness Avenue.

Mrs. A. Fay, Lisa, and I meet up at POOR’s 2nd. Floor.

While waiting falling in and out of sleep the drizzle became louder and the sky from POOR’s squared-off picture window are grayer, darker, nearly night.

Unfortunately We, that is Fay, Junebug, Lisa and I arrived in this pandemonium in the Herbst Theater ruining my I-can-go-home ‘n’ sleep, visit girlfriend in Berkeley-staying undercover all-day because-of-rain daydream; it tingles and stimulates and is the only reason I like heavy rain or thunder showers.

Tiny’s gray car is hard to see in this monochrome gray environment.

At 8:27 I’m ‘thinkin we’re late so “The ‘PO Poets may not have time to do their stuff which means no Joe “Slam Bio” wrong.

Everyone’s slightly late it this important event Supervisor Chris Daly gently rushed us into “The Green Room” [The faded green carpet seems to be why its named though green isn’t the exclusive color] for our on stage presentation.

Leroy Moore, of (DAMO) [Disability Advocates Of Minority Organization].
With A. Fay, myself, Junebug, Poet/Low Income Housing Advocate, Tiny, half of the Co-Editor’s of POOR Magazine, Mari, on Youth Commissioner beginning around 1996 or 7 by Mayor Willie Brown as a way of having young people’s ideas and coordinate problems and solutions that young people face in society today.

I dislike being on stage, in public but once out there you don’t want to let others down and you do your best while being absolutely terrified.

I spotted Mr. James Tracy of “Right To A Roof” Its everyone is confused as their rushed this way or that, but confusion as my normal condition is like a drunk walking straight during an earthquake.

A woman with a stroller and child is having trouble entering the building because of the security guard which is a bad sign for a summit for poor folks and they are supposedly invited.

It might be a minor mishap or an indication that maybe poor folks are not gonna be help and this is another political publicity stunt.

Now safely seated at a POOR table to smooze, inform, and sell our wares we’ve created see George Smith, Amos Brown, Tom Ammiano, and Gavin Newsom some other familiar faces flitted by but their names escape me.

At 10:46 am. The drugs are beginning to ware off as the stuffy, congested throat fogged head and lowered reaction time turns crowds and individuals into movie-like slow mo freeze framed images and my bladder began asking why I drank some tea and water earlier in the morning.

Later Isabel arrived her face clouded and fuzzed at the edges her navel's what I my eyes see telescoped there “An outtie” nice navel I thought absently before looking at her face or may have said it aloud still in a half sleep/awake stupor.

Answering questions, collecting moneys, looking for change, explaining POOR’s mission, nodding off slightly missing time doesn’t feel good plus the one person-table works for short periods but not when.

Lunch is on the second floor in yet another green room. Time expands so does my bladder.

I had to go bad yet stay to watch over money jar and salable items.

Luckily a flu slows everything down, after placing most magazines, handbooks, flyers, and taking money jar with me I go the restroom, empty sun yellow liquid which means I need I’m dehydrated and must drink more water.

I impulsively decide to grab a lunch of my own on the second floor.

Supervisor, Chris Daly is outside and a suited man tells me where the room is.

Inside lots or camera’s, reporters, and people sitting chairs or pews and next to me a table full of white plastic bags.

“Is that a donation for us?” a photographer jokes.
“Just our own”

I say grabbing a white bag, exiting quickly to the elevator.

Walking back to the table slowly until I’m once again sitting still feeling the slow motion effects the flu.

Waiting for my nosebleed to signal an end to my illness.

I continue selling what items I can as the Homeless Summit continues.

While eating lunch I legally re-drugged myself with Sudafed and non aspirin; I’ve forgotten if you take those medications separate or together - thinking “oh-well I take them together as I eat a tuna fish sandwich and wash it down with a strawberry-kiwi soda.

It’s only then I thought “You’re not suppose to mix medcations together oh-well.

I began nodding off, missing gaps in time, going the bathroom, and suddenly talking to Lisa, Mari, Junebug, and Isabell unless the latter is a waking dream.

Time slowed, quickened, there is a heated discussion of John John Whane Bobbit, Lorraina Bobbit, partial castration, and a porn career, also Vagina Monologues, and being hit a lot for saying the wrong things at the wrong time to the wrong person.

Soon it was nearly time and I gathered what it needed before leaving the building.

The whole day seemed like a floating gossamer wing with nothing attached.

I hope poor folks, their advocates, reporters and politico’s get the message that improved, better, higher 'tech skills, education, and alternative work situations are possible and feasible.

Low-income housing, is not Affordable Housing and the Minimum Wage should always be continually Cost-Of-Living Adjusted so alternative ways of work is no longer locked into one mindset.

As soon as I get this stuff safely at POOR’s office I’m going home that is if I don’t end up sleeping in Local 6’s Union Hall tonight which is looking better and better to me.

Joseph Bolden/Poor Magazine
Staff Writer

by Marlon Crump

“We didn’t have a name, we didn’t have an identity, but our action gave us an identity.” Ashraf Cassiem, lead organizer, chairperson of Western Cape Anti-Eviction Campaign, explaining the birth of the community organization.

Earlier this year, my family of POOR Magazine/PNN learned of their struggles within the South African communities of Cape Town, Durban, and Johannesburg, among others. Since then, a series has been produced for their silenced, unheard voices.

In a May 7th, PNN article, “Fighting Foreclosure in South Africa: An Open Letter to U.S. Activists” sought to bring forth awareness of the struggle:

“Beware of all those in power--even those who seem like they are on your side. Beware of money, especially NGO money, which seeks to pacify and prevent direct action. Beware of media, even alternative media written by the middle class on behalf of the poor. Create your own media.”

“To provide for the progressive elimination of slums in the Province of KwaZulu-Natal; to provide for measures for the prevention of the re-emergence of slums; to provide for the upgrading and control of existing slums; and to provide for matters connected therewith.”

(A provision from Section 16 of the“Slums Act” in South Africa.)

This section was struck down on October 14th, by the constitutional court, of South Africa against the Kwazulu-Natal provincial government, in favor of Abahlali baseMjondolo, the South African Shack Dwellers Movement. Abahlali baseMjondolo means “shack dweller” in language from the Zulu people.

Though this section was destroyed, there is still more struggle ahead for the movement to permanently be rid of this entire law, which is easily equivalent to gentrification.

Removal of just one of its sections and/or subdivisions won’t do any good.“Is there a huge momentum push to get rid of the Slums Act in general?” I asked Ashraf Cassiem during an interview on Pirate Cat Radio, here in San Francisco.

“When it was proposed, the movement (Abahlali baseMjondolo) went to the magistrate court to have it declared illegal.” Cassiem replied. “The magistrate upheld the Slums Act. It was only because of the tenacity of Abahlali baseMjondolo that they applied to the constitutional court to explain the problem that we had with the Slums Act.”

Just like poor and landless people here in the U.S.A. alleged as the “land of the free”. For the landless of South Africa, their ongoing decade struggle continues to defy subsequent, systematic strategies, of relentless objectives aimed for their removal by the Cape Town government

Dis-placing them into parts, unknown, and re-placing them with owners, unknown. It's been the beliefs and ignorance to many that “Post-Apartheid South Africa” ended in 1994. Rude awakeningly, it has not.

"Today we found out, about seven hours ago that the police broke inside someone's house, looking for someone. When they were confronted by the community, they started shooting." Raj Patel, activist, author, journalist, and supporter for the movement would later state before the interview with Ashraf Cassiem. The incident took place at the Pemary Ridge settlement in Reservoir Hills.

Me and the audience learned of this horrible news on this November 13th chilly Friday evening. He was briefy interviewed before Cassiem. On this evening, I was here to interview him, in our re-porting and su-pporting of the movement.

“Currently if poor children are found living on the streets are put in jail for weeks at a time, if tourists are expected to come to Durban.” “Tiny” Lisa Gray-Garcia, co-founder of POOR Magazine/PNN in her November 10th, 2009. “The War on the Poor from San Francisco to South Africa has a new foe!”

Tiny frequently speaks about the true state-of-emergency to “move off the grid” and to “take back the land.” With increased efforts by governments to displace the poverty prone, universally, who could debate this?

“The Homefulness Project needs to happen!” she would exclaim. This project would mean for everyone who’re houseless and in poverty to finally own their share of land, bearing peace of mind. To equally have equity, undetermined by race, sex, religion, and especially income status.

No more dreaded pieces of paper calling themselves “Notice To Vacate” from landlords, slumlords assisted with sheriff deputies, to serve their tenants. Like a warden accompanied with prison guards to serve a death warrant to a condemned prisoner.

Freedom from foreclosures by banks, who disperse families of the poor, working class, and privileged (locally and globally) then having the audacity to apply for “Corporate Welfare” or a “Bailout” quickly given to them by U.S. Congress. No more dis-placement and re-placement!

Ashraf Cassiem arrived at Pirate Cat Radio Cafe, approximately a half hour before radio broadcast segment went underway. Cassiem was here to to spread the word of the relentless war against the poor taking place through South African cities, such as Cape Town, Durban, Johannesburg, etc, etc.

They face terror 24/7 by the po-lice, laws containing clause severities, and governmental oppression, overall.

Pirate Cat Radio Host, and member of the “League of Pissed Off Voters”, Andy Blue opened up the interview with Raj Patel, who is in full support of the struggle. Patel vocalized a summary overview of the historical background of South Africa. He stated how “people in the U.S. are told two different stories about Africa that kind of circulate.”

“One is about how after Nelson Mandela was released (from a long prison term), the country sang beautiful songs, everyone danced under the rainbow flag, and everything went happily ever after.” When Patel said this, one thing quickly came to my mind was last year’s election with President Barack Obama’s historical win.

While there are those who might’ve believed that apartheid in South Africa ended in 1994, it clearly had not, which was confirmed by Patel, “If you look at things like education, healthcare, income, South Africa has become a worst place.”

He further explained how so many people get the darkest stories of South Africa, in reference to some of the criminal activities that take place: Violence, rape against women, drugs, etc, etc. and that the concern by people was that South Africa was going to turn into this “dark continent” because people don’t know what else to do.

Patel countered those stories. “South Africa has a rich history of resistance of people fighting back.” In light of the horrific news given to us regarding the po-lice shooting community members, Patel talked about their resistance when they fled to the top of the road, then burned tires to keep the po-lice out.

In one area of Durban, a middle class section with a small percentage of people living in shacks, and low income, the police are shooting anyone who even looks low income. “That’s alive right now. That’s part of the immediate struggle that Ashraf is in.”

After Patel concluded his interview, he introduced Ashraf Cassiem, who talked about the background of the Western Cape Anti-Eviction Campaign.

“In October of 2000, the City of Cape Town used the the sheriff to evict many members of community. One in particular was a man in a wheel chair, and his whole family, who had a two month old baby. The community responded by getting together to resist that particular eviction, but it did not go with out incident.”

Cassiem said there were six people arrested that day, and multiple law enforcement units, including the army had arrived to the scene. Ashraf was one of the first to be assaulted. He sustained numerous injuries to his body from dog bites, and had his front teeth kicked in. A truce even took place among the five gangs that lived in his area.

“There were five different gangs who were fighting each other all the time.” He said. But on this day of evictions, the rival gangs formed an alliance and joined the movement, after seeing what was happening to their community.

The community occupied the police station for two hours, with over 7,000 strong until everyone, including the family of the man in the wheelchair were finally released to the community and reinstated back to their homes.

“On that day, we decided that no one would ever be evicted again.” Cassiem said. Unfortunately, the community of Cape Town found themselves involved in another battle, called the “water wars” three months later.

The City of Cape Town, because we couldn’t afford water, they came and disconnected us. They disconnected families from having water.” There were many confrontations, because the person sent to disconnect were accompanied by police.

When disconnections took place, re-connections would follow by the community members, affected. 1,300 families were being denied from the fundamental human right to have water.

“We decided that at every morning at 4:00 a.m. we would get up in the entrances of our community, light some tires and stayed there the whole day.” Other communities received words about these incidents and the acts of resistance, because of the similar experiences they all shared.

Invitations were extended to them to join their cause. Alliances were formed, and an un-planned community based organization was born: The Western Cape Anti-Eviction Campaign.

Their goal is to be strictly spontaneous in its function to the forefront for the poor. They refuse to engage with academics, influences with hidden agendas, and politics in general, since there is no help given to them by the government.

“No Land, No House, No Vote!”

Revolution chants expressed by the movement displayed towards the government, showing their refusal to participate in its elections or any political parties.

In 2002, they sought to bring a suit against the city regarding disconnections of their water. A lawyer and an advocate were more than willing to take their case. Later, however, due to politics and conflict of interests issues, they declined to help them.

With no legal representation, their suit never made it to court. The “water wars” and evictions raged on. They did, however, discover a clause in the constitution that allowed them to represent their community members in various other cases, as an association. “We are not attorneys or advocates.” Cassiem explained.

As a “Revolutionary Legal Scholar” I know the experience of self-representation, and not having a degree. I co-founded the “Revolutionary Legal Advocacy Project” two years ago, a revolutionary legal project of POOR to give accessibility to low income people the resources they need to fight the legal system.

Cassiem detailed the restructure of the constitution, during the Mandela Administration, where more problems surfaced. There were signed off policies that apartheid used to benefit from, leading to a devastating impact on the poor.

Commodifications, and prioritizations from these policies, during his adminstration led to problems with healthcare, education, housing, evictions, marginalizations, and displacements among the poor.

All of which resulted from the languages scripted in the constitution; which were misinterpreted by the poor to sign written agreements because they sounded legitimate.

In 2007, the Western Cape Anti-Eviction Campaign got involved with a plan from then-Minister of Housing for the N2 Gateway Projects, Lindiwe Sisuli. The plan was the removal of settlements on the freeways, and place them in affordable housing. “We call them squatter camps Cassiem said, in reference to the settlements. The main targets were the ones by the international airport so that tourists would not see them.

Plans for the FIFA World Cup next year, and anticipated arrivals of tourists increased the removal of squatter camps. Such are the efforts by the City of San Francisco to push for a new San Francisco 49’ers Football Stadium in the Bayview Hunter’s Point Neighborhood.

The Western Cape Anti-Eviction Campaign and the community once again refused to be forcibly removed. Their ground was stood in the face of po-lice attacks, shootings, and arrests of trumped up charges. The courts would later dismissed those charges, due to lack of evidence to support them.

Evictions were executed to 25,000 families that lived on the freeways. Sisuli suggested that they be moved (or physically be moved) to an unfavorable area of about 20 kilometers away. “We resisted and went to court. I actually did the representation.” Cassiem said.

To his surprise, and on this particular day, the judge wanted Cassiem to excuse himself from representing the squatter camp community. “Look, you’re not a lawyer, you’re not an advocate, and you’re not allowed to talk in my court. Who gives you the right to say what you’re saying?!"

Cassiem replied that it was not in his own interest, except in the interest of 25,000 other people. He recently visited other U.S. cities, including a poor community in Chicago to hear their testimonies, of evictions, displacement, and gentrification.

To read more about his visit, among other stories regarding the Abahlali baseMjondolo shack dwellers movement, and the Western Cape Anti-Eviction Campaign are featured at the below website, http://www.abahlali.org/node/5678

In addition, Pirate Cat Radio face problems with the Federal Communications Commission (F.C.C). To read more, please go to www.piratecatradio.com

“Wars of nations are fought to change maps. But wars of poverty are fought to map change.” Boxing legend, Muhammad Ali

by Staff Writer

To all the tenants that reside,
Inside a C.H.P. dwelling;
I wrote this to let you know,
Of something quite compelling.
You've known me as an advocate,
Defender of homeless and poor;
But now I'm informing you,
Of problems an the front Door.
It seems as though a house rule,
Has changed the face of residence;
Involving a security issue,
as though we are ex-presidents.
Front door traffic has increased,
And runs like water from hoses;
Tenants want guests respected,
C.H.P. smell the roses.

In times of financial shortage,
all types of assets are used;
Tenants are aware of policies,
And try to keep them unbruised.
Friends and relatives come by,
When tenants budgets are weak;
Gifts and arrangements blend,
For entertainment guests seek.
Recently an obstacle surfaced,
Interfering with traffic flow;
No one can enter the building,
With no Desk Clerk in the show.
But if a tenant is waiting,
And aware they're not Moses;
They expect to be let in,
C.H.P. smell the roses.

If there is someone leaving,
This building that tenants rent;
The tenant should be let in,
If it's a guest that's waiting,
They know that the only choice;
Is let the Clerk make contact,
Okay from the tenant voice.
But if the Clerk is not there,
The guest is still stuck outside;
Street atmosphere changes fast,
Challenging patience and pride.
Upon the Desk Clerk's return,
Confrontation imposes;
C.H.P. smell the roses.

when the visitor is let in,
Conversations are heated;
The tenant comes questioning,
The way their guest was treated.
The Clerk-on-duty is alone,
While keeping House Rules on track:
On the Swing and Graveyard Shift,
And wonders, who has their "back".
There is a dark history,
Of incidents that weren't cool;
Of Desk Clerks risking safety,
On an unfriendly house rule.
Each resulted in an attack,
Under some managers noses;
Injuries were inflicted,
C.H.P. smell the roses.

During 1998,
Two attacks in a Clerk space;
Inside the San Cristina,
Injuries in the same place.
Hit hard in his head while tired;
Defended himself from harm,
He was wrongfully fired.
Next was an On-Call Floater,
A tenant who did his best;
Tolerated a face punch,
From an "altered-minded" guest.
Did all proper procedures,
And followed all supposes;
Not long afterwards he quit,
C.H.P. smell the roses

by Marlon Crump/PNN

"It is heart-wrenching to realize that you have become a mind control experiment by your own government. It�s something that I am still putting up with and coming to terms with. I don�t have any drug history. I also have no criminal background and no DUI�s. (Driving Under the Influence) My background is very clean so I am guessing I was just unlucky.� (D. T.: Targeted Individual).

"They politics like ours profess, the greater prey upon the less."

Matthew Green, poet

�As for the so called protest, is it some lame ass conference call again? How is that going to get anything done let alone intimidate perps?�

Callous remarks from a discovered infiltrator name on a Yahoo Website safe haven for victims, called �Targeted Individuals.�

His objective was to discourage, disrupt, and dismantle any attempts by the T.I. victims towards organizing a protest crisis call to action. I informed him with a chronology of obnoxious remarks that he failed on all accounts in his mission.

An empty air drafts an individual when an invisible trouble follows them every where they go. People who drifting off into the day, the night to a lake, a wooded area, or simply down a hallway. The immediate uncomfortable feeling of an unknown danger of the covert persuasion places them into immediate heart-pounding fear.

When that danger is discovered, the individual quickly fetch the nearest pay phone (if they are without a phone of their own) or a concerned citizen who just happens to witness the situation.

They feeling of relief enters their heart them when a police squad car pulls up to assist them.

(Or are they really able or even willing to assist them?)

The individual turns to their local governmental authority to urge them to stop these acts from continuing. They are either assured that �an investigation will be underway� or they are simply told that there is nothing that they can do.

They then find themselves in more frightening situations where they�re targeted and stalked--by means of manufactured sophisticated technologies used for terrorism, conquering, and control.

A control wave of invisible psychological concentration camps, by an unknown Fuhrer (leader) continues its reign. Many victims have actually called this the �silent Holocaust.�

Covert stalkers often greet their victims literally right above their noses, some wearing smiles like wolves hiding behind sheep: Costumed as passer bys, people asking victims strange questions, police officers (the worst), doctors, and even a postal worker.

�On August 31st, 2009 at 3:00p.m., I approached the counter to have a piece of mail sent �certified.� A T.I explained to me. (she requested to remain anonymous.) The postal worker looked angry, and as I placed my letter on the counter she stuck her tongue out at me.� The T.I described, �in a very strong gesture, straight out of her mouth.�

Amidst the bizarre behavior by the postal worker, and the T.I trying to avoid an unnecessary situation that was getting uglier by the minute, the woman said something terrifying: �WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE!�

It becomes blatantly obvious that a person like T.I has unwittingly become A �Targeted Individual!�

The T.I later explained that she was on a �hate list� after inquiring to the F.B.I. Are the covert stalkers fully aware of that fact?

The family of POOR Magazine/POOR News Network, including me, are targeted 24/7, because of the work that we do.

Poor communities of color vs land grabbers, youths vs the police vs the legal system, poor single mothers vs Child Protective Services vs corrupt judges, and unheard voices vs corporate mainstream media gives a frightening detail of the word itself, and not only from a covert persuasion.

Origins of covert perpetrators and stalkers who participate in these "operations" are usually people who willfully engage or are brainwashed in a structured, hate-filled environment.

The acts (and especially weapons) in question, comes from methods invented, used, and abused by primary U.S. �law enforcement� agencies and not just holocaustic hate groups, like the Ku Klux Klan:

The Federal Bureau of Investigations (F.B.I) (and its activist attacking operation program, COINTELPRO) Central Intelligence Agency (C.I.A) National Security Association (NSA) and the highly opposed warrant less use of numerous surveillance cameras �Big Brother.�

The weapons and devices of technological terror commonly used by the some of the above said law enforcement agencies and military armies are as follows:

Directed Energy Weapons (D.E.W.S) en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Directed-energy_weapon

.Satellites www.surveillanceissues.com

.V2K (Voice to Skull/Mind Control) www.voicetoskull.com/Perps.htm

.Microwave Weapons www.mondovista.com/microwave.html

(Among many others)

In my follow up article of, �Electronic Harassment� the voices of victims who are gang stalked, electronically harassed, attacked, and targeted in general, continue to echo into ears for help.

Sadly, many of those ears voluntarily remain deaf when it comes to their situations, particularly political figures who disguise themselves as �public servants.�

I stated in �Electronic Harassment� of the Age of Technology Terror, �These victim's voices are seldom taken seriously due to the ignorance, disbelieving, scrutiny, and even ridicule resulting from such acts actually taking place leading many governmental authorities and their counterparts to conclude that such mysterious acts are "absurd" or "preposterous."

Unfortunately, there are living testimonies that state otherwise.

�The people that do not know about this are the ones who help reinforce the notion that all of us are delusional.� Dr. John Hall, author of �A New Breed: Satellite Terrorism in America stated to me via email, �I am hoping to remedy some of that through education.�

Dr. Hall, a T.I, (Targeted Individual) himself, risked his entire career towards exposing this form of seemingly-invisible technological terror in his book. Unfortunately, these perpetrators covert themselves behind the ignorance of society.

"However, before one comes to that conclusion, you've usually told your boss, family or physician that you're hearing voices or being attacked with unseen weapons. They, in turn, start the psychiatric ball rolling and before you know it you've been diagnosed as delusional and are totally discredited. Victims organizing and educating the public will be our way out.�

Damien T., a T.I had a job with a multi-national aerospace manufacturer, global security, and advanced technology company. Consequently, he had to deal with a hostile work environment before he was laid off in 2007.

Things about his personal life were blurted out in conversations, even from his supervisor. This is what has been happening according to Torres�s account:

�My manager would talk about things that I would do on the weekend while talking with other co-workers.

He wouldn�t specify my name, but it was things he would blurt out for no reason; things that I would do on the weekends in my own home. These conversations were made close enough to my cubicle so that I would hear them. It�s obvious these incidents were intentional.�

Damien later began to experience things of the technological terror persuasion.

�I first realized I was targeted back around late 2008. From what I remember, it was around September. I noticed noise campaigns from my Asian neighbors. There were incidents such as constant door slamming, stomping in front of my bedroom window, trash thrown around our condo, graffiti on our garage door. Also, I noticed a lot of unfamiliar faces at restaurants and bars.

Groups of people would walk in and sit around my area constantly looking towards my way. I also noticed them talking about my habits there were personal. Some remarks were personal in nature. It seemed to die down around December 2008.�

But much to the surprise of Damien, they apparently had not.

�Towards the end of December 2008, I noticed odd noises throughout our condo unit, noises that followed me through my home.� he said. �I would leave my bedroom and I would hear thumps (in the walls/ceilings) as I walked through the hallway and into the front room.

These odd noises still continue to this very day throughout my mother�s condo unit.

All of her furniture, walls/ceilings, appliances, etc are constantly being hit with a sonic wave of varying frequencies. For example, the thump will sound louder depending on what�s being hit and how forceful the sonic wave is.

I learned that computers (or digital computers) can be used to send out ultrasonic waves for harassment purposes. I am guessing these computers are used in tandem with our own government satellites (NSA). I can�t imagine how some nut job in our government could come up with such an idea to specifically harass someone.�

Damien believes he is a victim of V2K (Voice to Skull). His is based on some odd noises he�s heard inside his head that sounded like a cheap-low frequency radio transmitter.

�The noises and voices also seem to be multi-directional.� He explained. �It turns out that the V2K were coming from my own next door neighbors. The voices seemed to have an Asian accent. They would say words in Asian which I wouldn�t understand or they would talk to me in English.�

What the apparent motive (and strange eviction tactic) by his neighbors was to force him to move out since he has been unemployed for awhile.

Another T.I, name Diana M. a housewife with strong religious faith has underwent so much technological terroristic trauma that she herself began to question the level of her sanity. She bombarded me with a variety of supporting documents indicating no insanity.

Diana believes that the people involved are members of the K.K.K.(Ku Klux Klan) What she is undergoing is a form of mental rape and/or control. This was an account of what happened to her, seven years ago:

�The first time I new something was wrong was the day I couldn't walk forward.� She explained. �I could walk backwards and sideways, but something was not allowing me to move forward at all.

I finally had to sit down and have an old acquaintance go get his car, walk backwards into it until I arrived at his home, then I could walk. Now trust me, I totally thought it was me.�

Then the V2K period came for her, about two years later.

�I was sitting in my kitchen and all of a sudden, I heard a baseball game out of nowhere. Now I don�t watch baseball or ever listen to it. I checked with my husband, but he had no idea. Every time I would turn my head a certain direction, I would hear a ball game.

This went on for I believe maybe � hour at the most then the talking began. They wanted to make it seem completely spiritual, like I was walking down a certain spiritual path (shamanism) to be exact.�

Ironically, this was during a period where Diana was on a path towards spirituality.

�I also remember in the beginning someone kept recording something that I said, or they said and switched it around. They completely started messing with my mind. The things that they do to a person, I know is something that my own mind would not make up.�

Diana has had sleep deprivation, body swelling, and other forms of pain because of these acts. She even states that her and her husband tried to retreat underground in mines, but to no avail, the sounds actually followed her there. These methods by the unknown perps were to also destroy her marriage.

�They fill you with absolute fear, a vicious fear to look at yourself or anyone else even my husband. Through all of these attacks, I have been baptized confirmed, and married within the last five years.�

To my knowledge and testimonies by the above T.Is, these attacks are ongoing.

In �Electronic Harassment� I listed a T.I as being anonymous, due to her fear for retaliation. Christine Lynn Harris, T.I and Anti-Organized Stalking activist decided to no longer be ruled by fear. She strongly believes her attackers involve a property manager, a law firm, and a member of the San Francisco Police Department Mission District Station.

All the attacks that occurred upon Christine, was after her �Notice of Complaint� was sent by her to the Attorney General Office, last year.

Her courage grew immensely when she took it really personal when her organs were hit with untold amounts of radiation. �I can handle the mental issue, but when you attack my body well now it�s personal!�
She was a constant E.R patient to a point where her organs have been significantly been damaged.

Although I originally listed Christine as being �anonymous� it did not take long for her enemies to figure out who story it was. They began to retaliate.

Her car was �towed� a short time after it was published, even though her parking didn�t violate any parking and safety laws. The S.F City Attorney�s Office reimbursed her the monies she paid to retrieve her car.

A C.D was placed by her car marked �murder� beside her car. Her computer has been hacked. A second attempt to �tow� her car took place, only to be thwarted by her upon discovering their weird activities outside. After taking their sketchy picture, she posted it online at YouTube.

The big question by us both was �Since when do tow truck companies ride around looking for expired license plates of parked cars? Isn�t that a job for a police or a traffic safety officer?�

Christine believes that her car may have some sort of tracking or listening device hidden in her car based on the unexplained events around her.

She�s outreached, spent her own money, and appealed to numerous politicians across the nation to put an end to these acts of terror and control. Very little has been done to eliminate the problem. Christine has even been on an online show regarding targeted victims, and told her story, but the problems still persist.

Not too long ago, I sent a letter (and published it online) to the White House, urging President Barack Obama and his administration to investigate these crimes. �Those responsible should be held accountable for these crimes.� I said.

Only time will tell if the Obama Administration will step up to the task.

Like many T.I.s who are gripped by fear, isolation, anxiety, discouragement, and despair; they come to realize that only they can take action. Reluctant, fearful, and emotional, the inner strength and rage is what collectively combines their voices to combat the covert terror they meet each day.

Today exists a wide T.I network ranging locally and globally plan to protest a nationwide crises call to action, (throughout the month of October) as a first step to end this covert terror.

Targeted Individuals� have decided to appeal to themselves for help by communicating and outreaching online on Yahoo, YouTube, Mind Justice (www.mindjustice.org/victims.htm, etc, etc. Their only hope to finally get society to see the covert hands that cover their voices.

�Persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.�
2 Corinthians 4:9

by Joe B.

While looking a the last two hour Xena[Warrior Princess]
the emergency broadcast broke into the show explaining

that a major 7.9 earthquake off the coast of Peru, Chile,
and Bolivia killing many people and destroying buildings
is heading to toward
San Francisco
after hitting Los Angeles taking an hour to
get here at 2:39 am Sunday.

The show resumes as I watch it thinking of what
a
Tsumami looks like. Aside from a disaster show where
I saw people actually looking at one up close getting swept
into the sea as it hit them with terrifying force.

"Now that was a stupid thing to do" is my thinking when
it suddenly came to me, "I could check it out forgetting
what I just said about people doing the exact same thing.

When Xena ended I set my alarm for 1 am watching

"Saturday Night Live" with two Hilarious skits on the Bush Presidency
and later if Nader was President as pink pigs flew, devils playing with
snowballs with Nader shaking hands with them.

I awake before the 1 am alarm.
quickly washing up, get dressed, wore two shirts, a black sweatshirt
with a zippered front pouch inside is a notepad, pen, and taperecorder.
Its not cold but breezy, on the way I hear sirens, see police cars
people gather outside a bar as two more sit on the pavement
while three police write notes.

A purple van rode by inside are two pretty women,

both are well formed black woman. They call out "We're Prostitutes."

My peripheral vision saw them but being
so intent on not missing a rare natural event I say
"I have something else to see." I thought immediately what
they’d think, another gay guy walking up Polk Street.

I hadn’t walked up Polk Street to Fisherman’s Wharf
in years but I still walk all over the city so I’m
not out of shape.

Endurance seems to be my natural Wild Card power
however intelligence or plain mother wit
may not have been hardwired into my wetware.

The closer I get to the 900 beach and The Natural Historical Park
and Maritime Marine Museum I’m thinking what have I done?

"Going to the site of a Pacific Tsunami, in dawn’s dark,
without friends or a floatation device is nuts.

I go to check the water by the lit lamps I do not see much beach sand.

The wait is long when arriving at 2 am on a quiet
Fisherman’s Wharf and a few people walking the Wharf or

in the curved apartment building looking out at the waters.

When 2:39 am arrived there is a sigh of relief
from me as I now know if the
Tsunami had been a been heading at me I’d wouldn’t
be able to out run and having no bus fare only adds to my inspired idiocy.

I’m walking back home craning my neck just in case I might have to run away.

By 3:19 am. safe at home the minor non adventure over
I sleep thinking how stupid-curious I am and if we as a global civilization
can balance these and other drives
we as a species might survive our searchings and wonderlust to learn
from nature maybe all those horrible deaths will have meaning.

And as for myself on Sunday Gay Pride Day.
I am at my office sending a quick Darwin Award Story

to Art Bell because I must laugh at my gene defect and yet.

If there was a circular rip in time’s continuum that appeared in
front of me I’d probably jump in for the adventure of it
but that's just me.

I know we all do dumb things, but I
actually heard the warning and still went out to see what a Tsunami really looks like.

My adventure done,
I’ll go home and fix up my one room apartment.

Please send donations to
Poor Magazine C/0 Ask
Joe at 255 9th St.
Street, San Francisco, CA. 94103 USA

For Joe only my snail mail: PO Box 1230 #645

Market St.San Francisco, CA 94102

Email:
askjoe@poormagazine.org

by Ken Moshesh, Anna Morrow

CIRCLE DANCE

…SO NOW,

THEY RENAME US,

TO

MEMBERS OF THE LODGING TRIBE,

AND

REMOVE US FROM THE LAND

FOR HAVING TO SLEEP

THERE…Ken Moshesh

I have been homeless in and around the Berkeley area for the past 7 years. I have managed to be a productive, albeit homeless, citizen despite the condescending and negligent attitudes of the society surrounding me. For the most part I have been able to conduct my life without incident, relative to my seemingly provocative status as a homeless person, until the past 2 months. Something happened recently and I find myself fighting for my life; drowning in the prejudice and discrimination of our society's laws and attitudes towards homelessness. I can think of several reasons for why this may be occurring.

It may be because of my political activities in the Bay Area during the 60's and 70's. It may be a consequence of my writings and media activities on behalf of homeless folks. It could be the numerous discussions about UC Berkeley homeless policies (or non-policies) which I conducted on the campus beneath the Juniper tree. Maybe it was my recent attempt to have the book I wrote and the 3 videos I produced considered for curriculum material in relevant UC courses. Maybe it was that one of my films was submitted to a recent Film contest.

Probably it is the summation of all of these individual truths. In any event, I was about to find out that my life's work and rights as a human being were under siege. And there would be much more injustice, profiling and harassment by the Berkley police and the university police, to follow. And that ultimately, would lead to the forsaking of my beliefs that positive solutions and human rights were being championed by the supposedly progressive thinkers of the University officials themselves.

It began on September 27, 2000 when one of the University Police Officers was giving me a citation, “for lodging on campus”. He very loudly insisted that I must have a criminal record if I was “lodging on campus”. I publicly rebuked his inaccurate assumptions. The officer was noticably embarrassed when his radio communications yielded my record: an undergraduate, graduate and teaching career at UC Berkeley; not the criminal record which he had assumed.

The next incident occurred on October 27th at approximately 7:30 in the morning. I had gathered up my belongings and was heading across campus towards the stairs enjoying the fresh air. Suddenly the light clean air left by the recently ended rain was polluted with an ominous whisper: “Hurry! Hurry! He's coming down. I don't want him to hear my voice.”

Looking in the direction of her informant, a Univeristy of California PD Officer hurried up the stairs towards me. “Oh, it's you”, she muttered. She ordered me to drop my gear and produce my ID. She told me to turn around and handcuffed me. She confiscated my bags, and then said, "YOU PEOPLE SHOULD SLEEP OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, NOT HERE." I told her that was not an option because of security guards there. We walked in silence to the police car.

We waited until one of her cohorts pulled up and she informed me that I have a warrant on my record. I’ve been expecting this because 2 weeks earlier I was told by Berkeley Traffic personnel that they could not find any computer information verifying any citations. They gave me an official letter indicating this absence and told me to SHOW THIS LETTER TO POLICE PERSONNEL should I have any need to before coming back at the end of the month to secure a court date. I would need a court date to deal with two previous lodging citations. In order to clear up this warrant business I asked to show the official letter to the officer. I got no response.

Instead I was whisked off to Berkeley City Jail. I was jailed so quickly, no one read me my rights, declared me under arrest, or formally charged me. I wouldn’t receive formal charges UNTIL THE FOURTH DAY OF my INCARCERATION...CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK.

I was told to take out my shoelaces if I wanted to keep my shoes with me and the drawstrings from my jacket to keep that (they wouldn't come out). During the electronic fingerprinting the UCPD officer commented on my layered clothing and told me that my sleeping bag was too big to fit in the milk crates where they store our property. She told me it would be held at the university police station. She then took my other bag which contained my self-published book and said it would go to the station as well, even though it would easily fit into a milk crate.

I recall some of my experiences in jail:

FRIDAY - I'm dubbed AFD483. SLOW HOURS AFTER 7:30 A.M. YIELD: A BAG LUNCH AND A SWANSON DINNER, A CALL TO A DISTANT RELATIVE. I am denied access to and not allowed to take my Berkeley Free Dental Clinic prescribed abcess medicine because, "It's improperly labeled".

SATURDAY- 24 hours pass in stony silence punctuated by occassional prison guard 'etiquette'.

SUNDAY- A jailor erroneously tells me that I am charged with tresspassing and have a warrant. Bail is set at $3500. I won't be allowed to make any phone calls. Nothing is presented to me in writing.

MONDAY- We leave Berkeley's City Jail for Processing at Santa Rita, the Alameda County Jail. I am finally allowed consultation with the public defender where I am informed of the following:
The official charges are 2 counts of Lodging (647J), not Trespassing, and I have no warrant outsatnding. I recieve this in writing, though it is lacking the ussual court date. That afternoon we return to Berkeley for court. We are taken to the holding cell, chained together 13 strong, where proceedings are put over until Tuesday morning.

Back at Santa Rita we are crammed into an overcrowded holding cell, like rush hour BART passengers marooned in a sealed off tunnel, waiting for proccessing. The proccessing takes all night long. There are TB shots and a medical interview. WHAT IS YOUR SEXUAL ORIENTATION? DO YOU HAVE ANY ENEMIES IN HERE? HOW DOES THE PHONE WORK? WHAT ARE YOU IN FOR? SLEEPING OUTSIDE ? DAMMN!!... Until it’s time to board the morning bus back to court in Berkeley, without chains this time. We line up to go to the various city jails. A near-skirmish breaks out reminding us all of the danger of our surroundings.

TUESDAY - The Judge's decision comes down on 10/31/00. I plead guilty to two lodging citations. Negotiations through the public defender results in the following conditions:

Probation for 24 months

Credit for 5 days served in jail

A 1OO dollar fine payable in a year

Be of good conduct

Report any change of address

Stay away form all UC buildings and the UC campus. ('unless on lawful business' was crossed out during negotiations)

Retrieve property from campus at UC Berkeley with civil standby only.

The next day at my official homeless address, I am given two envelopes containing the same warrant(#165844). They are dated the 26th and 27th of October. The 27th was the day of my so-called arrest.

When I call the UCPD to inquire about my property I am told by the arresting officer that I will be fingerprinted, booked and probably released if I come in for my property because they are not sure if the warrant is still in effect.

So I decide to go to the Berkeley courthouse first to obtain a copy of the Official Clerk's Docket and Minutes. I am told that the warrant has been taken care of as customary, by the court proceedings of the 31st.

The official minutes confirm my recollection that the judge orally agreed to my being able to conduct lawful business on campus. That stipulation had been manually crossed out on the official court probation document that I recieved, leaving me totally banned from all activities at the university. The docket from the Berkeley courthouse does not mention anything about a warrant; it contains only 2 counts of lodging and a 2000 dollars bail.

There had been so many “interpretations” regarding my warrant situation that I was unclear about the final result. I decided not to retrieve my property from UCPD as they had threatened me with further incarceration.

The entire ordeal had left me so frustrated and exhausted. Still, I was determined not to give into the anger. Right when I’m thinking that things can’t get much lower I learn that I have received an award of excellence for my video "Endangering the Species"! The Berkeley Film Festival 2000 has chosen me to be the recipient of the award in the Ethnography category. This feels like high praise and just in time for my battered dignity.

Ironcially, my latest video, "Primal Urban Sprirt Pulsating" which I began at the Associated Students of the University of California Art Studio will now have to be completed somewhere else.
The people who have honored my work with an award of excellence have just banned me from stepping foot on University property!

Subsequent to my arrest I would be interviewed by a reporter fromn the Daily Californian for a story she would title “HOMELESS ARTIST ANGRY OVER ARREST (11/21/ 2OOO). Bill Cooper, UC Police Captain and spokesperson, responded saying, "Ken Moshesh, who is currently homeless, had incurred numerous citations that led them to ban him from campus."

I have recieved three citations over seven years for being homeless in this area. The last two and the "arrest" occured within a two month period. One could then assume that having three citations is grounds for banishment from campus.

Capt. Cooper continues: "Miranda Rights do not have to be read in all circumstances. He was arrested under warrant for lodging. Miranda Rights only have to be read if there is a question about the crime. But there was already enough evidence to establish the fact that he was lodging. People aren't supposed to sleep in building."

Not only was I not read any rights at all, I was never declared to be under arrest.
I was stopped walking down the Dwinelle Annex carrying two bags, not inside a building. I was not, as they have alleged, found lying in a sleeping bag.

Apparently walking down the stairs with two bags at 7:30
in the morning was not sufficient grounds for establishing my guilt. They had to say that I was "lying in a sleeping bag" and "in a building" to substantiate their lodging claim so they could rush me to jail.

Their embellishments also serve to protect society's rampant denial of the fact that too many Americans have to sleep outside of buildings; on concrete, wood and dirt in this land of plenty.

Article 25 of the United Nation's Universal Declaration of Human Rights says: "Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well being of himself (herself) and his (her) family including food, clothing, housing and medical care..."

I carry on, still homeless,
but now I’m on probation, I’m banned from my place of work and I have a criminal record.

My life's work has been about helping to bring this country closer to it’s own Declaration of Human Rights by sharing the experience of homelessness and engaging others in positive solutions. Why, I’m wondering, has a university that prides itself as being a cradle for civilized discourse made it so unneccessarily dificult for me to share my work?

This university should not emulate the uninformed portion of society by attemptinmg to hide, disguise and incarcerate homelessness. The UC's elitist Not-In My-Backyard policies turns a public campus into private property at night.

What the university should do to validate itself as an institution of higher learning is rally to the forefront of the issue. It could marshall its vast public and private resources to help develop a humane, viable solution to homelessness consistent with their avowed politcal prinicples. They would, with their reputation and history, present a leadership role worthy of the new millenium.

12/12/0O

Also by Ken Moshesh:

Books
* Cobblestoning Quicksand Mazes

Videos
* Homeless to Hollywood
* Endangering the Species
* Primal Urban Spirit Pulsating

I HAD PLANNED TO USE THE EICHORN DECISION OF THE FOURTH APPELLATE DISTRICT COURT WHICH SAYS IN PART,”AN INDIVIDUAL WHO HAS NO REASONABLE ALTERNATIVE TO SLEEPING IN A PUBLIC PLACE IN SANTA ANA NEED NOT TRAVEL IN SEARCH OF STREETS AND OTHER PUBLIC PLACES WHERE HE CAN CATCH HIS 40 WINKS.”-THE NECESITY DEFENSE [‘EICHORN DECISION UPHOLDS SLEEP AS A HUMAN RIGHT,”MARCH 1999, STREET SPIRIT ] AT MY TRIAL.

I HAD STARTED EDITING THE MASTER FOR “PRIMAL URBAN SPIRIT PULSATING” AT THE ASUC ART STUDIO JUST A FEW DAYS BEFORE THE “ARREST’AND A WEEK AFTER OUR PRO-HOMELESS CONCERT ON THE AMANDALA SHOW BROADCAST ON THE UNIVERSITY RADIO STATION KALX ON THE 15TH OF OCTOBER 2000.

by A. Faye Hicks

The Pagan goddess Esther of long ago

Seated on her throne

Handing out colored Easter Eggs, to her little Bunnies

The Bag Lady in Red, shaking her cup, trying to make a buck

The pharmacies filled with baskets for capital gain

Decorating their windows with wares, to make the queen a profit

Big chocolate bunnies, little pink and yellow rabbits, nestled in greenery

While the Winds and Sands of War, Run Rampart

Up and down the City streets, the shoppers are jostled

The Protesters of War

March with Pride

March in Stride

Hurry, hurry the winds of war is a Terror, a Worry

No houses, no jobs, no Food, no Money

Although the Easter Bunny is coming!

The War Machines Scurry

Oil for Food shouts the Army General

Food not Bombs the people shout

The Mayor of San Francisco Screams

“Stop marching and disrupting my City”

protest this War on your own “Home Base!”

Or “Homeless will have to pay this $900,000 a day

Out of the Care not Cash we set aside for They

Let them put on their Homeless Bonnet

I Hope that Paves the Way

Still the Easter Bunny is on its Way

Hiding colored eggs in city parks

In Glide and St. Anthony’s Food lines

Hop, Hoppity, Hop!

The Muni Bus is stopped

The streets are Blocked

The City of San Francisco is under seige

The mounted police is shouting Please!

As Rocks and Bottles are being hurled, scaring their Thoroughbred Ponies

“ Oh where can I hide my Colored Eggs?”

so they wont be confused as Hand Grenades

2, 000 arrested and detained

The Mayor screams “More Money to be deducted out of the Homeless Pockets”

They can forget about our promises and their Dreams

We have to pay the Police double time

We have to pay the Police triple Time

We don’t care if the Homeless don’t have a Dime

Just stop the Protesters March

Because the Easter Bunny is on His Way!

The Tourist Trade is “Money to be Made”

Their Shopping Shant be Stopped

Hop, Hoppity, Hop!

A. Faye Hicks
March 31, 2003

by Thornton Kimes

“It’s about the gentrification of all aliens
Humans and abroad
They look different to us but I bet we looking odd
About how humanity can just put you in a place
Even where there is no space
And even out of there
They still got chased…”

--District 9 Notes by Ruyata McGlothin

Sometimes I think Peter Jackson is God. I read “The Lord of the Rings” before going into high school, but didn’t really understand it until Jackson started directing the movies and I re-read the whole thing. Tolkein may or may not have understood eco-consciousness, but his Ents sure as hell did, and the Hobbits got theirs back when the Fellowship of the Ring returned from their adventures.

Jackson has struck gold, again, with “District 9”, an original science fiction dystopian present/future movie, a story about aliens crashlanding right in the middle of one of the most infamous poverty-stricken areas on Earth—South African shanty-towns (and places like Lesotho, which I think are still classified as “countries” inside South Africa) which, despite the “end” of Apartheid, haven’t disappeared into economic prosperity for all. Which happens to be true, as well as brutally displayed on the big screen.

There is so much to talk about here, whether or not you like/love science fiction/fantasy (my first love in reading, along with superhero comic books…which I can’t afford to buy anyway…). District 9 reminds me of “Alien Nation” (A. N.), the movie (1988) and the tv series (1989), but the D-9 aliens, nicknamed “Prawns” (replace that with “Wetback”, “Nigger”, “Redneck”, “White Trash”, “Fag”…) aren’t as cuddly and human-looking as the stranded A.N. ex-slaves.

One of the “Alien Nation” aliens became a cop, teamed up with a human. There have been numerous novels written based on video games, tv series (Star Trek, for one), etc. In one “Alien Nation” novel, SLAG LIKE ME (“Slag” was the nasty slang term for the you-know-who), a Black journalist became a Slag via plastic surgery—and was discovered to be a black-skinned human by a White racist…who murdered him.

Simple motives for devastating events like murders tend to generate unintended consequences and ricochet through peoples’ lives like old-school steel pinball game balls.
The last hit between the eyes in SLAG LIKE ME is a public poll, published in a newspaper and yakked about on tv, that reveals that Humans think “Slags” are, well, White People…because they look like White People.

The “Prawns” crash-land and their mother-ship hovers over Johannesburg, South Africa, for 20 years before the events of the movie begin. Anti-gravity anyone? The alien mothership and the alien ghetto have been getting on everyone’s nerves, and encouraging the local crime bosses to ever greater outrages, so the authorities decide to move their uninvited guests to “District 10”, much farther from the city and, at least on tv, “cleaner” and not chaotic.

So you get the idea nobody would hire one of these guys to be a cop. The lie-of-the-budget-cut that POOR Magazine frequently talks about, poor folks given only crumbs, forced to fight other brands of poor folk for the limited supply of crumbs, and then forced to endure things like San Francisco Mayors and California Governors dissing us and slashing the crumbs into ever smaller pieces…comes out brilliantly, and with a subtle visual twist of the knife—a poor Black South African talks to the television news media about hating and fearing the Prawns, because they steal their stuff and then kill them…as a Prawn digs through a dumpster behind the person being interviewed.

The aliens have human names, we never learn any others (echoes of American slavery). Did humans just decide this didn’t matter, or is there some other reason for this unanswered detail?

“Bad News” Bruce Allison, elder scholar and so much more at POOR Magazine, also saw District 9. “People were walking out of the theater, acting like they were looking for ‘Star Wars’, or maybe they’d left their brains at the candy counter,” he said in a conversation with me. “District 9” isn’t “Independence Day”, though I enjoyed that movie. It turned the aliens into the eco-nasties, instead of little ol’ us struggling with self-inflicted global warming, but did anyone notice?

District 9 forces you to take time to understand whazzup. A fictional documentary with bursts of “real life” events as the eviction/gentrification of the Prawns gets rolling, awkwardly and chaotically, the construction of the characters and how much we develop any sort of empathy, dislike, or hatred for them, is as skillfully done as in Slumdog Millionaire.

The Prawns’ language makes it even harder to identify with them. Imagine my shock at discovering how much I did as the movie went along, and the various heroes and villains get under your skin in so many interesting and disturbing ways. I even learned to like and/or respect the man appointed to “lead” the effort to move the Prawns (a man you could trust to maybe do your plumbing, or file your income taxes, but--), a character who I think is the best definition of “fictional love/hate relationship” I’ve so far encountered.

Walking a mile in someone’s shoes, or traveling light years that way, is a staple of magic realism and science fiction. Think Kafka and the man who became a cockroach. There are science fiction tales that take Kafka’s cockroach for a ride on that boobytrapped bus in “Speed”, but few better than this one. If it is difficult for you, the reader, to wrap your head around someone wanting to be a different sex, how about being forced to change species?

You think he’s the perfect man to take the fall for his boss when things inevitably go wrong, but when this gentrification-on-steroids goes bad, it becomes what POOR Magazine staff writer Vivian Hain calls “Wrongology”. You think he’s a really shallow,
evil person, then you find out he isn’t, then you find out he can be a good guy and a bad guy and somebody seeming to lose his mind so thoroughly he doesn’t believe he’ll ever find it again.

If Peter Jackson never makes a “District 10” sequel, that’s okay with me. The reverberations and what-came-next ruminations will be rattling around in my head like dice for a long time. The only thing currently moving in any sort of perceptible forward-like direction in my life is POOR Magazine and POOR Press—DISTRICT 9 came along at a good time, doing what art is supposed to do, kick (insert appropriate name or pronoun) in the metaphorical ass.

Ruyata’s poem does the same thing:

“We didn’t create them yet and still we put them up
In South Africa
After they torn down shanti towns
For the World Cup
How one of us slowly became one of them
And just how his value depleaded
All down to one limb
About change, and how ready for it we aint”

by Leroy Moore, Darla Lennox, Maria Palacios, Zilwood, Tiny

Its X-mas, and we'r stressd yes, cus we'r the financially weak Brits/_But at least students wont be outside the University handing me Leaflets/__And Pointless flyers/ for "great" bargain buyers/ _Taxi Hires/and free drink coupons that you cant use cus there liers/_But it's that time of year t...hat always tiers/ __Where Mass corporations enslave december/ _"Holidays Are Coming" is now Coca-Cola's Agenda/_and the meaning of Xmas is to get pissed up on the Bender/_and stuffed with that Turkey so Tender/

Zillwood from London, England (Christmas 2009)

by Joe B.

King’s Living Legacy

Martin Luther King’s birthday is Monday its also a Federal Holiday.

King’s dream of character over color still isn’t realized but we the spiritual son’s and daughter’s the King Legacy won’t give up or into this fall into the past by Selected President B Jr.

King’s own son’s and daughter’s thrive with children of their own so both legacies continue strong into the early 21st century.

Christ like honorable, courageous,bold,and insightful his assassination only creates more people who will not let go the struggle, teaching siblings,and their progeny to remember why our leaders died in the first place.

There’s not much more to say only remember why Mr. M.L. King and others died and continue to die for the free will and freedom of all.

Speaking of death, supreme sacrifice,isn’t it time we try to live our lives as best we can studying how to further the human life span.

President Bush’s return and moon base speech is less Kennedy than "thousand light thing" of his former President Bush Sr.

It sounded like a desperate grasping at straws for a legitimate re-election bid.

Instead of the Turkey surprise troop visit to Baghdad photo op why take many or all of those hard working, GI’s home to families and friends.

He could’ve used his presidential cache to go out on the limb saying "There’s been too much destruction,death, of soldier’s,and innocent women,men,and children; Let’s challenge our best thinkers not only in America but around the globe to go after the worst super predator stalking Mankind – Death."

Starting now in late 2003 and 2004 and beyond a non stop effort to eliminate sickness, disease,and conquer death once and for all and in its place life extension, cryonics and eventual immortality to everyone."

Ok,its probably a political ploy for re-election and in his heart he's not 'feelin it but you know what happens in spite of his doubts?

Scientists young,old, their students from college,high and middle school from all over the world will be galvanized to the near impossible to set the goal earlier than humanity would believe!

It would make discovery of the double helix, Moon shot,Russian-America handshake in space,and even manned voyage to Mars pale in comparison.

The announcement does not have to be made by a sitting President but from Senator,to Congress men/ women can do the same, others can begin speaking out until the idea becomes popular and widespread.

Hey,it’s a thought.

Myself silently fuming as one of the older less cash folk and closet cryonics and immoralist I cannot wait for the have folks to "get it" then not leave ‘po folks out of the equation.

Guess my way will be to scramble,make money different all legal (mostly)and being an organization that’s non political dedicated to the proposition "Immortality belongs to all,those not wanting it can live their lives but don’t prevent, or otherwise interfere with life extension/ immoralist efforts of friends,families or strangers."

Yes,it would be an open secret organization crossing all political, religious,racial, cultural,and sexual orientation lines.

From liquid gels,drugs, pills, cocktails,to genetic manipulation of DNA and deeper into the molecular strands and germ lines.

Until life extended individuals, Aging) people and immortals-by-genetic birthright are more of the population than Norm-A (Normal Aging) humans.

Because like mutants humans and normal there could be a literal killing war of ideas about what natural life and death is and the deathward-ly mobile will fight to keep their beliefs though antiquated alive trying to reconvert confused on-the-fence x-tension folks from taking that pill,drug,or gene therapy that will add centuries or render them immortal and a member in the fraternity of eternal or E-Women and Men.

I might have to fake a death and move on as others take charge of immortal making world wide and only return when 99% of humanity true birthright is automatic immortality at certain age-stops from 24 to 90 of course because of age slowing,retarding, and regenerative regiments a 90 year old could look 25, have disease resistance of 12,and sexual energies of 14,18,20 year olds and their health will remain fit and high.

The new vampires are us,immortals walking in day light sucking on life itself not on others life’s blood.

Who knows I or others with more money,time,and imagination might succeed but someone has to get life extension to eventual immortality going.

It’s the only way go off world living on other planetary bodies,space habitats,or time travel forward or back.

Now that’s something I’d like to do if immortality is earned by me. I’d have to be circumspect,be invisible, and observe without changing history which involves falling in live with famous or soon to be famous or infamous women, avoiding certain men, groups,wars,or other situations.

Not being on the ‘Mary Celeste'-1884, Titanic- 1912, Lusitania-1915,or Andrea Doria-1956,also on planes,trains,cars, busses,for example I wouldn’t want to accidentally trade places with Mr. Wally Post or Will Rogers fateful plane trip of 1935 but not being able to keep all those tragedies in my head means one or more of those fatal accidents will get me.

What I’m saying is I’d rather wait for life eternal than be a time traveling mortal.

First immortality then time travel because barring accident, homicide,or being in an non survivable event or war immortality comes handy if I avoided all the pitfalls including a jilted wife or former girl friend who’d want to kill me for simply living, staying,young,dating, marrying,and raising children while she aged.
(its from an old Twilight Zone episode staring Kevin McCarthy as a quiet professor,who was given the gift of eternal life.)

Its just a few of my ramblings,what would you do man or woman given the gift of perfect health mentally,physically and never age,get sick. A grade A true immortal!

What would you folks do with it?

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