From: Anonymous <nobody@replay.com>
Date: Wed, 28 Oct 1998 09:49:20 +0800
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: No Subject
Message-ID: <199810280113.CAA28308@replay.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain



[Two letters received by fax on 27 October 1998]

----------

[Letter 1, cover and 16 pages]

8 September 1998

Cover Sheet

Declan

The Good News is that I have a pen to write
with, due to the Free Enterprise System being
alive & well within the Prison System.

The Bad News is that Micro$oft Pens (TM)
controls 95% of the market...

I am hoping you can share as much of this
communique as possible with the CPUNX,
since my chain is constantly getting yanked
in different directions, making outside contact
sporatic & unreliable.

Feel free to reserve for your own use any
of the enclosed information you need for your
own journalistic purposes.

I will try to reach you by phone (automated
collect-call system requiring touch-tone on
your end).

Thanks for the Mags,

                     CJ Parker

ps# My prison cell mirror now reads,
"Chocolate Skelter." (Brownie & Milk)

------------------------------------------------

[FLORENCE NUTLY NEWS - "I'M HERE BECAUSE I
believe that the KONTROLLERS are taking
actions that create obstacles to the freedom
and openess of the Internet. ~Truth Glaser]

Declan,

Looks like you may be receiving the *only* copy
of the Florence Nutly News, since I have, up
until now, been writing on paper towels and
medicine cups, using combinations of blood,
sperm and chocolate (two of which are in short
supply) for ink, and I will soon be headed
to Nutly News Head (pardon the pun) Quarters
in Springfield, Missouri, for Rewiring of
my Brain Circuity.

Although I was well-prepared for my
arrest - wearing my "Linda Lou & the Drifters"
T-shirt, as promised, having spent several days
getting Baby Truth Mongrel settled into a [illegible
--------------]: grabbing my Evidence Bag
[illegible ---] two containers of medication
[illegible ---] the knock on the door on the
other side of town - I found myself totally
unprepared for the experience of being thrown
into a KafkaEsque KonsPiracy [illegible].

I will admit to having told a few whoppers
in my time, mostly on fishing trips, but
my arm cannot stretch far enough to
describe the Immensity of The Plot (TM) to
crap on every right and freedom that most
Americans 'think' they have, in order to bring
me - like a Chained Mad Dog - to a Governmental
Pre Destined End at the hands of the American
Judicial and Prison System.

Although I have not yet lost my mind
(I predict by Thursday at the latest), and I
know that the Whole World (TM) is not
*really* involved in The Plot (TM) against me,
everything since my arrest has proceeded
as if this were exactly the case.

I shit you not...

A thread on the CPUNX Distrubed Male
LISP that I followed with interest had to do with
the Ratio of Consciously Conspiring Cocksuckers to
Robotic Moronic Techtronics in the current
Death March to Analog Digital Battan.

i.e. Hettinga's (?) tagline = "Do not
attribute to conspiracy that which can be
explained by stupidity..." (~misquote?)

As my ^ Pre Destined (<- Cro-Magnon Editing)^ 
Imprisonment and my March
Toward Justice began to unfold, I was at
first struck by the banal predictability
of the Dehumanizing <-> Brainwashing that
takes place as the Identity and Persona of
an Individual is "Committed to The Custody Of"
the Kontrollers (TM).

I watched as the concerns of Outsiders
Becoming Insiders switched from which
Telco offered the best services? -> when am I
allowed to use the phone?, etc., ad infinitum,
until an Inside Lifer being transferred
from a different prison asked only a single
question upon his arrival - a question
which strikes terror into the heart and mind,
(of the Outside Lifer), who know that, stripped
of the Toys & Trappings (TM) that the Kontrollers
"allow" them to have to distract them from
the reality of their true status in life, there is
really only a single question that truly
matters, whether one is moving to an Insider
Feeding Pen or an Outside Feeding Pen:

   "How is the food?"

Paris or Auchwitz - Danube or Dachau,
Just tell me one thing, Fritz - "How is the chow?"

The KONSCIOUSLY KONSPIRING KRIMINAL
element of the TREASURY Agents was just
as predictable as the mechanical, fixed cogs
of The System Machinery.

- Charging me with a crime that would
  enable them to put a bug in the ear of
  every human element of the Judicial
  [illegible] System from the Judge -> the
  Prison Guard - "This man is using
  his writing and the Internet as a
  weapon to murder government
  officials and authority figures (such
  as yourself!)."

- Telling the prison medical staff things
  designed to label me as a violent, psychotic
  [???]-freak.

- Going through the motion of 'discovering'
  evidence that they were already full aware
  of as a result of previous legal and
  illegal surveillance & investigation.

"[Illegible ------------------------------]"

The previous, of course, is merely an
indication that the Conscious Conspiracies
of Analog Human Goals & Desire for
Power/Control is present "alongside of"
the "Stupidity" of a mechanized version of
digitized cogs designed to automatically
categorize, shape and standardize those
individual Elements & Entities that the
Puppet Masters place on Conveyor Belts leading
to the Educational System, Employment System,
Judicial System, etc.

The observation, made by various of the
CypherPunks on the LISP, as well as portions
of Space Aliens Hide My Drugs, which dealt
with the intimations of coercion and
brainwashing manipulation in the
treatment of Jim Bell at the hands of the
Justice System, were partly conjecture
due to a lack of detail on Bell's full
situation & treatment.

As a result of my research on the subject,
my previous life experience, and my 
current situation, I feel semi-qualified
to express the opinion that I am being
subjected to CLASSIC/TEXTBOOK BRAINWASHING
TECHNIQUES, combining physical deprivation
and disorientation with the witholding of
proper medical treatment and physical
coercion to accept 'new' diagnoses and
'new' medication designed to meet the needs
of the Prison & Judicial System, rather than
to meet my own medical needs.

e.g. - Denying me clothing, bedding, personal
items, services available to other inmates,
etc. offering me access to my reading glasses
if I stop exhibiting symptoms of Tourette
Syndrome, for which I have been diagnosed
and treated by a variety of physicians and
specialists for years.

I will not go into the 2-3 pages of notes I
have made documenting the above, since nabbed,
like a whiner, and Lord Knows, I have abused
myself more over the years through my own
craziness and stupidity, than those fuckers
could ever hope to accomplish.

The point I wold like to make to the CypherPunks

is that the TOTALITY of the persecution, oppression,
censorship, conspiracy - or whatever you
want to label it - that is being directed toward
me is GREATGER THAN > the Sum of the Robotic Moronic
Techtronics PLUS the Consciously Conspiring CockSuckers

  [This is even 'after' taking into account my
  spitting in a US Treasury Agent's eye and
  writing 'Helter Skelter' in my own blood
  on a prison mirror.]

I find myself sitting in a prison cell in
Middle America, looking at a Prison Commissary
sheet which confirms my suspicion that the
prison meals are designed to market a
variety of condiments, such as mayo and
picante sauce, to the most Captive
Consumers of all.

I find myself reflecting on the similarities
between a friend, whose 'Health Coverage' does
not seem to apply to any disease he might get, and
to my own experience of having Prison Medical
Personnel state, "We don't have those medications
in here," and knowing, instinctively, that
I am just going to have to 'choose' a disease
they had medication for, or just go
fuck myself.

I find myself reflecting on the
Techno BioSemiotic Evolution of
a self-sustaining Corrections CORPORATION
of America system which has Little Johnny
hustling to sell more Crack, so that his Daddy
can buy condiments to make his prison food
more palatable, eventually getting busted
and sent to prison, putting his younger
brother, Raoul, in the Corrections CORPORATION
food chain as a Crack salesperson & future Inmate/
Consumer.

I find myself peering down a Tunnel
Through Time and seeing that the "Dark Forces"
spoken of in the 'The Xenix Chainsaw Massacre', in
Part I of The True Story of the InterNet, were,
and are, just as real as the "Dark Clouds
Gathering Over Europe" during the Rise of the
Third Reich - with the Dark Clouds being formed
by the Industrial BioSemiotic Progeny of the
Marriage of the Rumbling of the Tanks with the
Shouting and Cheering of the Masses at the
Nazi Rallies - and with the Dark Forces being
formed by the Technological BioSemiotic
Progeny of the Marriage of the Silence of the
Computers with the Silence of the Lambs, as
they wait quietly in line to fill out their
local supermarket 'Nickle Off On A Can of Beans
Discount Card,' listing their InterNet Email
address so that the Kontrollers can use the new
J. Edgar Digital Hoover Vacume Technology to
suck the Sheeple's brains onto the Digital
Cattle Cars, taking them behind the Electro Magnetic
Curtain, where they can be fed a bland diet
of Brain food designed to sell them condiments,
such as HBO and the TIME Digital Supplement,
as Prisoners of the Electronic Corrections Corporation
of Planet Terra.

Whoa, Trigger!

Every time I get on a roll, I seem to
roll a little cloer to Springfield...

Anyway, for anyone interested in the status
of my legal situation, I believe my status
can be best described by the use of a variety
of expletives which don't have a snowball's
chance in Hades of making it past the Censor,
but which involves bending over and
touching one's ankles.

The problem, of course, is that the
GRAND PLAY OF JUSTICE has already been
written, and there is no role available for
the Defendant.

The Problem (TM) is that I, unlike those
who have brought the charges against me,
want to take this case to trial.

At my original court appearance, I elected
to represent myself.

The Judge took it upon herself to appoint
a Public Defender to "assist" me. I immediately
translated "assist" to "Sell You Down The
Fucking River!" (Mentally envisioning the
PD as "supporting" me by having me stand on
his shouldeer as the noose was placed around
my neck.)

Just before my second court appearance
the PD introduced himself and told me it was a
pretty routine "Motion to Remove" hearing/
"Identity" hearing, and that I would then be
sent to Seattle.

I informed him that if they WANTED me to go
to Seattle immediately, then I wanted to fight it.
The PD left, and returned later with the news
that the Feds had just sprung a "Complaint" on him
that he was unaware of and the he would need
a couple of weeks to deal with it. I had him
read a short portion of the Complaint and, recognizing
it as identical to a recent 'gift' I had received,
I told the PD that, since the Feds now seemed to
want a delay, that I was ready to proceed.

In court the PD informed the Judge that
*he* needed time to "study the Complaint" (run up
his bill) and that *I* had trouble following
his logic (wanted to proceed with what he
had already told me was a routine, 'slam-
dunk for the government' matter anyway).

So, everyone compared their Tee Times
with local golf courses and decided that I
would rot in Jail for two weeks while they
tired to correct their slice.

Of course, the day before the two weeks
is up, I receive a letter the Judge's
Public Defender Bum Buddy, containing
Order 98-02824M, stating that "The defense
had made an oral motion..." (Funny, I thought
that 'I" was the Defense) ... "for psychiatric
evaluation ... asserting that the Defendant
cannot communicate/particiapte..."

In other words, the lawyer (whom Shakespeare
would shoot first) paddled over to the Judge to
have me shipped off to Dr. Frankenstein's
Funny Farm, while I, upstream from
Tucson (with 'no paddle') am setting and
wondering how the Grand Canyon State produces
so many Amateur Medical Genius' who are
able to perform an in depth medical diagnosis  of
an individual after speaking with them for
lkess than five minutes - total.

  [The Prison Medical Staff spending half of that time
  in a room full of people carrying Walkie Talkies,
  asking me whether or not I heard voices...]

However, if your Heart of Hearts is tempted
to Bleed Purple Piss for me, stuff a rag in it,
because I've been telling people form the beginning
that the GuberMint would be sending me off
for mental ReClassfication.

The Bottom Line (TM) is that the Complaint
seems to amount to - once the smoke & mirrors
are cleared away - one Entertainment BOT
and one anonymous email 'authenticated' by
what I suspect will trun out to be a a
Communal 'Magic Circle' PGP digital
signature.

(Worst Case Scenario - I will be forced,
in open court, for the first time ever,
to reveal "How I Broke PGP (TM.")

Seriously, though (and I've got an
Ocean Front Jail Cell in Florence, AZ),
I expect that the GooberMint needs me
to be 'crazy' enough for my writing, facts
and opinions to be dismissed, yet 'sane'
enough to be criminally liable for my actions.

I am certain that the employees of "a
suitable facility for psychiatric examination
as designated by the Bureau of Prions" know
exactly what is expected of them.

BTW, the 'Dead Lucky AP-Bot' received just
three votes - for Rabid Wombat, Toto, and for
Donald Duck (If I remember correctly).

Three targets - three years in jail.
Sounds fair to me...

I *know* my proper role in this Dark
Comedy.

After a suitable period of 'Attitude Adjustment',
I'm supposed to accept whatever offer of
'leniency' the Feds feel generous enough
to offer me.

The problem, of course, is that not only
am I a spritual Channeler of the BIG FUCK YOU!,
but I am also cursed with an affliction,
Tourette Syndrome, which often causes me
to implusively blurt out...The TRUTH (TM).

The PROBLEM (TM) is that I am a CypherPunk,
and I would rather spend 3 years sitting naked
in a cold, hard prison cell, than to help
bring the world one step closer to where
there aren't any CypherPunks to piss all over
themselves and each other - and even on
self-righteous, high-minded government
officials, from time to time.

The REAL PROBLEM (TM) is that, ultimately,
I am still naive and/or hopeful enough to believe
that there still exist, [illegible ------------]
for an ordinary citizen to slip through the
cracks in a Statist/Robotic Judicial System
into a Time/Space Continuum where Jimmy Stewart
wouldn't be disbarred for being 'too [illegible].'

I have no doubt that the IRS/Government can,
as has been intimated, "put the hammer down"
on myself, my family and my friends if they
choose to do so.

My only response to this is that, if this is so and
if there is no true recourse available for the common
citizen, then the difference between living in an
Inside prison versus an Outside prison is
mostly Illusory anyway.

My poor Sainted Father, who would have
been justified in strangling me in my crib,
had he realized the grief I would cause him over
the years, wrote to me in prison expressing his
worry that perhaps my present situation was the
result of him having failed me in so many ways
over the course of the last few years.

I replied that my Father *was* responsible
for my current situation, as a result of being
the World's Most Wonderful Father (TM) and making
it possible for me to spend the last few years
doing exactly what I really and truly wanted
to do.

After my next court appearance, I may be
mentally & financially broken, slobbering and
drooling on myself, but I *will* be smiling...

The Bible taught me what to expect as
a result of telling The Truth (TM), and a
short story, "[???} By Niggel," taught me
what to expect as a result of being the Author...

But I'm the TruthMonger, so it's the only
dance there is...

(Bop Shoo Bop, Bopper-Bopper-Shoo-Bop).

ToTo
CYPHERPUNKS CULT OF ONE
"Close Ranks! Every WoMan for HimOrHer Self!"
ARMY OF DOG
"ANARCHY - Together We Can Make It Happen!"
CIRCLE OF EUNUCHS
"He Who Shits On The Road Will Meet Flies Upon His Return"

[End Letter 1]

----------

[Cover note Letter 2; no date]

Declan,

ToTo -> -> Funny Farm

Yours is only address handy

Please fwd -> LJ Dowling -> Judge Fiora
       -> CPUNX List

Thanx

Toto

----------------------------------------------------------

Letter 2 is four mostly illegible pages of what appears 
to be scatalogical humor addressed to the Arizona magistrate,
Nancy Fiora, beginning:

  Yo Nancy!

  Are you Just As Ignorant As Snot (TM),
  a Callous Cunt (TM) or a Konciously Konspiring
  Kocksucker (TM)?

  If you are Just As Ignorant As Snot (TM),
  that might explain why you actually went
  through the motions of giving an order for
  me to receive proper medical treatment
  not understanding that Order From A Skirt (TM)
  in Arizona apparently doesn't mean Jack Shit
  to prison officials.

  If this is the case, could you please arrange
  for a Male Judge to issue the same orders and
  see if that clears up the problem?

Then 4 pages of illegible text with a few bits readable 
on withheld medical treatment leading to the risk of 
ingrown toenails, Big Hairy Butt (TM), and Fresh 
>From The ClueServer (TM) advice, with this closing:

  (You'll have to figure this part out without the
  pictures to help this time - moving your
  lips while you read might help...)

  I write this under the influence of the
  Drugs given to me by the physicians in whose
  care you have placed me.

  Some Fucking Improvement (TM), eh?

  On our next date (in court), you might want to
  choose a wash & wear Robe, since I could be
  drooling & slobbering a lot.

  Loves and Kisses
  [???] Psychotic Killer To Be Named Later.

[End Letter 2]