- 101 Fatality
- Hamburg/Sinnott Union
- Macheted Officer Released
- Solstice Kingtides
- Saulsbury Witnesses
- Oaky Joe Calendars
- Catch of the Day
- Christian Torture
- Dumb Left
- FB Robbers
- Santa Suggests
- First Hippie
- LAFCo Watchpup
- Holiday Reading
ON DECEMBER 22, 2014, at approximately 1017 hours, a Mercury Mountaineer, driven by a 47 year old male, was traveling south on US-101, north of Benbow. A Freightliner semi-truck, driven by 49 year old Cynthia Valencia, was traveling northbound on US-101 within the northbound number two lane. For reasons still under investigation, the Mercury drifted into northbound lanes of US-101. The semi-truck driver took evasive action and merged into the #3 northbound lane to try to avoid a collision. The Mercury continued to the east and collided with the side of the semi-truck in the #3 northbound lane of US-101. As a result of the collision, both the Mercury and the semi-truck caught fire. Both the driver of the semi-truck and the driver of the Mercury were transported to Jerold Phelps Community Hospital in Garberville. The driver of the Mercury quickly succumbed to his injuries. The driver of the semi-truck sustained minor injuries from the collision. The identity of the deceased is currently being withheld pending notification of next of kin. The driver of the semi-truck is not suspected of driving under the influence of drugs or alcohol. At this time, it is unknown whether the driver of the Mercury was under the influence. At this time it is under investigation if the driver of the Mercury was wearing his seatbelt. California Highway Patrol, Humboldt County Sheriff, Cal-Fire, Garberville Volunteer Fire, City Ambulance of Eureka, and Cal-Trans personnel all responded to the scene. This collision remains under investigation by the California Highway Patrol - Garberville Area. (CHP press release)
UPDATE (CHP press release): On Monday, December 22, 2014 a collision occurred on Highway 101 near Benbow. The driver of the SUV that collided with the semi-truck died from injuries received in that collision. He has been identified as Steven Ray Castillo, age 47 years, of Leggett. The Redway office of the California Highway Patrol is investigating of the collision.
FIFTH DISTRICT SUPERVISOR DAN HAMBURG HAS MARRIED LAUREN SINNOTT OF POINT ARENA.
THE CALIFORNIA HIGHWAY PATROL announced Monday that Officer Tim Gray has been released from the UC Davis Medical Center. Gray, who was involved in an incident on December 18 near Willow Creek where he says he was forced to defend himself with his gun after being injured by a suspect. Gray was reportedly struck in the head, arm and hand.
Richard Fredrick Tis Mil Estrada, a 17-year-old Hoopa resident, was alleged to have struck Gray with a machete when the officer responded to a traffic accident. The officer reportedly had to fire his weapon in order to defend himself from the attack. Estrada apparently died as a result of gunshot wounds sustained during the officer’s response.
Today, the California Highway Patrol thanked “the community for its overwhelming show of sympathy and support as a result of this incident.”
(Courtesy, Kym Kemp, Lost Coast Outpost)
MIKE KALANTARIAN AT THE MOUTH OF THE NAVARRO
6.2" rainfall this week, which brings December's total up to 16.7" thus far. We went to Navarro Beach yesterday afternoon at low tide. The big surprise was the mouth shifting from one side of Pinnacle Rock to the other. The amount of sand deposited where the mouth was earlier this month was astounding. It was impossible to tell, by looking, that the river had shifted from the north side of the Rock to the south side. Seals were cruising the mouth, apparently hunting fish. The other remarkable thing was the amount of driftwood and timber that has reappeared on the beach. Things can change quickly at Navarro Beach! It was raining, foggy, and getting dark, so we didn't get many good photos, but here's a couple...
The previous morning (Saturday) at high tide my wife had gone to the coast to see the big waves rolling in. Here's what that looked like from above…
WHO SAW IT HAPPEN?
Devastated Mother tells her story upon the death of the father of her son:
I am writing you to request contact information on the group of soccer players who witnessed Dan Saulsbury's murder. The DA did not keep Dan's body or give it to his mother, or even let her see him. They cremated his remains after the autopsy and I have not been able to even get that information. I am seeking justice for my fiance in the name of his son, Ronin Edward Saulsbury. Any other information that you have that would be helpful, please send it to me. I still haven't decided on a lawyer, but I am looking. Thank you very much.
Lyra Jubb, Point Arena
OAKY JOE! The legendary Redwood Valley agriculturist produces, hands down, the best calendar you'll see. OJ called the other day to tell us his calendars were ready, but he didn't leave a call back number or a location for pickup. Everyone who sees one, wants one. Each, as aficionados know, feature a local marijuana maiden fetchingly posed against a 12-foot pot plant, a definitive Mendo collector's item and so popular in my circles (where the drug of choice is whisky) that they made me promise to get them one this year. Joe?
CATCH OF THE DAY, Dec 22, 2014
TIMOTHY ABSHIRE, Redwood Valley. Driving on suspended license, evasion.
KEVIN BETTS, Ukiah. Drunk in public. Probation revocation.
GLORIA BURGESS, Ukiah. Possession of controlled substance for sale.
JAMES HOFFMAN, Ukiah. Community Supervision violation.
DAVID SANDIEGO, Ukiah. Possesion of meth for sale.
DANIEL SOUTHWICK, Willits. Drunk in public.
EVAN WILLIAMS, Calistoga/Mendocino. Battery of custodial officer.
COMMENT OF THE DAY
Here’s blood in your eye.
For the media business, 2014 has been another typical year of — what’s the appropriate Orwellian euphemism? — “creative destruction.” Or “disruptive transition.”
Better yet: “Exploring new opportunities.”
It’s not even over — 10 days of potential carnage remain — but 2014 will be remembered (only briefly, because we have a short attention-span) of pandemic layoffs and buyouts, high-profile firings that resemble public beheadings, mortifying fabrications and mealy-mouthed apologies, charges and denials of plagiarism, cynical pandering that crosses the line into insanity, comical mismanagement and brazen duplicity, stupid leaked emails, and we’re probably leaving something out.
THE STAGGERING LEVELS OF SUPPORT FOR TORTURE BY CHRISTIANS merely reveals that very few of them are Christians at all. Torture is not a gray area for Christians. It is the darkest stain there is. And the fact that 65 percent of white Catholics back torture tells you a lot about the terribly weak leadership of the bishops on this core and central issue. They were more interested in how to stop women getting contraceptives than standing up and being counted on torture. — Andrew Sullivan
AVA READER MICHAEL SLAUGHTER saw my Bari Bombing remarks. He writes:
Decades ago, Larry Bensky was in Washington, DC, doing some of his gavel-to-gavel coverage. Privately, an acquaintance inquired why Larry was so busy. “Don’t you have any help?”
Larry said, “No, I don’t. Well, I have Dennis Bernstein…”
‘Nuff said – almost.
Right after Steve Talbot’s report aired, I was at (the old) KPFA. I broached the subject to K. Welch, P. Maldari, and maybe some others.
They didn’t want to hear any of it.
BENSKY was the last intelligent person associated with the place. Except for Doug Henwood, it's painful listening. Where all these little PC fascists came from is a mystery to me, but look no farther for why there's no left in this country. Whatever else you might say about Judi Bari, she wasn't stupid and, by the way used to laugh with me when I'd complain about idiots like Bernstein, still a useful idiot to the ongoing Bari scam.
FROM THE FORT BRAGG POLICE DEPARTMENT: Since December 10, officers of the Fort Bragg Police Department are continuing to follow up on small leads and information related to the armed robbery that occurred at 334 N. Franklin Street (Mendocino Vintage). FBPD investigators have yet to identify either the male or female suspects in this case. With the assistance of some information provided by citizens on social media, investigators have learned that both suspects had stopped at residences outside the city of Fort Bragg, and were asking for directions and/or fuel for their vehicle. If any member of the public recalls having seen or had any contact with either suspect, they are asked to notify the Fort Bragg Police Department to provide information that may assist investigators in identifying one or both of them. Citizens who are interested in viewing photographs related to this incident may visit Fort Bragg Advocate News, and Mendocinosportsplus Facebook pages. The Fort Bragg Police Department wishes to remind the public that anonymous information can be left on the Crime Tip Hotline at (707) 961-3049 if citizens prefer their identity not be known. Any other information regarding this matter should be forwarded to Officer O'Neal at (707) 961-2800 ext. 167. More information will be released when it is available.
ORIGINAL RELEASE: "On December 10, 2014 at approximately 1:53 p.m., officers of the Fort Bragg Police Department were dispatched to 334 N. Franklin Street, Mendocino Vintage, for the report of a robbery that had just occurred. Officers arrived and were informed by the business owner that a male suspect and female suspect had entered the business and robbed the owner at gun point. The suspects then fled the business and were last seen heading northbound on N. Franklin Street. The male suspect was described as mid-twenties, Hispanic or light skinned African American, 5’10, approximately 200 pounds, wearing a blue stocking cap, light blue hooded sweatshirt, and blue jeans. The female suspect was described as being in her mid-twenties, Hispanic, long dark hair, thin build, wearing a black stocking cap, black coat, gray undershirt & dark colored pants. Officers believe the suspects may not be local and may have stayed in a motel or hotel the previous night."
THE FIRST HIPPIE
A Christmas Fable
by Steve Heilig
When the rain let up and the sun went down, it started to get cold out. The soggy skies had kept it somewhat milder and sleeping out in the park was OK. Not great, but OK, as long as one could find shelter from the deluge. True cold was another matter though and I needed to find either a warmer spot or more blankets, or both.
The dog and I walked out into the streets. Our first goal was something to eat. I was no good at begging but the dog's big sad eyes and sweet if cautious demeanor set him apart from many of the tougher, more threatening sort. I could sit out on a busy sidewalk with my hat upturned in front of me and collect a few dollars in an hour or two, so that's what we did. I said "thank you" every time somebody tossed something in, but I didn't look at people expectantly as that seemed to be more of a guilt-tripping thing, and actually produced less coins.
Tonight, being a holiday, there were less pedestrians out but those who passed were often more generous. By the time an hour or so had passed I was starting to shiver and Pup was getting restless. I picked up the hat and there was $5.73 in there, not quite minimum wage, but plenty for now. Getting up, dusting off my pants, we headed for the corner store. Two cans of dog food, one for now and one for morning, $2.15. Two bananas, one for now and one for morning, $1.20. One cup of yogurt, $1.40. One granola bar, $1.00. That about did it. The clerk just nodded at me and turned back to his TV set and I stuffed the grub into my bag and headed out, where the dog was tied and waiting eagerly, more aware of what time it was more than I: Dinnertime.
The next decision was where to seek the night's shelter. The park was still there of course but lately it felt more damp and unwelcoming than usual. I knew a few other spots though, in semi-remote urban cubbyholes under the cover of overhangs, garages, and so forth. My one good blanket wasn't as efficient on concrete or wood but it still beat being damp.
But first, dinner. Down the street I found a bench, plunked down, motioned for Pup to jump up and join me on it, off the cold sidewalk, and went to work on his can with my battered Swiss Army Knife. He watched my every move intently. I liked to just give him the opened can, as it gave him sport to work his way through it himself. While he was gnawing into that, I ate my banana, yogurt, and crunchy bar, musing that most of my meals felt like breakfast and were pretty healthy, if not large. Losing weight is supposed to be good for us though.
One we were both done, I took the licked-clean can and poured some water into it from my bottle and swirled it around, so Pup could lick every last morsel out while having a post-dinner drink. I briefly thought of how good a drink of my own might be, a beer or even glass of wine, but that was out of the question. A coffee in the morning was a luxury enough, once I had the the first cash of the day in hand.
It was probably only about 7PM now and really too soon to turn in but that nightly dilemma was here: What to do with oneself? Being down on the ground, trying to sleep, for like twelve hours a day was just too much. But where to go? I pondered that I'd had perhaps twenty words with other humans today, mostly "thanks." My fellow street denizens were rarely folks I wanted to interact with much. I no longer knew what it was like to not be lonely, so like a fish in water, that had come to feel normal, if not good. My life consisted of walking, begging, reading, sleeping, and feeding myself and Pup. As all but the last seemed a sort of treading water to no real end, I again had the brief flash of realization that if and when Pup was gone, there was really no reason to carry on with the rest. My mind briefly thought of some people from my past, especially the women who had loved me at some point, but I caught that and shook it off, knowing the past is past and they did not miss me now and wouldn't again in any event. So be it. Shaking that off too, I got us up and walked on, vaguely heading to a relatively safe and dry place I'd slept in before, hoping nobody else had already claimed it. A few blocks down, I heard group singing. Walking a bit further, I saw it was coming from a small church.
I've never spent any real time in churches, other than ceremonies like weddings or funerals. And though some offered shelter and meals to folks like me, I felt guilty availing myself or their charity, being of little - OK, no - faith. But this was a special day, I had no other plans, and it looked and sounded warm in there, so I strolled the few step up to the doorway, stepped into the first little room inside, noted there was nobody there and nobody could see me, so I motioned Pup to sit down in the corner, handed him a small biscuit from my coat pocket, and left him there munching, expecting to just check out the inside for a moment or two. Inside, it was a standard, non-fancy but nice enough church room, nicely lit up by both electricity and candles. It was about half full with people, sitting in rows and singing from the books in their hands. They were pretty good at it too and the sound from some song I did not recognize swelled and filled the air inside. I stepped forward to the last row and sat down to listen, and not incidentally to warm up a bit before facing the long night ahead.
One song ended, and another started up without a real break. "Oh come all ye faithful.." they began. Aha, I know this one, or some of it, I thought. It's one of the better carols, or so I felt. Joyful and triumphant, it advised, regarding the newborn boy it celebrated. I just didn't know. The song brought up memories of youth, but not much else. Still, I liked hearing them sing it. It was soothing. And so, of course, I fell asleep, sitting up.
"Sir", came the voice, with a gentle nudge. "Wake up, sir," he said. He was a big guy with a kind enough look. "It's time to go, and you have to take your dog out with you." Well, duh, I thought. As if I would leave him. "Thank you," I simply said, and got up to go.
"Here, please take this," said the man, handing me a small booklet. Not wanting to displease him, I took it, and walked out to where Pup was sitting, looking worried as he had been awoken too. "Good night" the man said, closing the big wooden doors behind us, and I nodded and walked down and onto the sidewalk. It was noticeably colder out and I checked my old watch and saw it was after 9PM, so I must have slept at least an hour in there. Nice of them to let me, I thought, although it would have been nicer to let me stay the night. We headed down towards the college, where some of the sleeping spots could be found, if one was not too obvious about it. Around the back of the library was a small courtyard with many plants and even some pine trees. I'd found that putting a thick layer of pine needles down, under my blanket, with Pup nestled next to me and my bag under my head as a pillow, was pretty good, about as good as it got.
There was one little shaft of light that came down from the building through the branches so I could even read if I wanted to. I had a couple of magazines I'd found, a book, and today's papers, so I was set, as usual. But the first thing I found was the little booklet the church keeper had pressed upon me, so I looked at that.
"The REAL Bible", it was titled. A somewhat pompous title, I thought, especially as it was only about twenty small pages long. I tuned the cover and the Introduction, one one page, simply said "These are the words of Jesus Christ, from the Holy Bible. The rest of the Bible, thought well worth your time, was all added on after his lifetime. For the truth, you really need read no further. So please do so now. God bless you."
Well that's straightforward enough, I thought. I know not from the Bible, and could maybe name only half of the Ten Commandments, for that matter (although I'd probably violated all of them at some point). Did Jesus say "Bless the beasts and children?" I wasn't sure, but I agreed with that much. Maybe that was Saint Francis, the guy my adopted home city was named for? I read on, and such words as these, some familiar, some not, were there:
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."
"What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?"
"It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven"
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy."
"For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted."
"Judge not, that you be not judged."
"Let him who is without sin cast the first stone."
"But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
Hmm. I let the booklet drop to my chest and closed my eyes. Man, I thought. There was no way around it: Jesus was the first hippie. Or at least, the first Western was, as there were probably wandering monks and such before him, Hindu, Buddhist, whatever, around the world. And of course they tortured and killed him, of course in the name of faith and protecting the children. His words certainly didn't seem to guide too many of the self-proclaimed religious folks I'd met, but then, again, he said to judge not. I vowed to spend some time at the library, where I and others like me went anyway to warm up, dry out, clean up, nap in peace, use computers, and most important, use the bathrooms, to learn more about him and his time. Yes, some of us even read there sometimes. I wouldn't be able to do that tomorrow, as in fact it would be his birthday, but the day after, perhaps.
Pup stirred and whined a little. I looked around, up into the light from the building, and saw a strange sight - masses of little lights coming down and landing on the bench, the branches, the ground. Pulling my arm out of the blanket, I held out a bare hand: Snow. How rare and strange. And good, actually, as it might mean that the air would warm up a bit again. It seemed to worry Pup, though. I reached under my head into my bag and found the other banana. He sat up and stared as soon as I popped the little stem off, a sound he knew. The strange big dog, who was a giant baby but kept me safe just by virtue of his size, just loved bananas. I broke off pieces for him, eating one, giving him the other four. Bless the beasts indeed, whomever said it.
It would still be a cold morning, and likely another damp day. Christmas day. I motioned Pup to lie back down, on his side, and he did, and I scruntched back down next to him, spooning as they call it, and pulled the rest of the blanket over us. I looked up into the air one more time before trying to sleep and suddenly the famous ending to James Joyce's story "The Dead" came to me. I hadn't read it since college, but there had to be a reason many thought it one of the most perfect and powerful short stories ever written, although it isn't all that short. I thought that it was set at Christmastime. What I could remember, more or less, went something like this:
* "It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight.... It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill ... It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."*
I shut my eyes, and figured I'd have to look that one up in the library too. After Christmas Day, anyway.
LAFCO THE WATCHPUPPY
For the last couple of years, a small number of involved citizens have attempted to get our Local Agency Formation to take on the task of discovering and disclosing the "people's business" conducted by a very powerful but profoundly ineffective "dependent special district" with responsibility for protecting our natural resources, including Clear Lake.
As this report from the Lake County Record-Bee reflects, the influence of County Supervisors on LAFCo's exercise of its statutory authorities has hamstrung the community's ability to hold the District accountable.
Your readers may also enjoy the video recording of the December 18th public hearing on the Lake County Watershed Protection District "municipal service review" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZOFUJLzR_3g).
In Shasta County, citizens filed a class action lawsuit to force their LAFCo to deliver long-neglected service reviews, for which we all pay -- in addition to paying for LAFCo itself. In Plumas County, independent special districts providing water and sewer and fire protection services, formed their own chapter of the California Special Districts Association, to demand that their LAFCo do the same.
We expect an uphill battle in the coming year, as the subject of the "dependent special district" run by the County Supervisors comes before them, to address that District's performance and funding needs. Our former Flood Control & Water Conservation District was modified by state legislation in 2005, allowing it to "participate" in compliance with the US EPA's National Pollutant Discharge Elimination System, under state permitting requirements.
With a revised state permit issued in 2013, the District's capacities -- some of which may impact your water supplies (those deriving from our Eel River headwaters) -- have yet to be defined in local enabling ordinances, by which the "people's business" is conducted.
Considered the "state's watchdog" for ensuring logical, orderly growth (growth always first, of course), the Local Agency Formation Commission is fully empowered to investigate and report on all district operations within its jurisdiction. Will it do that? Not, evidently, without a lot of public involvement and persistence. Thanks to you and all your readers for keeping those flames fanned.
Betsy Cawn The Essential Public Information Center
9475-A Main Street, Upper Lake, CA
THE TOP TEN
Recommended Holiday Reading for the Agitated Mind
by Ralph Nader
- The Invisible Soldiers by Ann Hagedorn (Simon & Schuster, 2014).
Ann Hagedorn, a former reporter for the Wall Street Journal tells the troubling story of the corporatization of America’s national security—a “bold, new industry of private military and security companies,” embedded deeply in and sometimes outnumbering our armed forces and always pressing for more influence, power, and markets.
- Why Not Jail, Industrial Catastrophes, Corporate Malfeasance, and Government Inaction, by law professor Rena Steinzor (Cambridge University Press, 2014).
Professor Steinzor zeroes in on the highest level of corporate crime, culpable executives, and argues that criminal prosecution of these corporate bosses is not only more just but is the most effective deterrence of corporate crime that has been repeated time and again with impunity.
- The GMO Deception, edited by Sheldon Krimsky and Jeremy Gruber (Skyhorse Publishing, 2014).
This is a project of the Council for Responsible Genetics, started by MIT, Harvard and other scientists. This book, for which I wrote the foreword, takes a comprehensive look at the social, political and ethical implications of genetically modified food from secrecy-ridden companies like Monsanto to farms and markets worldwide. It shows the power of distorted, non-peer-reviewed corporate science and its political marketers.
- The Dictionary of American Political Bullshit by Stephen L. Goldstein (Grid Press, 2014).
This book delivers on its title to make you angry and laugh at the same time. Coming off the November elections, you may resonate with the author’s definition that “political bull derives from the universal ‘language’ of hyperbole, duplicity, and braggadocio.”
- Sustainable Happiness: Live Simply, Live Well, Make a Difference edited by Sarah Van Gelder and the staff of Yes! Magazine (Berrett-Koehler Publishers, 2014).
This is not a touchy-feely psycho screed. It has political, civic, environmental, consumer and personal viewpoints from leading thinkers and doers such as Wendell Berry, Vandana Shiva, Annie Leonard, and John McKnight. A fast and engrossing read.
- A Big Fat Crisis by Deborah A. Cohen, M.D. (Nation Books, 2014).
This work goes beyond exhortation and clarifies the hidden forces behind the obesity epidemic and offers concrete ways to diminish this burgeoning human condition. Dr. Cohen offers concrete things to do that include major policy changes and ground-up initiatives for you or activist groups. Definitely not a diet book.
- Rich People’s Movements by Isaac William Martin (Oxford, 2014).
This is a counter-intuitive up-to-date history of mass protest movements “explicitly designed to benefit the wealthy!” Professor Martin reveals how “protests on behalf of the rich appropriated the tactics used by the left—from the Populists and Progressives of the early 20th century to the feminists and anti-war activists of the 1950s and 1960s.”
- The Evolution of a Corporate Idealist by Christine Bader (Bibliomotion, 2014).
This is the story of a Yale graduate who went to work inside big business and became one of the few idealists striving to elevate standards and conduct. A rare, short narrative that illuminates why some idealists become great, courageous whistleblowers.
- Leningrad: Siege and Symphony by Brian Moynahan (Atlantic Monthly Press, 2014).
Leningrad, the Soviet Union’s second largest city, took 750,000 fatalities from Hitler’s war, siege and starvation—almost double the toll by the U.S. in World War II. This massive work tells the heroic story in 1941 and 1942 of the gripping determination to perform Dmitri Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony in the besieged, devastated city on August 9, 1942. If there ever was a movie looking for a book, this tribute to the irrepressible human spirit is it.
- Ha!—The Science of When We Laugh and Why by Scott Weems (Basic Books, 2014).
Can a cognitive neuroscientist explain laughter and enlighten and entertain? You better believe the answer is yes. A delightful, brainy, historical and contemporary cultural excursus that “reveals why humor is so idiosyncratic, and why how-to books alone will never help us become funnier people.” It explained to me why all those joke books I used to read weren’t really all that funny! More rewarding than a thousand giggles.
Two more enticements. You can get free the quarterly newsletter FDIC Consumer News. Yes, a government agency produces a winner. You can’t help but become a smarter saver and preserver of your finances in this wild west credit economy than by exploring this well-laid out eight-page publication. Call Toll Free, 1-877-ASK-FDIC.
Finally, if you want to see what one person—a young lawyer, Morris Dees—started and persisted with scores of dedicated fighters for justice, obtain the beautifully designed, illustrated history of the Southern Poverty Law Center’s cases and causes, Keeping the Dream Alive by Booth Gunter (Southern Poverty Law Center, 2014, Montgomery, Alabama).
Ralph Nader’s latest book is: Unstoppable: the Emerging Left-Right Alliance to Dismantle the Corporate State.