Tuesday, March 30, 2004

We The People alerts us to more IRS evasion, viewable in this video clip. Notice that Nina Olson claims to read ALL of the 6 INCHES of correspondence a DAY she gets on this issue and yet still has NO ANSWER! Now, how can that be?

Latest video clips from We the People

IRS National Taxpayer Advocate Nina Olson on C-SPAN

dial-up connections:

dsl/cable connections:

More at:


VHS and CD-ROMS coming soon.

Friday, March 19, 2004

The IRS evades answering our questions. What's the deal?

(Note: the first link is to a high-bandwidth video stream; it is marginally viewable on some DSL connections. The low bandwidth link didn't work at all, or I'd have posted that.)

Sunday, March 07, 2004

The revolution is about to begin.

Dear Subscriber,

As promised (and only six days late), it's time to give you folks a glimpse
of what the Flash presentation (formerly the "secret weapon") is going to
be. As I mentioned before, all you get now is the intro (which makes a nice
teaser), but it shouldn't be TOO long until the whole thing is finished.

Now for the bad news (again):

1) As I mentioned before, those without broadband will be doing a fair
amount of thumb-twiddling while the thing loads. The intro alone takes
about one minute with broadband... which I think comes to about 73 days for
dial-up. (Okay, so it's not quite that bad.)

2) The vast majority of web browsers should happily view the thing
automatically. If for some reason you have trouble, I'm NOT the one to ask
about it. There are always glitches at first with stuff like this, but when
it's released, we'll find a way so that everyone on the planet can easily
view it. (If you can't view it now, the server it's on may just be
temporarily overwhelmed.)

The whole presentation will be around 50 minutes (not the originally planned
30), but it will be interesting, substantive, and not overly-technical (i.e.
it won't put people to sleep with legalese explanations).

Again, if you want to pre-order mini-CDs, below is the address for doing it.
(We're still not sure when it will be completed, and when the mini-CDs can
start being shipped.) For pre-orders, please make checks, money orders,
etc., payable to "www.861.info" (NOT TO ME) and send them here:

P.O. Box 25185
Kansas City, MO 64119

If you want to make contributions, but don't need a zillion discs yourself,
you can certainly send donations there too, but please make sure the guy
there can tell whether you're donating or pre-ordering. The following are
the prices for the disks:

100 mini-CDs: $ 45
1,000 mini-CDs: $320

(Okay, there was an inbetween deal, and I forget what it was at the moment.
I'll tell you again shortly.)

There will be more options later, for buying less than 100, or more than
1,000. (Anyone who just wants one, we'll be sending them out free when it's

Oh yeah.... I guess giving you the link to the presentation might be a good
idea. Here is where it is for now:


I hope you like it.


Larken Rose

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Tuesday, March 02, 2004

Here's a very unusual angle on a court case from Arizona from almost 15 years ago. I've never heard a similar story.

From: "Virgil Cooper"
Sent: Monday, March 01, 2004 2:14 AM
Subject: Fw: When the People were the Police ... "Are Cops

Hi, everyone, Just a little note adding a personal experience related to
the article below.


In 1998 [sic] or 1990, my father had his VW microbus van "broken into" by a 16
year old kid. This happened during the middle of the day in a shopping
mall is west Phoenix. The boy had ridden his bicycle to near the van,
walked over to my father's parked van, opened the right front door and
got in. Security guards observing from a guard tower on the roof of the
mall, saw the kid get into the unoccupied van. My father had just come
through the mall entrance when a half dozen security guards ran past
him, out the doors and out into the mall parking area. Curious, he
turned around and went outside to see what the excitement was all about.
To his surprise, the guards had converged on his VW van. So, he went to
see what the problem was.

It turned out that the boy was still sitting on the right front
(passenger) seat of his van. The guards were questioning him. In short
order, police arrived. They were accusing the kid of attempting to
steal the CB radio mounted under the dash of the van. The police
assured my father that the "crime"
would be handled as a mere misdemeanor and he could attend proceedings
in a Justice of the Peace (JP) Court in Avondale west of Phoenix and was
given the date and time.

Three different times he showed up at the Avondale JP Court only to find
the hearing had been given a continuance. Finally, he was told that the
case had been moved to Maricopa County Superior Court in downtown
Phoenix -- in Criminal Court. My father found out that the kid now was
going to be prosecuted for a criminal offense: "Unlawful use of a means
of transportation."
This is a modernized version of what used to be called "joy riding." My
father was upset. He had been assured that only a misdemeanor offense
was involved.

He went to the boy's home and visited with the young man's mother. They
lived in a modest house about half a mile from where my father lived.
The boy's mother had no money to hire a lawyer for her son. The best
she could hope for was a public defender for her boy. The next day my
father called me and related what had happened and asked if I would be
willing to attend the trial in Superior Court. My father and I showed
up the morning of the trial date. We sat in the back row of the

After a couple of other arraignments and court dockets were called, the
case of State of Arizona vs.
Clint Hoag was called. The prosecutor read the accusation and gave a
summary of the "criminal act"
the kid had committed. The public defender mumbled some words. The
judge, Judge Sticht, asked how did the young man plead. The public
defender now more audibly said,"Not guilty, your honor."

My father stood and from the back of the courtroom asked if he could
come forward and make a statement.
The Judge asked who he was and my father explained that he was the owner
of the VW van involved. Judge Sticht said it would be okay for him to
approach the bench and make a statement. My father went to the front of
the courtroom. He repeated that he was the owner of the vehicle
involved and was present at the time the police arrived and had talked
to the security guards, the boy accused, and the police. He went on to
say, that it was true that the boy had opened the unlocked right front
door and had gotten in and sat on the seat, but that nothing was
missing, nothing was taken or stolen or damaged. Therefore, as the
owner of the vehicle and also because he was the damaged party, he
added, "I give the young man, Mr.
Hoag, retroactive permission to be in my van. No crime was committed.
Let this kid go free."

There was stunned silence in the courtroom. A long pause. The
prosecutor and public defender looked at each other with a shocked
expression as if to say someone had just derailed their "slam-dunk"
case. The pause just hung in the air. No one said a word.

Then Judge Sticht leaned forward to the microphone on his dais and
bellowed into the mike: "The State is the injured party."

This was said with such force that the floor shook and the PA system
continued to ring with a squeal that lingered as it tapered off. Again
a long pause and silence in the courtroom. My father just stood there
in front of the judge, stunned at what he had just heard. Just as
suddenly as Judge Sticht had broken the silence a couple of minutes
before, he loudly announced a thirty minute recess punctuated with a
loud tap of his gavel. The prosecutor scurried over to the public
defender to confer. The kid, the defendant Clint Hoag, went to the back
of the courtroom where my father and I were standing and thanked us for
coming to give him some moral support. No other friend or family member
was there, not even the kid's mother. She had to work at her minimum
wage job and couldn't get time off.

The boy kept thanking us for coming to be there. He said he just knew
he was going to go to jail or prison. He also said the public defender
didn't seem to want to do much for him, that most of the time he just
agreed with the prosecutor. telling him, "Boy, you just don't have much
of a case, I'm sorry to say."

I told the kid that there was something he could do. I suggested that
during the recess I would help him file an appeal.
He asked incredulously, "Can we do that?" I assured that we could and I
would show him how. I told him a Notice of Appeal only had to be a
single sheet of paper. We stood out in the corridor while I dictated
the legalese he needed. He printed in crude block letters, obviously
and definitely not well educated.
I told him that I thought it best that the Notice of Appeal be in his
own handwriting. We went to the cafeteria and made the appropriate
number of copies. He had said that he had no money. My father and I
told him not to worry, we would pay any expenses. The copies only cost
ten cents each and there was no filing fee for a Notice of Appeal. We
stood in line at the Court Clerk's window. The clerk took the papers,
asked a few questions and stamped the papers making them official court
documents. The Notice of Appeal was filed. We returned to the
courtroom mission accomplished.

As I had instructed the boy, he took the court stamped "conformed"
copies to the front of the courtroom and gave his public defender, the
prosecutor and the Bailiff their copies of his handwritten,and already
filed, Notice of Appeal. That sure stirred things up. We could tell by
their facial expressions as they scrutinized the piece of paper they
were handed
-- by the kid, no less.

The prosecutor and public defender glared toward my father and I, now
joined by the kid. Finally, the prosecutor came back to the rear of the
courtroom where the three of us stood. He directed his question to me
and asked, "Who are you?"
I told him the elderly man was my father and I explained that he was
hard of hearing. He asked again, "What do you do for a living?" I told
him Iwas involved with mainframe and mid-range computer software sales.
He said emphatically, "Mr.
Cooper, why don't you go do your work and I'll do mine." This said in a
huff, he headed back to the front of the courtroom and joined the public
defender. They huddled. We could hear mumbling and see their
gesturing. Then they huddled with the judge. More mumbling and
gesturing. The judge finally took the mike, "I see someone has helped
Mr. Hoag file a Notice of Appeal in this case," he said. The judge
looked directly at me and said, "Mr. Cooper, I understand that you and
your father helped Mr. Hoag file this Notice of Appeal. Is that true?"
I stood and answered from the back row, "Yes. That is true. The Notice
of Appeal has been duly filed and lodged with the Court." I sat down.

There was more side bar conferencing with the judge, prosecutor and
public defender. Then judge Sticht announced that he would take the
matter under advisement and decide later what to do. He then told Mr.
Hoag, now Appellant Hoag, that he was released on his own recognizance
and was free to go pending whether the appeal was warranted and would be
allowed to go forward. Such judicial arrogance. Nothing more was heard
about the case for several months.

Then an item appeared in the (now discontinued) afternoon newspaper The
Phoenix Gaxette. The outcome of the appeal was given a brief coverage.
The Arizona Court of Appeals had rendered its decision in the State of
Arizona v. Clint Hoag case. It ruled in favor of Appellant Hoag. It
ruled that the charge of "unlawful use of a means of transportation" was
bogus because Mr. Hoag "never had control of Mr. Cooper's van" and
"never had the ignition key or even sat in the driver's seat." It said
further that Mr.
Hoag's presence in the van was only in the passenger seat away from the
automobile's operational controls. The Appeal was found to have merit.
It turned out that the public defender finally did his job and did a
fine job handling the Appeal. Needless to say, my father's statement to
the trial court that he gave Mr. Hoag "retroactive permission" to be in
his van was not mentioned in the newspaper article or in the official
case write-up. Also, not mentioned is Judge Sticht's bellowed claim
that "the State is the injured party."

My father George L. Cooper achieved something few people in real life
accomplish. He has been published. (I joke.) Perhaps one could say, my
father achieved his "fifteen minutes of fame." I think it was more like
fifteen seconds. That's how short the mention given him is in the case.
My father passed away in October of 1995, If you would like to see the
actual case, look it up in the Arizona Reports as State of Arizona v.

My father was proud to have helped keep a sixteen year old poor kid from
being falsely accused and "slam-dunked" by the State and branded for
life with a felony conviction. Tying in with the article below, this is
just one small example of the State claiming to be the "injured party."
(Cue the theme music from The Twilight Zone.) Of course, reality is that
the State has the courts, the judges, the lawyers and the legal
profession, professional law enforcement, and the jails, prisons, and
guns. Most of the time it is like an ant challenging Goliath.

Best regards from Virgil.

Monday, March 01, 2004

"Karen the Neocon Slayer" Kwiatkowski was just interviewed by Saul Landau. You need to watch this interview.

Click here and choose your bandwidth option.