Learned helplessness is the technique or method of torture, and the desired result, quickly and easily accomplished, is learned helplessness.
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At this time I would like to state that, contrary to what he told the police dispatcher on the phone in front of me the first time I parked in Ed Jew’s driveway I have never attacked Ed Jew. I had no physical contact with him whatsoever, nor did I intend any. The only point of convergence between my self and that man were the wheels of my Grasshopper van contacting his driveway. Of course, they could have just asked me to leave, instead of towing me away and arresting me. The cops were upset because Ed Jew was screaming at them. He still thought he was somebody important at that time, whereas I doubt that I could ever be.
Ah, but it is indeed a slippery banana peel down a steeply sloping path once undertaking to casteth stones, ain’t it? Live and learn, I guess.
Also , at this time, I guess I should note that I parked in Ed Jew’s driveway twice. After the first Saturday night, I did just drive away , while Ed and his wife were taking pictures of me. They were starting to pretend that they lived there, but it was too late in the game for that. I had checked out that residence some, and , well, ain’t no one done been residin’ in it. Now , I wasn’t doing no stalking, I just left a banana peel on the doorknob, which stayed there a while. A few months, I think.
In fact, one day long thereafter I found a familiar looking banana-’er peel upon my windshield.
Okay, at this time I can confess that I also investigated his garbage can. Man, Ed Jew’s trash bin was just serene and pristine, you coulda’ ate your dinner outta’ it. But it was empty every time. Now , it seems to me, if yer gas tank is empty, you ain’t driving that car. And if yer trash bin is empty, you weren’t using that house. But that would be evidence, of which there was none in my trial. I felt like I should get scientific on this rubbish.
So, I just thought, to , you know, to see if the garbage men ( I mean the trash collectors, not our “elected” so-called “representatives”) ever even checked to empty that bin, and Yes, I did leave some of my personal feces in a plastic bag in Ed Jew’s trash bin there at 2450 on 28th avenue, that I can report confidently was still there, no less than 6 weeks later. That same bag o’ love was still there. That indicated to me that they weren’t generating enough trash to even have to have the garbage men empty the trash bin for months at a time, which I found quite impressive, and unbelievable.
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When the heat came down on that poor man, he trotted in the SF women’s softball team, in uniform, to give the metaphor and comment at the SF Board of Supervisors meeting, a real horse and pony show he made it, trying to make himself out to be so good. Oh, and he tried to claim that his whole family didn’t shower there at 2450 on 28th ave., that they used the flower shop shower at 118 Waverly. I guess I would rather have flower showers too. Hmmm.
[ https://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/Former-S-F-supervisor-pleads-guilty-to-federal-3190636.php
sorry i couldn’t find the news photos about it i’d seen at the time, with the girls’ or women’s softball team in uniform softballing the SF Board o Supes for souper Ed Jew the supe.]
{Softballing the board of supervisors, hardballing Gh.}
Yes, so I can see how the friends of Ed Jew weren’t thinking kindly of me after my Grasshopper parking in his driveway, and thereby decided to ruin my life, I guess. Does he still have any friends? After extorting Tapioca, Quickly to the tune of $40,000— for franchise licensing, and shower tiles I suppose, they found a brick of money, a mere $10,000— in Ed Jew’s fridge. At least he used the freezer for something. But it is hard to eat cold money. Especially when it’s marked and monitored by the Feds. Whoops. Me, I know better than to think I have any friends, that way I don’t have to kid myself.
Was it one of Ed Jew’s friends on the girls’ softball team who put a dried out banana peel up on my van when it was parked out front one day?
Now , at this time, dear reader, I feel that I should allow for a momentary interlude, in which to express, my friend, that we are approaching the part of my narrative that is, well, that part that I had not really been getting into until now, but it seems that soon the time shall be prime for telling my sad tale of torture and terror, rendition, false imprisonment, kidnapping, and in general describing , albeit fleetingly, aye, only in brief but — nevertheless distressfully passing into , at this time, the passages that most reveal the gears and mechanism of the system of systemic and systematic intimidation that was brought to bear upon me; to fully break me from being one formerly cohesive unit of humanity into a scattered shell of fragments, an effort that has thusfar failed, but may nevertheless succeed from the sheer force of their continuing efforts to block my appeal, any actual appeal at all, and grant me, finally , some measure of justice , to say nothing of a redress of grievances (imagine that!) at this time.
So I just felt that it was a good moment to say, now , that if you’re not old enough, or too old, or too normal, well, you may want to find a nice comic book to read instead of flying through the cuckoo’s nest , at this time. This is not the sort of tale you’ll want to lull yourself to sleep with , my friend. But it may be good to read for awakening, I hope.
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Why did I park in Ed Jew’s driveway? — Because
I was homeless.
I parked in Ed Jew’s driveway as a protest. I wanted to bring attention to this man who was seated on the SF Board of Supervisors, which requires one to be registered to vote (in SF) and thereby reside here.
But he actually was living in Burlingame at the time.
Meanwhile, I was struggling to just eat, being homeless here, again, living out of my van, with my prospects dimming, diminishing, and fading. Gee, I thought, just maybe I can speak with him and ask him about stretching out, a little yoga in the alcove, without even having to go into that house he wasn’t using anyway. But he wasn’t of the speaking mind nor kind.
I parked in Ed Jew’s driveway the second Saturday night in a row, at the beginning of September 2007. I likely smoked a joint in my van parked in his driveway before I fell asleep Saturday night. Maybe I briefly awoke to say hello to his neighbors coming home & commenting on my van. Whenever I saw his neighbors, I always asked if they ever saw Ed Jew, and they would say, “No,” or “Not until recently.” They always seemed to all agree that he wasn’t actually residing there in that residence, the other folks there on 28th avenue, that is. Perhaps I asked them to vote for me before I went back to sleep.
My week of Torture, Rendition, & Terror around 9-11-2007
It was about 2:30 on Sunday morning when the Police woke me up, cuffed me, and put me in the back of their car. They did not allow me to put my shoes on despite requesting to do so, for being cold. Perhaps there is an official SFPD policy against shoes; in San Mateo, shoelaces. Sadly , those sneakers I was denied use of that night I am still employing, with the help of some tape. Those shoes have been through a lot. Jail and all. One day maybe I’ll be able to get some new sneakers, or I guess I can go barefoot.
They put me handcuffed in the back of their car, without sneakers. The tow truck arrived faster than I’ve ever seen one respond; they likely were waiting around the corner, and they instantly towed my Grasshopper away. They took me into the nearby Taraval Station. I had tried to explain to the cops on the scene , who were sort of pissed because Ed Jew was yelling at them — I tried to tell these cops that this was not a criminal act , man, merely political theatre~ they were having none of it.
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They kept me in Taraval Station for hours , where Lt . Daniel J. Mahoney tells me I am NOT under arrest, that they are gonna let me go soon, after I finished confessing my sins on tape.
I confessed on tape , while supposedly NOT under arrest (and without hearing any Miranda advisory , of course, ) to indeed parking in Ed Jew’s driveway, and about how I’d checked him out enough to know that he wasn’t staying there most of the time at his 2450 — 28th avenue chateau.
Lt. Daniel J. Mahoney interrupted me because he had to turn the tape over, reminding me again that I wasn’t under —arrested, and soon he can let me go. Cops lie. First they lie, they they lie again, more. Because they can. Cops will repeat a lie to make it more believable.
Its 5 or 6 in the morning, Lt. Daniel J. Mahoney turns his micro tape over, telling me to go on and keep talking, then they’re gonna let me go. I believed him. Well , let me tell you , cops lie. Police lie, and they get away with it, and then forget their own lies, OR, act like their lies are the truth. Its a game , a sort of play with reality to bend and twist it to the whim of those with the pretty guns, who feel that they can create their own truth.
But these cops, they lie. And they lie first , and foremost. Don’t talk to cops, because they are lying, and they are gonna lie to you. Don’t , Do NOT , Never believe the police when they say you are not under arrest. You are speaking to cops, you are under arrest. Because they have the pretty gun, remember.
Make no mistake about it, you are under arrest. You’re under arrest, just like that Miles Davis album. You are.
You are under arrest when they’ve got you chained to the metal bench of the Taraval Station, handcuffed to the cold steel rail.
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You are under arrest when they’ve got you handcuffed to the metal bench of the Taraval Station , chained to the cold steel rail.
You ARE under arrest when they tape your confession at 6 in the morning, saying you’ll soon be free to go, once they get your confession, which they will try to use to charge you with some sort of crime.
You are definitely under arrest when they won’t let you use the bathroom , which is not 5 feet from the bench you are handcuffed to , and it’s freezing cold in your socks, and you asked 20 minutes ago, and they still ain’t letting you use the can.
You probably are under arrest after you’ve spilled your guts on tape and they got you in a holding cell where someone has already left some water on the floor, and it was like a half hour ago that you asked to please use the bathroom, and you been shivering cold meanwhile and they ain’t let you. And you are unable to walk over there, of course, because you are handcuffed to the cold metal. What did it matter after all ? that you told them what they wanted to know, and now you can’t use the bathroom. How kind.
You are pretty much assuredly under arrest after you are forced to take a shit on the floor of the Taraval Station, because they’ have ‘not unchained you from the bench you are handcuffed to, the cold.
You are under arrest when you have to drop your shivering feces into the pool of water where it is evident they kept someone else from using the bathroom, and you can’t stop to fathom at that time the routine and mundane nature of the daily torture regime. Routine torture, just doing our job protecting your civil liberties, Ma’am. Sir. Just hold it in. Hold in them civil liberties, kiddo. Oh , we’re too short staffed now what with the furloughs from Schwarzennyager’sville and no CA state budget to be bothering with all that a’processing a’ yaw appeal, kiddo, or to let you use the bathroom while we ‘ busy figuring how we gonna keep you locked up for a while now that we got done NOT arresting you.
You are definitely under arrest, no matter what lying ass Lt. Daniel J. Mahoney says, when you are apologizing to the cops, those very same ones who had told you they’d let you use the bathroom soon, there , son. A half hour later you are saying sorry to the kind Sirs, for it wasn’t soon enough. But they were nice enough to unchain me from that bench so that I could clean up my own crap, and all that water, mine and whomevers.
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Still, you’re definitely under arrest when you are scooping up your own shit and that water left there too, and thanking them for the opportunity to campaign in their venerable abode, apologizing and saying you were shivering and freezing cold and they hadn’t let you shit, and they hadn’t let me have my shoes, so you didn’t freeze off your civil liberties and freedom of speech, and freedom of natural expression , on that tape recorder. Thanks for all that.
Let me be clear now.
I was refused use of a goddamm toilet, which was right there just a few feet away from me, but I couldn’t reach it, chained to that metal bench with the handcuff. I was forced to plop my poo on the floor off that bench, what else could I do?
Then, they harassed me for being forced to shit on the floor, while they had me chained to the bench. Was that under orders from Ed Jew?
Just imagine that!
Oh well, there’s not much you can do, after a while, when you gotta do what you gotta doo. And , what else could I do?
I guess I should just be grateful that they didn’t force me to eat my own shit , but only to clean it up with my own hands. That’s why it helps to be vegan, I suppose, just in case…
~ ~
They took me from the Taraval Station to the downtown jail and court complex, not the 850 Bryant side, but the 425 Seventh street entrance, I believe, is where I then next ended up that Sunday morning. They sort of take up that whole city block, and several surrounding, with their court/jail complex and torture and terror center.
I believe it was the 425 on 7th , I think it was “C” — Pod, where the most and worst of this week of torture occurred. Systematic, routine, mundane, quotidian torture. Made, or perfected, in America. Mere sleep deprivation, constant light, and solitary isolation, are the worst and most severe torture; for longest lasting effect, add in cold and naked treatment.
So what happened next, it was early Sunday morning, and I was confused and disoriented after my fun experience at the Taraval Station, and they tried to serve me a plate of food. But man, this was definitely not a vegan
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tray. I tried to shove it back into the feeding slot at the bottom of the door ( I had become a barnyard animal during the election , as it were ) and screamed , “Get this shit away from me, I‘m vegan. Bring me some vegan food, and get this shit outta my cell.”
Well, let me tell you, they didn’t take kindly to that one iota. How dare I be vegan. let me explain. Being vegan means to “DO NO HARM” , which to me means not eating any meat, milk fish , eggs, nor any animal produced products, nor any animals. Honestly , I do eat honey if it’s already in something but I don’t seek it out. I guess they must consider vegan folks to be dangerous to oneself or others there at the jail.
So they took me into a room where I stayed, alone , for days. Where they wouldn’t let me have any clothes except these moo-moo safety blanket things. They kept light on all the time for the days I was there, in solitary lockdown and isolation. I went through the same sort of routine twice, both initially during this Ed Jew arrest there, and then after, again, later on in that same week, after / when they’d re-arrested me and re-charged me for the imagined Vandebos crime. The crime for which , of course, the charge had been dropped, although my business remained suspended, while I ran for mayor.
They kept me in solitary isolation naked and with constant overhead lights glaring. I tried to put on this paper bag over my head, in a forlorn and futile attempt to block enough light to be able to sleep , to no avail. They persisted in bringing me cow milk and other non-vegan food that I can not eat. I was freezing cold for days. I couldn’t sleep, relax, or get comfortable enough to avoid a sort of steady state of panic. Sort of like having a loud siren going nearby all the time, and not being able to plug your ears. Panic.
I was cold. I tried wrapping myself in toilet paper, but it didn’t make me any warmer. I tried to wrap my eyes in toilet paper to block out the light, it didn’t work. I prayed for serenity and tried to stay calm. Emptiness does not convey at all what is really a panic, an edgy nervous enclosing. You sort of lose all identity that was your sense of self, and revert back to a child or animal sense of basic survival , breath, food, clothing, and lack of these, in the cold cage. Prayer is mandatory, no matter what your religion or belief on the outside, if you’re gonna make any time at all in solitary isolation. Pray for serenity, try to stay calm. Words fail to describe the utter mindnumbing humiliation and trepidation. Thank you.
Learned helplessness is the technique or method of torture, and the desired result, quickly and easily accomplished, is learned helplessness.
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) To Be Continued …. (
Thank you for sharing! Your story makes my heart heavy!!
Thank you for putting out this story, with many parts.
What you have been through wrt jail and wrt food in jail
makes me so very sad, because really the food a vegetarian
wants is THE LEAST EXPENSIVE type of food to harvest, hell,
it's free if you just take care of the soil some...so it shows me
how spectactularily broken food systems are in combo with
how spectactularily broken the 'law' is. And how actually
spectacular you are as an individual to relate it all to us.