Grasshopper's Appeal part 14
Fishing for Sanity & Being Vegan
11-24-2022
Greetings my dear friends, Welcome to my subscribers and thankyou so kindly for your eyeballs and, when applicable, your earballs too, woo hoo.~!~
i was reading the sign today, i made it a year ago, reading
Stop the Evill Vaxxine. End the Fear Campaign.
i’ll have to get a photo op of it , but for now, let’s take a trip down memory lane, to before the Harmacide scamdemic, to a land far away, long ago, another San Francisco, before Gavin became the governator of Killafornia and killed the state, which is basically catatonic now, thanks Gavin, …
in the land of my imagination, since it can’t possibly be true, or is it?
Did yours truly really run, or , mmm, hop, for mayor against the young globalist dicksucker ahem , cough, sputter, nothing against that sexual act and those who perform it now, please don’t be offended if you do, what better way to top off your thanksgiving dinner? can’t think of one, can you?
but i digress, crimestop hard , fast. Ah , there is the thread, pulled by a feline playing…
When yours truly and unruly , ran against Gavin for Mayor of SF , killafornia, in 2007, and landed in a jail of scKamala’s fancy, 850 Bryant, i had no idea he was a young globalist involved in the cabal to overthrow the US constitution, did you?
and now, after a long interlude from our radio, daddy-O, it is Time once again to return to the failed, failing, and fallible fumbling for freedom, otherwise known as Grasshopper’s Appeal., a work that can only be published here, after rejection and reconsideration, as a perseverance of , in parallel , spiral, synonymous with: question authority , question reality …. grow and make your own…
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Fishing for Sanity & Being Vegan
What does it mean to be vegan? Note the “g” (in the word Vegan) is pronounced hard, like as in Grasshopper. Now , after a decade of being vegan, I can say it simply means “Do No Harm.” It means no animals in your diet, nor animal — produced foods, only plants. Fruits and vegetables mostly, and beans. Perhaps honey is the exception, as I consider it to be vegan, anyway. I don’t seek out honey, but I’m happy to eat it. We really need to support our desperate and disparate bees at this time. Please plant something the bees and hummingbirds can enjoy, if you are able to . Flowers and fruit trees, for the bees , please.
What does it mean to be vegan? It means feeling really good about food, and not partaking in the karma cycle of murder, thank you.
Being vegan , essentially , means , as I once heard it stated, you don’t eat nothing with a face, nor its fluids. It means good health and positive mental well-being. And a free spirit. Blessings for all.
The last food I ate, before i became fully vegan well over 10 years ago now (written in 2010), was fish. Then I read a book, near the end of the last millenium, which had been written in 1970 about fishing boats. It was saying how all the fish have been horribly depleted and overfished, so then i decided to leave the rest that remain for my brothers and sisters who need it more than me , since I am a fish.
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Surely the situation has only deteriorated since that time for our fish and bird friends, our struggling ocean. Twice this week , I’ve seen two different seagulls who had fishing hooks in their beaks, the one today a green metal lure hanging like a cruel earring from its beak. The other one I saw had line around it and could not open its mouth to eat. It was heartbreaking, a death sentence. There is really only one interconnected body of earth-water, called Gaia, home, crying for sanity at this time.
What does it mean to be vegan? It means eating foods — plants — that still are alive. Everything is alive. The water is alive with love. People would get in my Grasshopper Taxicab and say, “You’re vegan, aren’t you?” Or else inquire if I was. It means being clean, inside, to the fullest extent allowable by law. Thanks. Being vegan isn’t enough, really. You still have got to avoid deep-fried foods, exploded tofu, stuff like that. (Vegetable Tempura might be nice.) But being vegan is a good start. Be picky , eat wisely. I advocate eating fruits in the morning, lots of them, separate from other foods. High water content foods are best. Water itself is crucial. Drink plenty of hot water, first-off. Boil it yourself.
Being vegan meant torture and terror from the City and County of San Francisco, that week after the Ed Jew arrest, thanks for that. It meant constant and continuing harassment over my food during my time in both SF and San Mateo jails. Oh well.
an interesting note
At this time, we’d like to take a bit of an interlude to bring you this interestin’ tid bit, an itty bitty item overheard from the back of the cop car, actually the guy was speaking to me, but , heard over the traffic and all.
When I was renditioned to SFGH Psych ER and 5150’d, one of the rides i took over there in the black and white taxi with the swirling top light sirens, the cop, or was it a sheriff deputy? whom drove me over there was telling me an interesting little story. Incredibly, he said to me that there was an actual video ( I guess it hasn’t made youtuber yet) of Gavin Newsom assaulting Alex Tourke in room 201, city hall, the driver said, but of
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course it was squashed and squelched. Alex was Gavin Newsom’s campaign manager, and Gavin had some special work on that campaign for Alex’s wife, over some cocaine and soft drinks inside City Hall; they had an extracollegiate sporting event; pin-pong, presumably. How interesting it would have been to watch that video of Gavin, whom I hadn’t known to pursue boxing.
Yeah, that one was censored by the powers that be before it got to youtuber, sadly. Where’s wikileaks when you need them? Looks like maybe Janet Vandebos has been hanging around with Julian there and filing some false-ass rape charges on him, … but I digress.
What is torture? What is solitary confinement? How does it feel to be in a cage?
Panic.
A bad acid trip.
Everything is magnified, basically that’s torture. First and foremost the isolation and emptyfullsomeness ; you don’t think too much about your quotidian distractions until they disappear, and you are left alone in a cage , without a friend; then , your layers of accumulated years are stripped away like your clothes, you are left with the simple childhood panic of being alone in a cruel world, and utterly unable to care or provide for your most basic needs , at the mercy of others to barely exist.
You are left in panic, a constant sort of sandpaper upon your frazzled senses, a bad feeling in your belly.
The uniquely American form of torture — the constant light, the isolation in solitary, being naked and cold— these forms of torture, although quite basic, are most severe. Short the physical scars of battery, nevertheless one loses something of oneself merely in summoning the memory of the box, the cage, the jail cell, the betrayal of one’s essential core animal nature, the loss of the most basic freedom, that of fundamental physical mobility. The sheer joy of motion is robbed from you. Mundanely and routinely, you are tortured and terrorized, instilling a sense of panic that ensues years later. You may get out of jail, but the jail does not get out of you. It stays painted in your brain, like Dick Cheney’s sneer upon his lip.
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Although the body is affected, the target is your mind. It is the challenge, to retain one’s identity as human, a social creature; when once you’ve been cold and utterly alone in a confined space, the challenge thereafter appears, of how to come back? Imagine that, dear reader. It’s the challenge to me still, to this day, well over three years since my release now, to remind my mind and body , that I’m not in jail, although gosh, I gotta say it sure feels like I still am. Jail has been, well , internalized now. They put bars in my mind. I wish they’d take them out , please.
Yes, I would like my freedom of thought restored to me, so I don’t have to be afraid that I might think the the wrong thoughts, that something I had never done nor said would be fabricated out of invisible cloth and then held and used against me, in a court of law, and everything I’d ever worked for gone.
Even without the isolation, the closest image to convey the conditions upstairs at the unlovely 850 Bryant (and 425 - Seventh , around
the corner, on the other side of 850 from the McDonald’s) The closest word, most most striking perception, is that of a crematorium. As you walk the 850 Bryant 6th or 7th floor, which ordinary citizen folks rarely do, you see the bodies stacked up in bunks extending along the hallways endlessly, displaying the cramped quarters behind the bars. The situation makes the fact of bars superfluous. It doesn’t matter which side you’re on when the whole world has become a jail. The bars are installed in your brain. Wish they’d take them out , please.
Cops hate working in jails. Everywhere, living people are dying, you watch it in slow motion, with a million TV’s everywhere. They routinely count people to make sure no one has just died not too long ago. (i’d heard that folks who had died were being “hidden” and not counted as dead, so the others could get their food to eat it…while the supposed dead were just sleepin’ thru a meal or two…)
When you’re held in solitary, you have to maintain your sense of self-worth, without any reinforcement, cause you ain’t gonna be getting no positive vibration nor love. Even an atheist is well advised to pray. Any higher power will do, pray to the water in the toilet, if they let you have one.
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I used my extended and personalized serenity prayer frequently in jail, and especially in the holding cells, if I could remember to . In jail, one is well advised to pray as much & as often as possible. Jail is not the place to be an atheist. Any spirit of cohesion is welcome and necessary. Trying to remember anything at all positive and uplifting is crucial. Even if only to the generic spirit of the universe, it’s really best to pray. Trying not to dwell in the barbaric depression of the surroundings. Starving.
I would pray.
Great Spirit Goddess Mamma grant me the Serenity to accept the things i cannot change, Courage to change the things I can , and the Wisdom to know the difference; living life one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting love as a pathway to peace.
Great Spirit Goddess Mamma I offer myself to you. Build with me and do with me as you will.; release me from bondage and help me towards your will for me. Take away my difficulties and help me bear witness. Guide my will and my life. Guide me on this journey. Show me how to live. Fill me with your love. Great Spirit I pray for peace and love for all people, all creatures, all spirits everywhere. Thankyou for the gift of this day. Thankyou for the joys of this day, thank you for the gift of your love this day. Thankyou for bringing me to this day; thank you for the gift of your love this day.
(and when about to get in the water …) Thank you for the gift of this bay, thankyou for the joys of this Bay, thankyou for bringing me to this Bay, thankyou for your love this day, thankyou for the gift of your love this day, thank you for the gift of this Bay…
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Eventually they stopped the kidnapping and rendition long enough to arraign me on a bunch of charges for Ed Jew. Long after they had to drop them all, and when i was in jail for the Vandebos, I received a parking ticket for parking in his driveway from the DPT. Department of Petty Torture. Thanks for that.
We tried to fight it, because I was afraid to admit to any wrongdoing. They wanted a deposit of three times the cost of the ticket after they first denied my contest, to continue the appeal. Hell, Zadik couldn’t even get me off of that lousy parking ticket. Good grief. I mean, they had dropped all the criminal charges, from Ed Jew, but his wife was screwing some meter maid, I suppose. Hope she was good.
My friend just capitulated and paid the Department of Petty Torture their parking ticket extortion. Soon they’ll charge you money for jay—walking, or flatulating. In jail, farting can get you beat up. Flatulate in jail, better say excuse me loudly, best to be sitting on the toilet when you do.
I owe him for that ticket, but don’t have much more that hot air with which to repay. That’s why it’s better to be vegan, so your farts stinks a little less. Also, you never know when you may have to eat your own shit, after all.
Of course, the worst thing about the whole sordid Ed Jew affair was the re-charge and re-arrest upon the Vandebos in the middle of that week of torture and terror. And i do mean terror. You know, in jail, you are just trying to avoid making your situation any worse for yourself than it already is. But you are fighting concrete and bureaucracy, the latter being far colder.
The whole purpose of the Institution of Justice is, of course, not to uplift, but to break any free will or kindspirit , to set an example and scare people everywhere , not just the folks who wind up inside… but rather, to put the bars up everywhere, to instill fear and loathing.
When i finally got a court date over this important issue of me parking in Ed Jew’s driveway, Zadik represented me in front of the smelly Judge Wong, and he asked that I be able to speak at the Board of Supervisors during public comment. This despite the restraining order being imposed upon me to the tune of a few football fields between me and Ed Jew,
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but the Supervisors meeting room was way too small for all that. Elsewise, I myself might not have thought to go to speak to those folks, or , try to, but it seemed more important after it became an issue for consideration upon his royal and ridiculous court , that Garrett Wong’ers, about the insufficient size and length of the restraint, it just wasn’t big enough, the room , that is , for such a thing.
When I showed up, me and my lovely wooden fish, to that tiny Board of Supervisors meeting room, with all them superdupervisors supervisoring, the Sheriff made us ( me and the fish ) sit in the back of the room. That was fine and divine. But when it came time for public comment they were not accommodating my needs under that Wong’er—bonger’s restraint . I wanted to speak out about that immigrant ID legislation they were proposing. But they refused to bring me a mic, or ask Ed Jew to walk far enough away so I could not be standing so close to his ass.
I asked sheriff Erdman to bring me a mic, so I could speak, without violating nobody with my voice, but he refused. They couldn’t spare old Grasshopper two minutes of comment time, after all those times we had together in jail and all, then they didn’t want to know me or nothing in their fancy and expensive meeting room. The City and County was looking for the mayor to come speak with the Supervisors, but not no Grasshopper candidate trying to say, gee, we need Total Amnesty , not special identification.
Total Amnesty, not immigrant ID. Please.
Actually, when I saw that I wasn’t gonna get no 40 acres, no mule , and me and the fish weren’t getting no two minutes a’ no tune a’ no how, I tried to leave. But, these nice city hall sheriffs arrested me before I could get out the door. Sort of like getting caught in the San Mateo Expo driveway with my pants already up. Now I was , after gettting caught in Ed Jew’s driveway, about to be getting arrested, for, well, , resisting arrest, they said. But I didn’t resist. When they arrested me, I said to myself, What a wonderful world, how can I help you fellars to better take away my freedom of speech and civil liberties, whoops, I already lost all that messy stuff anyway on the floor of the Taraval Station back
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They had told me if I didn’t stay seated in the back of the room that they would arrest me. There was, of course, no exit back there, and I had to come in to the center near THE Ed Jew to get out the door of that room. I was sort of feeling trapped, my fish was sensing the net. Oh well, we got arrested together. More recently, I brought the fish to a couple of little gatherings to grieve the BP gulf of oil disaster, the Volcano leak long before the wikileak.
They tried to charge me with resisting arrest, me and the fish. Zadik said, when he saw the video, that clearly I had not been resisting , but perhaps the fish was. So of course, they ended up dropping all those whatever charges they had invented and cooked up after falsely arresting me and my wooden fish and denying us our freedom to speak. My fish chose to remain silent, a right i was not informed that I shared. But then, whether or not I actually spoke, they always were able to find something to use against me to continually arrest me, over and over, like, Uncle Milton hitting my head against the wall, over and over , merely for playing or being in the driveway. For at least half an hour, he kept hitting my head backwards into the wall. Surely it must have been a crime when I was 6 years old, a young terrorist, and it must still be one now. When you figure out exactly what that crime is, I’ll have to pay the goddamm parking ticket for the petty torture that was delivered to me instead of my freedom of speech, because I was deemed to be such a great threat to public safety, me and the nameless wooden fish.
It was a fishless Grasshopper who finally commented at the Board of Supervisors, weeks later, after actually getting arrested trying. I started my actual public comment by thanking the Supervisors for not arresting me, yet. Did I thank the SF girls softball team as well?
You know, i always thought it was ironic, how they basically were begging and attempting to coerce our so-called Mayor into attending those Board meetings , but he always refused. He thought it was beneath him.
Yet meanwhile, here I was getting arrested trying to just be obscurely involved , for lending my unwanted voice, or my unwanted fish. Of course, I was merely a mayoral candidate, and my fish merely a wooden fish. I was not the purported mayor, dodging question time, merely a wanna-be hoping to cross the borderline, a “pollo,” as it were.
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They held me alone in the back of the van by the Grove street side of City Hall, a sort of jail on wheels, for many, many hours, while the sun set and I got cold and cramped. A holding cell , hidden in broad daylight. How convenient. Any old cop van can be your personal hell, thanks.
I had managed to make myself a tiny bit less uncomfortable by walking through the handcuffs, sort of, so I could sit with my hands in front of me instead of behind my back, as I recall, during those several solitary hours just sitting there all alone unable to really move much, sort of force to hunch over seated.
As I recall, this fact that I had slightly improved the quality of my condition of confinement irritated those sheriffs to no end , those fellars whom had abandoned me. Why were they so upset? Hours later when they finally returned, they tried to make me walk back through, which I could not do. This made them even madder. I’m surprised they didn’t beat me up right there on the side of city hall, which I think is what they wanted to do, to be honest. It was totally intimidating to be trapped in the cage like that.
They eventually brought me to the intake jail there off 7th street , and held me in solitary, again. They took away my sweatshirt and most of my clothes, leaving me in sandals and the thin pajama pants I had been wearing for the hot afternoon and a thin shirt. They they put me in a cold cell, in solitary, for I guess about 8 hours. Man, I am a bay swimmer , but that was one of the coldest things I’ve ever experienced in my life. I guess the cold storage after that Board arrest was a special gift from Ms. Calhoun.
There was one female guard there, Calhoun, who had told me when she first released me several weeks back, that she would be seeing me again, that my “mother should have aborted” me, so as to save the world from the likes of me, and basically let me know what a no-good worthless creep she knew me to be, how kind of her. The cops feel the need, once you’re in jail, to make you feel like you are in jail, so you don’t get too happy.
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I had thanked her for the torture, so she made it worse and harsher. Just like Carol Yaggy. I thanked Yaggy for the torture and she gave me more jail time as a You’re Welcome, come again, how nice of her for that.
My friend had bailed me out early that evening, as soon as he could, once they finally brought me over to jail, which really took quite a while for them to do. But they held me for many several more hours thereafter than there really was any reason to do that night, and it was around 2 am when I was throwing that poor wooden fish at those Bush street signs. I think that meeting had starting in the hour of 2 pm , half a day earlier. Now I was knocking wood chips off my fishes tail.
I don’t even remember what all they charged me with on that lousy arrest besides resisting arrest; I likely had to go through a bunch of court dates and waste lots of time and ruin countless days over that crap, or some other
But they eventually dropped all those charges from the Board of Supervisors , whatever they were. So much for my public comment.
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Thus concludes this installment of Grasshopper’s Appeal, to be continued next time i am willing to make myself feel bad remembering how my life was wrecked in San Francisco Killafornia, where they first killed me, and now they’re killing you, such kind folks, killing it.
To be continued…
I am not sure I would have survived the cold room. You are strong, glad your swims in the Bay trained you to withstand it, or gave your mind some comparison to work with at least. Also, the images from the arrest are quite compelling, and bring me much closer to understanding what you have gone through, when paired with the words. You are an eloquent story teller and a badass, Grass. Best
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