{i wanted to follow up on the last post with this link, one of so many, but it has a photo of Ed Jew, mentions scKamala, and gives an idea of what happened to him.
https://www.sfgate.com/news/article/Ed-Jew-s-defense-admits-facts-look-bad-but-trial-2540289.php
i figured when easily doable i’ll add these things that give you a picture of what i had to see, and who , at the time, and to validate some of the story…obviously the technology wasn’t there to do any such thing easily in 2010 so i didn’t. They are current additions. The news articles that mention me are mostly wrong so i don’t waste my time validating them, but the book here lays out my truth. Thanks.}
now back to Grasshopper’s Appeal, from 2010.
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[page 13 ]
On Being Homeless, and more Generally Important background information about my case…
(Being homeless, the ladies’ room, Yakub, Calabaza Sabou, Margo Hoover + Nik, Ahuva Jolish, and my conditions I was struggling with during the time of the destruction of my life. Also, beginning the Gh taxi co.)
On July 26th, 2007 , I picked up Janet Vandebos
from SFO. She claimed i threatened to kill her, which I never did. I did not threaten her, I did not kill her, I did not try to kill her, and I did not threaten to kill her. I transported her safely; she testified against me in court, where I tried to defend my self. I was doing a good job so Yaggy threw me off my own counsel. I spent 6 months in jail, over half in solitary. I was running for mayor at the time. Although the Vandebos charges were initally dismissed, or rather — dropped, my business was suspended and remained shut down. After I parked in Ed Jew’s driveway in my Grasshopper for Mayor mobile, formerly the Grasshopper Taxi…then these Vandebos charges were brought back on me. I have been trying to appeal ever since, to no avail.
There was no evidence presented at the trial. It was her word versus mine, and I was made to look bad, so I lost. They also charged me with 2 other things that i was not convicted upon, in that trial. I was not allowed any opening statement, Yaggy kept interrupting me and so I gave up. I tried to enter into the record that I was not allowed to present an opening statement for my self. I don’t think it made it. Only at the end of the trial did Zadik request a new trial for lack of any opening statement in my defense.
The prosecutor Karen P. Hallett, tried to claim in the trial , in front of the jury, that I had actually tried to kill Vandebos by driving into the center divider on the freeway; but they were not charging me with murder, rather, terrorism. I lost everything , my van, my business, my ability to get any work, my hope for any future whatsoever. But I had not, and I have not threatened Janet Vandebos, and no proof was offered that I had, except her say-so. But it was her word against mine, and I was made to look bad, in front of the jury, by Judge Yaggy. My words were held against me, words I never said. This is particularly painful to me as a vegan, an honest hard worker, and a singer-songwriter. I am actually rather careful with my words because they hold such great value to me, as potentially, songs. This whole affair has served to essentially cut my tongue out. I write your honor from out of forlorn despair, now. Please I pray thee have mercy upon my tortured soul, thank you.
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I fear , such is the sad reality of the American nightmare that lies in the shadows of the dream. Freedom of speech only applies to those who can afford it.
Freedom of Speech is the keystone of our humanity and the cornerstone of any democracy, the most basic and intrinsic right, from which all the others stem, without which none of the others are possible. Freedom to speak IS the freedom to be , to exist. But this most basic freedom and right, or privilege, was denied to me; instead, my freedom to speak has been curtailed and systematically compromised by the City and County of San Francisco.
I came stumbling upon these wild and golden shores, this city by the bay, to reside on September 29th, 1993. I came here homeless. It became illegal to sleep out overnight in Golden Gate Park two days after I arrived; I had only slept out there one night. I spent most of that first month here sleeping under the freeway on 5th between Bryant and Harrison, where I could get a shower nearby at the shelter in the morning, although I usually wasn’t lucky enough to win the lottery for an indoor sleeping space. But at least there was some streetlight under the freeway, and cover from the rain. The cars passing overhead on the freeway were a sonic wave, if not the ocean proper.
I started cleaning and working door at the Hotel Utah, later barbacking too. I lived upstairs there, where I wrote many of my first great songs. I have continuously resided in San Francisco for ‘most all of the time since. I worked well over 10 years as a taxicab driver. I also have worked at my own Reliable Don Sparkle Cleaners for a time, doing commercial and residential cleaning. I had enough work to keep myself going, but not housed, at the height of the dot com boom. I’ve always worked hard here, despite sometimes being homeless. In fact, working is apparently no guarantee of deriving any benefit from one’s efforts.
I was living in the Mission starting not too long after 9-11-01. Basically from 2002 until 2007 , the year my life was wrecked, I was living in the ladies’ room, at 3016 on 16th street, above the Casa Thai market. I paid $250- bucks a month to Ahuva Jolish for this two-room bathroom, a ladies’ room. The toilets were broken. I was told not to flush, and had them covered. But it was good enough for me and Calabaza Sabou, who soon adopted me, flying in through the roof. Calabaza is of course Spanish for pumpkin, his color. Sabou is a pet name, French , n’est pas? We don’t know how old he is, getting’ on at least 10 years on his 9 lives. But it’s really a mystery. For the longest time, I myself thought he was female.
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Lately he has scratched his ears so that the cartilage is all torn and they are floppy, yes Flopicita Saboulita, what can we do? He always seems to find a way to get into trouble, it must be his middle name, the venerable Sabou.
So I was paying Ahuva Jolish rent to the tune of what? 3 grand a year, 5 years, 15 grand for her grand ole’ little ladies’ room, she had no problem profiting off my ass, except that, see, she was always hating me, what for? For being different? Plenty of folks lived in that building, and she acquiesced if not actually condoned this practice, except for me. She was always trying to get me to move out. Maybe she had folks lined up who would pay more for her ladies’ room than I could? I don’t know, it always just felt like hate to me.
There was a door at the bottom of the stairs you had to pass to get into my ladies’ room, and in early 2007 or so, Margo Hoover, like the vacuum cleaner, and her boyfriend Nik, like a razor cut, that doesn’t stop bleeding for days, this lovely couple with their pit bull moved into that place. Let me say at this time that I think all animals are beautiful, but some seem to be dangerous? I don’t know. You had to go past that door to get to my place. None of these units are zoned residential, but for one in the other half of the building, but most were filled with folks struggling to survive any way they could, cheap. But when I walked in the front door one day , and that pit bull was hot on the heels of my poor cat Calabaza Sabou, well, I felt fortunate enough to have walked in- in between them. So as to not give that dog another chance on my baby, I took him outta there the next day, to my friend Steve’s place here where he won’t be getting no pit bulls chasing his little orange ass.
What is it with pit bulls anyway? Let’s see, wasn’t it Nick Fabish, that 12 year old kid, who got killed by one around that time, then just recently that little boy who was killed by his family’s 3 pits in Concord? Maybe we should select some other breeds for pets in those cities where children reside? I don’t know.
So Ahuva had been trying for years to get me outta her place; I guess she had gotten pissed off that I’d cut a hole in her door, for the cat. She never really did like my poor cat, can’t say why not? He’d such a loveable beast. But with no eviction protection, they sort of forced me out, though it had gotten kinda cramped in those small quarters after 5 years. But I would have stayed except they made it clear i was no longer welcome. It wasn’t quite a decision to leave, and merely being homeless wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the other troubles that found me. I guess that’s why it’s called trouble. You don’t have to look for it, it finds you.
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[ page 16 ]
To Impeach Is Patriotic
But I relate about the ladies’ room to show that I never chose to be homeless, but that was also part of why I ran for mayor, to promote housing rights. This was a message I could not successfully convey. I wanted people like me whom were forced to live in commercial units to have eviction protection. Also, I wanted separate pathways for bicycles, and free Muni with a downtown transit assessment district to give free transport to residents of SF. I wanted to fully legalize marijuana, end wars, and support 9-11 truth. I even had a bumper sticker painted onto the back of my taxicab that read, “To Impeach is Patriotic.” Imagine that. Sort of like saying, “Question Authority,” use to see that all the time. I wanted Total Amnesty for undocumented people. I still do. People are people, no matter what the papers say.
One incident that occurred around this time when the situation at the ladies’ room was deteriorating, I believe in April of ‘07, was at Rainbow Grocery, involved this Black Bear security guard named Yakub. I had already purchased more stuff than I could carry, so I left some inside, already paid for, and swung the van around front , but meanwhile the store had just closed, when , then I went back inside for the rest of my stuff. But Yakub assaulted me, grabbing me, my stomach near my heart, and saying sternly, “WE’RE CLOSED.” I reacted badly to being assaulted, curling up in to a ball crying and asking for the police, like a fool. But when the cops showed up, they refused to charge Yakub with assault, and although that store had been full, now, magically, no one had seen this assault, when he grabbed me. It was an incident that was a harbinger of more storms to follow.
Living in the ladies’ room allowed me to start my own business, and to accept the offer of a (ramp) taxicab medallion, which was available to folks who were actually working cab drivers, is how the system had been since 1978, under Prop K. Now just this year they’ve instigated a pilot program to sell these medallions to earn a very slight income for this too poor city that is now all of a sudden so broke; income at the expense of hopes and dreams of long time hard working taxicab drivers, whose promise of the future they’d worked so hard to earn is now being broken.
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Living in the ladies room makes sense once you know.