Madigleone's Reign of Terror They've cut the corn in the fields. Harvest time is here. The cover for the deer is now gone and the winds will whip in heightened enthusiasm across barren fields. The forcast calls for descending temperatures starting the day after tomorrow. Until this swirl of cold escaping from the polar dark completes its swoop across the eastern seaboard, It's not just the tilt of the earth you know that makes winter cold. It's the sunless dark at the north pole. With no solar radiation the temperatures plumet most extremely up there. And the heavy cold air rolls down from the north pushing the heat up and south. The shortened days of winter are not enough to account for the temperature changes. It's the six months of polar night. It gets real cold at the pole in winter. It's the refrigerator unit for the northern hemisphere in winter. We've come a long ways since my opening entry in early july, you and I. We've shared a wonderful summer. I have a place lined up downtown. And now, as the circle of darkness continues to grow in the far north with each passing day, you and I will share passage. As the polar darkness grows I fear my story will turn more bleak. I have to get back to the Madigleone story. He wanted to know what I had against gays. He was greatly concerned that I wrote about inferior people. He wanted to know why I spelled "penis" as "peanus". And he was very intense and was always in the form of some understanding friend who just wanted the truth. Then came the few things he needed help with. Someone has been carving the swastika design into local cornfields. And I was familiar with the area and had ived here for a while, thus I might be able to shed some light on it. So I looked at the arial pictures and a few pictures taken inside the corn "hallways" through the cornfield that had been carved out by the cornfield nazis. All he did was needle and weasal at me trying to get me to say I did it. Every idea I had, he praised as being smart and then followed it up with a remark or question which suggested I was the ring leader of the cornfield nazis. I slowly began to get really turned off by his deportment. He wasn't thinking with me at all. Thats how the cops in the novels do it. He didn't care a twit about anything I said. It was like talking to an insect. So about six hours after first being chained to the bench I was driven home and my abduction was at an end. Then he came back the next day. Pulled into the farm leading a procession of vehicles. Showed me some new pictures. Wanted to talk some more. Had a whole gang of old cops with him and another state investigator was with him. Couple more hours at the police station. Asked me if he could search the house. I told him...something lke this. "You know how you keep insinuating I spend my time carving swastickas in the cornfield? Well...I'm the same way about saying 'No, you can't search my house". He got into this..well if you have nothing to hide routine. And I said that if he wanted to search my house he'd have to act like a Nazi. He did. Like I had challenged him. Without a warrent. Because he had a consent form signed by the real estate manager. Now.....this was all during the last two days I had to leave the house before the eviction.All these large blocks of time had been stolen from me. My stuff was spread all over anyway, and now I had a bunch of Nazi Hunters searching through it. Very unpleasent experiance this was for me. However. During this an interesting event happened. The policeman who patrols the flood culverts searching out grafitti, admitted to me he was the one who stopped Dominic. Dominic is a good friend of mine. Probably the closest relationship I had among the last citizens of Fair Acornia. Dominic had lived here for several years. Dominic is an immigrant. Dominic has shiny black skin and is a very large individual. He told me about being stopped and checked out by the police as he drove down the dirt access road towards the farmhouse one night. So.....the local police knew Dominic lived here. I also felt the local polce were slightly embarrased at the extremes the State Nazi hunters had gone through. Yet....how can I reconcile that belief to the series of police raids which were to follow? Thats another story. And the answer is.....the 93,000 dollars which is missing from the social security system. It answers everything which had/has been happening to me since my return from the Mayan village in the rainforests of central america and discovered the ole U.S.A. had gone crazy. So that day when the Helicopter came to Aconia it was Madigleone in search of the cornfield Nazis. I recognized the helicopter as the one often parked downtown near the State Justice building. And after it circled several times it left in the direction of either the small local country airport or the Police station. Both are in the same direction. And Madigleone's office is in the State Justice Building. In the background during this episode, I heard cops say subliminally, "welfare cheat", "at least we weakened him", and when questioned about what I do for money there was an absence of interest. At the time I did not relate this to the missing 93,000 dollars. They did indeed weaken me. This was a very profound experiance. And look...right now..right here..... I know that this stuff about slightly overheard whispers whle being harassed by the police could be written off as the usual schiz symptoms. I accept that. But I also accept it fits. And the basis of my conflct is real and my arguments are based on evidentiary documents. So....I write this off. I'm not counting on creating belief in others about the validity of this experiance.. This is just personal window dressing. None of this is an argument. It's just my story as I see it. I feel a lot better now the corn is all down and the combines have left. I don't have to worry about the Nazis sneaking up on Acornia during the night. Searching for my short wave radio (Webtv terminal) I use to reach out to the free world. Just like they did in World war two in France? The resistance's heart still beats strong. The spiritual revolutionary continues his struggle.

Bird language and group sentiment. In New Jersey, at least, the farmers used to dig these rectangle ponds along the edge of wetlands. Then they'd stick a pump in them and water their fields. Many years ago they outlawed that practice. Farmers now just have to risk it , and trust in the rain. These ponds however still exsist. There are several along the swamp's edge. Just a dog walk's distance away. One in particular extends out into the wetlands. Apparently as it was dug they piled the dirt onto one side. The effect is there is this elevated walk way that extends into the wetlands. It's one of my "secret" places. I've gone there and sat on several occassions. And swam too. Easy way to get into the water there and though it's no longer as deep as it was when oiginally dug, if you are careful the bottom doesn't come too close. There are trees on the elevated side and swamp grasses else where. The Redwinged Black bird tends to live in those environments. It has a little shoulder patch of red on each wing so they call it the redwinged blackbird. I've read they are shy of the environs of man but I've seen a couple who have the nerve to frequent around houses. Clearly their real playground is the swamps. Their song? Okay......you have to know the song. The local dialect of the redwing can be described by using a fragment of a Stephen Foster song. "I dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair", "Way Down Upon the Swanne River", he wrote them. Famous song writer. He had a broken heart over some woman and never stoped drinking. He died on the streets broke. Way down upon the Swanne River....you know the tune he put to those words right? Well, leave out the note for "Way" and the note for "ne". The redwing sings those notes in almost that cadence and follows it in rthyme with a strange double noted elongated peal. It's two notes at once and lasts as long as "down upon the Swann". I've never heard another bird sing a double note. So birds have dialects. There are regional differences in bird songs. Like accents among people I imagine. I've noticed these regional accents or dialects. "Accent" is a better word and more accurate a description. Birds are supposed to have only two trans-species "words". One word in the common bird language is "Alert!! Raptor Sighted !!". This cry is easy to learn, for a human, because all the other bird songs stop except this cheeping sound. The supposed magic to it is this "word" is pronounced with out the "highs" being present. According to a bird program on public television this is not audile to a hawk, or other raptors. Thats one Bird word. The other bird word is when they catch a raptor at a low altitude and they call a "mob". I don't know this word. But I've hear it means "Everybody!! Lets get the Hawk!!". I've seen meny mobbings of raptors. Just never got a good hearing of the "word". Being as raptors eat other birds they have to face a lot of social castigation and ostricism. Once while collecting eggs for the incubator at the turkey farm I ,apparently, initiated a disrespect cycle with one of the hens. Hens are not like Toms. It's easy to beleve they are even of a different species according to your eye. The coloring of their feathers is the same. But toms have this giant bald and often bright red head. And this loose skin that draps under their chins. And their posture is drastically different. And a tom can be 15 to 20 pounds bigger then a hen. Least the domestic varieties. So I was kind of surprised to see this "Tom behavior" in a hen. That she did indeed have a "thing" for me however is without dispute. Well....she made a sound to let me know she was upset and angry. She also made sudden and explosive attacks at my hands as I reached into each nest box through the backdoor from my side of the fencing. She was really upset with me. She remembered me too. Everytime I collected the eggs from that barn she'd be ready for me. and follow me from box to box waiting for my hand to reach for the eggs. In my bird experiance I've heard clear variations of this same hen turkey sound from wild birds. Perhaps, all wld birds. But with resonable certainty I can say many. Therefore I suspect there is another trans-species bird word perhaps spoken only by the females which says..."PISSED!! Boy am I PISSED". Usually this cry is heard while there is a distinct absence of the usual background of bird songs. I think it causes the absence of the background bird songs. Perhaps a Jay or a mocking bird had harrased their nest. Once while sitting at my secret place on the swamp promanade I was listening to the Redwings. Redwings spread out all through the swamp and you hear one over there, another off to the right., some out in the distance. And sporadically they turn this particular cry they have loose across the wetlands. While I was sitting there, perhaps sun drying from a dip before wrestling a bare foot through my dungaree legs, a new redwing showed up and entered this swamp communication pattern these birds had apparetly established. Immediately after his initial song the entire swamp went silent. He said something wrong I imagined. Being as most of my inate sentiment is based on my mammelian DNA I'm probably simply not equipted to understand the implications of avian communication. Remember Hawk in the old Buck Rodgers series? According to my understanding of other intelligent life besides man and our communication with 'them" ; I feel fright at the concept. Just consider it for a moment. Sure.....we can tap on the walls like prisoners of the viet-cong used to do and establish a commuication pattern. We could probably run through mathematics past the quadratic equation and into all it's implcations. All accomplished through one of these ears we have amed at the stars in search of signals from other technological civilizations somewhere out in the surrounding void. No problem with talking math. Another non-terestial intelligent life form would have commpletely unique emotional bias and carry different valence on its values and ideals then us. Literraly, we'd have no idea of who we were talking to. We may not even be capable of understading the "what" of who they are. The areas within which we could identify with each other as individuals and as cultures may be limited to mathematics. We don't know, yet. The problem with this new bird's song slowly became evident. He didn't have it straight. He was apparently a young bird. Out of the silence would come one clear and well formed song. The new bird would emulate it. Then slowly everyone else bagan to establish this web of song across the swamp grass. Until the new bird would goof a little then silence reigned once again. It became so obvious the redwing had yet to establish the correct accent. And I sat there and listened as the flock coached him along. And provided negative reinforcement with their silence curbing his misplaced enthusiasms. The redwings have left sometime ago. They arrive before the first spring bulbs break the soil. The redwing is really the first signal of spring. I love their song. Late in the season you get to hear how their song has been practiced and polished to perfection. I've always noticed that. Now I understand it's because of the training of the young. As the birds would begin to establish the full song with all the predessory notes before the the double "trill" sound in their swamp union, the new birds, the young birds, would make a mistake. Then silence would reign. Then with caution, all through the swamp, the complexity would slowly build again towards the full song of mid summer known well by the older birds until the pattern was distorted by the uninitiated. Fascinating experiance it was for me to be there for that.

Yawnings and Dawnings It's pretty much mid-October now and the nights have definately picked up a tree blushing chill. I supect the chill from a few nights previously will show in reds and yellows shortly. I only like summer. When I was a kid and lost in the enthusiasms of my peer group for sledding and ice skating I convinced myself I enjoyed winter. I was mistaken. Spring and fall are only a tease of summer for me. The eskimos are a real puzzel to me. It simply staggers my belief understanding there is breed of people who live among ice flows and bitter cold. Of course....being as I'm a member of the Planetary Society whose goal is the human colonization of mars such piddling extremes as eskimos and rainforest Maya shouldn't bother me. Sure mars has 50 degree summer days. But in an atmosphere that thin the night temperatures plumet unmercifully. The extremes of temperature between night and day in the high desert, here on earth, are almost 40 degrees. I remember sweating profusly in the day and having my water jug freeze overnight. Now that they found frozen water on mars we know that by sending a current through it we can get hydogen for fuel and oxygen for breathing. H2O right? That breaks down chemically into hydrogen and oxygen in the presence of electric current. So you'd just have to hook up some photovoltic plates to change the sunlight into electricity. Garbage and human wastes produce methane. That means more fuel and a plant growing medium besides as the decay rate stabilizes. Don't forget that our strength would be multiplied under one fourth gravity. It would also be far easier to send "producs" to earth then it is the other way around. Mining would not only create human habitat but mineral wealth as well. And information, mars would have information to sell to the earth dwellers. Just have to find people who wanted to live under a red sky is all. So maybe eskimos have what they want and live where they choose. After all. I expect people to choose to live on Mars at some point in the future. Carl Sagan was the founder of the Planetary Society. I believe a sense of adventure and exploration is critical to the proper functioningof the human psyche. I know people are starving and the assaults on our social programs continue pushing us towards jungle law. I still support the financial investment necessary for exploration of Mars. I believe it is critical for us as a species to continue these involvements. It takes soldier's blood to establish and maintain a monetary system. And the purpose of this abstracted value system called "money" frees us from the barter system and allows the flow of products and trade. It's a distribution system we're talking about. Communism was a failled distribution system in Russia. Forget this political smoke screen they wave in front of us discussing liberty and freedom. Those are seperate issues. And those who have accumulated within our system appear to be unwilling to recognize that the system is supported by men under arms. And those men and their families own the system. So these arogant voices of the financially secure is mere spoiled children's pattle when it comes to the often voiced sentiment that everyone on welfare is a cheat. Or when espousing self sufficiency as a counter argument to extreme need. They should use their positions to encourage unity with the poor instead of chastisement. They're STUPID in their hoarding of wealth. They don't understand. The poor and the disenfranchised own the system as much as the rich. The only justification of a capitalist system is it's social welfare programs. Else it is nothing but jungle law and the intent of social unity implied in our history and government documents a lie. Andrew Carnegie the rich indusrialist professed that a rich man does not own his wealth but is the adminstrator of the wealth. Ufortunately He was known for quite ruthless anti-union sentiment towards his employees. But he also established libraries and made generous contributions to institutions of learning. The financially secure have to help. Carnegie knew this. I suppose I lost the support of a lot of republicans revealing my political slant. ah yes.....yawnings and dawnings. I hope the beagle doesn't die. Times are getting desperate. She can't go with me. Her owner has yet to find a place and is still in the welfare motel.. The cold is increasing. I'll be forced to move permanently into my room downtown. She just went for a little exploration outside and as she trotted by the barn door her tail was wagging in simple glee. The cold and heartless hands of the animal control people are getting closer little beagle. She's old, quiet and sedate. Has a particular fondness for eating and sleeping and she does these things well. brrrrr......cold. Tonight isn't supposed to be this cold. Maybe the time is getting shorter for beagle. I'm a guitar player. I'm 53. Pretty old heh? Guess I should get to the police raids part of the story. They were quite exciting. So there.....yawnings and dawnings.

The Cops!!! I've been sick. Apparently I had West Nile Fever. I had all the symptoms I found at the websites. Not the mennigitus of course. Most of the time it's asymptomatic but when it ain't you get weak, low fever, frontal headaches...... Pretty exotic don't you think? Then shortly after that left me I picked a plain ol' cold. A REAL plain ol' cold. Heavy sinus congestion and all. So my time at fair Acornia has been greatly curtailed. But it's been getting on into October now and my time there is getting short. I'm thankful I had located a good room downtown. Okay, yeah, so, here's the cop story. I was coming back from the water with a bath towel swung round my shoulders and a pair of garden shears in my hand. The kind that look like giant sizzors. I used to trim hedges with a pair just like them when I was a kid. I had been using them to trim back some of the vegatation so I would have a easy path to the the creek and the submerged flat rock which was my bath room during the warm summer months. I told you about it in an earlier writting. Dog had run ahead long before and I was coming up to the Acornian Throne room. The throne room is where I have a hammock stretched out and an armchair and a table. It's my throne room. It may be lacking fine tapestries hanging on stone walls and barren of standing suits of armour yet surely it is a symbol of the personal grandiosity I carry when facing adversity merely by the name that shaded clearing carried and the significance I extended to it. It was the Acornian Throne Room as far as I was concerned and I ,of course, the Regent. There was a cop in it. This was after the helicopter experiance. There he was. All pressed and dressed. Now you recall about how they were trying to say I cut these swasticka ino the cornfields ,right? And those swastickas were big. Way too big to be done with a simple pair of shears right? YES....maybe you need prompting....YES....way too big to be done with shears, There was this cop standing there in my throne room and I have this pair of shears in my hand. I'm not used to being scared of cops. Least not before the flat brainers took command of the country while I was in central american rainforests. But now that I'm getting use to abductions and being chained to benches I'm scared of cops. He asked me if I was XXX XXXXX. (My bio-name is a secret) Then he took me out to the other cop. She was a lady cop. The lady cop was standing there at the barn door She was talking with a visiting ex-roomie of Acornia. Ex-roomie was eating from a box of Kentucky Fried Chicken. After the policepersons left she filled me in. The cops had pulled up real slow and quiet and snuck up on the farmhouse. One ducked and ran to the left side, the other approached the right. Being as my friend was out by the barn door she had a good view. They tried the door nobs and creeped up to the windows. They were "looking for business" she explained to me. Then they saw her watching as they headed back to their car. House is all padlocked and has sheriffs notice on the door. So.....when asked what she was doing there my friend gestured in the air with a chicken leg and explained "eating chicken.". The police lady was clearly the boss of the two and once it was explained we were watching the "stuff" and that we were also friends of the excavation machine person whose heavy equiptment was parked nearby they left. I was worried by this. They knew I or someone was "there" and by the general drift of the questioning as to where it was I went to the bathroom , for example, I had the distinct impression my situation had previously been discussed in detail and conclusions reached. I've had the idea I've been the subject of meny meetings and the object of meny conclusions since my visit to the Mayan Village. It's why it's been so darn hard tryin to figure out whats been going on. Nobody ever stops to fill me in on the present state of the psychosis that has swept my social arena . I feel a litle like one of those presidents of small contries who goes away and when he comes back a coup has taken place. However....as this story fragment continues you will share with me the awe and wonder of discovery as I realized for the first time what was at the root of my expulsion from the just concerns of others. Why I was the pyriah I had become? Why I had the social acceptance of a Palestinian who tries to sell Kosher food in Jerusalem? I was on the verge of finding a key that would explain the why of the sudden decline in my circumstances. To be continued.

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