PokerFace to Rock the PorcFest
The Free State Project's*
* Second Annual Porcupine Freedom Festival*
* will be held on*
* Saturday, July 23, 2005, thru Sunday, July 31, 2005 *
* Rogers Campground & Motel, Lancaster, New Hampshire
/*5/8/05: PFS (PorcFest Spam) #8*/
/*Rock Concert Happening at the PorcFest*/
/* THE WORD came across the email wires from PorcFest Czar (PFC)
Varrin Swearingen, as it so often does: "The band is booked! So we have
a great concert to look forward to at the PorcFest!"
The band is Poker Face, out of Allentown, PA. The band members are
Rich Valentin (drums, percussion), Brett Griffiths (guitar, drums,
vocals, and keyboard), Paul Topete (vocals, guitars, keyboards), and
Dennis Beidler (bass, vocals). You can find out all about them, listen
to some of their awesome sound, and see some video of PokerFace in
action at their website at http://www.pokerface.com Their sound is raw,
hard rock with a message, and that message is individual freedom. They
are said to be the voice of "Freedom Rock," and they've been active in
the past with the Libertarian Party and supported Michael Badnarik's LP
Presidential campaign. Their latest album if "Made in America."
And. They. Do. Rock. OUT.
See Poker Face and listen to their sound at their web site by
clicking on "The Video: Latest Video." Pay attention to those lyrics,
and check out Control (Kontrol). You won't hear anything like it
anywhere else. These guys list PokerFace Friends at
http://www.pokerface.com/html/pf_links.html. Some of the links listed:
Gun Owners of America, Judges Human Rights Crime Information Center,
Keep and Bear Arms (KABA), the Libertarian Party, Liberty Tree Radio,
Libertarian Rock, Media ByPass, NORML, Second Amendment Sisters, Sierra
Times, and We The People, among many others.
It's the rock-driven sound of a new American Revolution. And you're
going to get to hear them for free at the Second Annual PorcFest.
/*FSP Polyamory Gathering at the PorcFest*/
/* Denise Penkalski is the FSP's polyamory community liaison at
http://freestateproject.org/getinvolved/liaisons/. She writes, "I'll be
holding a room party (primarily byob, for socializing) for the FSP
polyamory group at the Porcfest, I think on the last Friday night. For
location, tell people to find me and ask on Friday (I won't know what
room number until I check in), or find others wearing the
'Poly-the-Parrot' buttons, and they should be able to tell how to find
me." Find out more about the FSP Polyamory group at their website at
/*The PorcFest Starts 11 Weeks from now...*/
/*...has anyone looked at the full week's schedule found online at the
FSP website at http://freestateproject.org/news/festival/schedule/
lately? It's firming up, and there's going to be a ton of things to do
with your fellow freedom-lovers. Look at it, and look at the speakers
who are going to be there, from LP Presidential candidate Michael
Badnarik, to former NH state Rep. Don Gorman, to educational historian
Samuel Blumenfeld, to FSP founder Jason Sorens, to FSP president Amanda
Phillips, to FSP VP and famous 2nd Amendment attorney Evan Nappen, to
national privacy advocate Katherine Albrecht, to Coalition of New
Hampshire Taxpayers chairman Ed Naile, to FSP Welcome Wagon
super-activist and super-mom Margot Keyes, to Bureaucrash national
leader Heather Talley, to James Bovard, libertarian author of "Freedom
in Chains" and "The Bush Betrayal."
YIKES! Then there's the PorcFest kickoff party on Saturday, the
23rd, the tours of the Free State on Monday and Tuesday, the 25th and
26th, the 2nd Amendment classes organized by and run by various FSP gun
experts, including Bill Walker, Sam Cohen, Tony Lekas, Evelyn Logan, and
others! Not to mention the classes on the Constitution taught by Michael
Badnarik, the NH Towns Tour on Thursday, the 28th, the Mock Town Hall
Meeting with town selectman Mary Gere in Unity, NH that afternoon, and
the Mt. Liberty Hike with Dr. Michael Edelstein out of San Francisco, CA!
But wait! There's more: The NHLA Seminar taught by Don Gorman on
Friday the 29th, the PokerFace rock concert that night, the Polyamory
party that night, the Leadership Luncheon mid-day on the 29th, and the
Marketing Libertarianism and the FSP seminar being given that afternoon.
And that's all before the SPEAKERS get cranking on Saturday, the
30th, we have the FSP volunteer recognition ceremony, the Ron Paul
speech at the NHLA dinner in Plymouth, and the boozy, bibulous, and
always threatening to spin hilariously out-of-control Circle of
Liberty, hosted later that Saturday night by Yours Truly.
There's gonna be too much to do! But I don't care. I'm going to catch
it all. And it's all Free. So be there. Or be square.
/* NEXT WEEK I want to talk at length about the New Hampshire Liberty
Alliance (NHLA) 2005 Liberty Dinner to be held on Saturday night in
Plymouth, NH. Ron Paul is going to speak, and so are some other very
cool, very libertarian, very wonderful people. I'll also be be writing
about the Circle of Liberty, which is scheduled to go off like a
Revolutionary War cannon (figuratively speaking, of course) that night,
starting at about 10:30 p.m.
Need I say more?
/*(See You At The Porc Fest!)*/
/* FURTHER NOTES:
1. You need to be a part of it! For all information about the
PorcFest 2005, go online to www.freestateproject.org/festival. Join in
both attending and helping to publicize the 2nd Annual Free State
Project Porcupine Freedom Festival...aka the "PorcFest 2005."
2. FORWARD THIS EMAIL to your own email lists. We all have lists of
friends, family, and freedom-lovers we know, and they should all have
the opportunity to plan on attending PorcFest 2005. So when you receive
this PorcFest spam, pass it on!
3. In 2004 the We'll Be There List topped out at about 177, and over
300 people attended. Today there are 229 on the list. To check out who's
already signed up, go to
http://freestateproject.org/news/festival/bethere2005.php...and then add
yourself and your family members!
4. Lodging and accommodations at the Porc Fest: Here's everything
you need to know about the Lancaster, NH campground and motel where the
PorcFest will be held, as well as other local lodging; go to
5. To see what PorcFest 2005 is going to be like, take a look at
PorcFest 2004 reports and pictures online at
6. If you have any questions, email Varrin Swearingen, our "PFC"
(Porc Fest Czar) for this year, at varrin@..., or me,
Tim Condon, at tim@... (813-251-2626). Many people are
helping put this thing together, but we need you too. Help by joining
the PorcFest planning email list at
/* SUPERCHARGED SOLITONS, Chapter 8, By Tim Condon*/
/*(Note: This is the latest chapter in a dystopian-future science
fiction novel where the United States has gone to hell and only the Free
State and its fiercely independent, individualistic, and defiant
citizens observe the Constitution and maintain traditional American
freedoms; as such, they continue to prosper amid the wreckage elsewhere
in America. Each chapter appears at the end of each PFS, all of which
can be found and read online at
"Oh God!" gasped Linda Bennett as he husband stepped into the
apartment and she spied the blood soaking his jacket forearm. "What
happened! What happened!" She pulled the jacket from his back and held
his arm examining the gash in it.
"You're not going to believe this!" he said, fairly bursting
with excitement, but pausing for effect. "I think I've got a
breakthrough on the soliton pumping equations at work!"
Linda Thomas stopped, stared at him. "Jesus!" she exploded. "You
come home covered with blood with your arm half cut off and the police
after you and you tell me you ran some computer equations?"
"Uh, yeah," he said ruefully, as if he'd forgotten to mention a
minor detail. "I did have a brush on the Metro. A couple of BC's...and
Linda gasped again, raising her hand to her mouth. Everyone in
Miami knew the Castro-Guevaras and their bloodthirsty reputation. She
started crying and he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm okay, I'm okay,"
he murmured soothingly. He peered over her head at his forearm; it was
gashed, but wouldn't need stitches. A good bandage would take care of it.
Suddenly, without warning, Frank Bennett began shaking. "Linda,"
he stammered, holding her fiercely to him. "I love you, I love you so
much...." She held him silently.
After some time Linda Bennett went to get some bandages and
peroxide from their cabinet, then returned and began cleaning his wound.
"What happened?" she asked as she bandaged the arm. Her husband
stammered out the story of what had happened, still shaking. She
"There were two block committee people, an older guy and an old
lady. They were hassling me on the train, demanding my ID and so forth."
"What did you do?"
"Basically told them to buzz off. The Constitution may not mean
much these days, but they still didn't have any right to be hassling me.
Then the Castro-Guevaras came into the car." He sighed. "There was a fight."
"What happened to the BC's?"
"I don't know. They probably got hurt...real bad...at the very
least." He sat mutely in the dim light for a moment. "They may have been
killed, Linda." He heard his wife's sudden horrified intake of breath.
"Wasn't there anything you could do?" she asked him in a small
"I barely got off the train alive myself," he murmured, as if
amazed at the fact. Then, after a moment, he added: "There's something
"What's that?" she asked fearfully.
"The two BC's tried to get the CG's to join them, to gang up on
me," he said bitterly.
"Frank, you've got to be wrong," Linda said with quiet
conviction. "You're telling me the BC's invited the CG's to join in
"Yeah," Frank Bennett muttered, anger clouding his voice.
like they were on the same side. It's like the BC's are auxiliaries of
the damned government, and the CG's get to be auxiliaries of the BC's.
Everyone has fun except for the citizens. That's why I didn't look back
when I got the hell out of there." He ran a hand nervously through his
hair. "But it didn't work. Three of the GC's attacked the two BC's while
the gang leader came after me."
Linda Bennett put her arm around his head and pulled him to her.
"It's easy to see why so many people hate the BC's," she said. "They're
supposed to be helping fight crime."
"Yeah," he replied. "Maybe the wackos up in the Free State have
a point after all." He was referring to the fact that the only state in
the nation which had refused to institute Block Committees "to fight
crime"--and thus turned down millions of dollars in federal monies--was
New Hampshire. The legislature had voted against it when it had been
proposed, and both Governor Nappen and attorney general Phillips had
said they would resign rather than implement the plan if it passed. They
needn't have threatened. The block committee plan, like so many other
demands by the federal government over the years, had been laughed out
of the state legislature.
Frank Bennett sat thinking, his arms around his wife, eyes
staring into a distance that only he could discern. Then a subtle change
came over him. "Those printouts, Linda. I'm telling you, I may have made
some kind of breakthrough at the lab...one that could...could...." His
eyes lost their focus, then came back to his wife. "Linda, if I'm right
on about this, it could have an impact on the whole...the whole world."
"Well, change the world in your workshop this weekend," she said
shakily, her voice grating, skittering along the edge of hysteria. "Do
you realize you could have been killed by those Castro-Guevara animals?"
"Yes," he whispered "Yeah, I guess so. I might have been able to
dodge the whole thing if I hadn't been thinking about those equations
while I was on the train."
Linda Bennett pushed him back on the bed, then tugged at his
feet, pulling off his boots and socks; she pulled off his jeans and
underpanets, then sat him upright and pulled off his T-shirt. She sat
beside him and held his face in her hands, gazing into his eyes. "Oh
God, Frank...you could have...I could have lost you." She began to weep
"I'm sorry, Honey," he murmured, pulling her head down to rest
on his chest. "It's okay...I made it...I'm all right."
"I know, I know," she whispered into his chest. "It's just
that...I couldn't bear to lose you."
He held her to him, kissing the top of her head. "It's all
right," he whispered, trying to calm her. "I came out okay. We'll be all
Linda Bennett snuffled, then wiped her nose. Frank pulled her
face to his, and they kissed, holding each other, blotting out the world
beyond them. "Kiss me again," she whispered to him, her lips moving
against his lightly.
"I think I just did," he murmured back. "Several times."
"Not enough," she said, looking up at him through lowered
eyelashes. Torpidly, through a growing haze of desire, Linda Bennett
felt a primal urge. Her man had fought and survived. He was hers, over
the favor of any other woman. He was bloodied, but had survived.
The two felt the warmth of rising lust. A gentle, ironic smile
crept to Linda Bennett's face, manifesting the pleasure of her knowledge
and desire. Ever so gently, she lowered her head to kiss at his neck,
then drifted down his shoulders, caressing his chest with her lips. With
one hand she reached down, wrapping her fingers around him. Her breath
caught in her throat as she felt his hardness. She stood up, stepped
back from the side of the bed, and without a word unzipped the front of
her sweat jacket, slipping it from her shoulders. She wore nothing
Frank Bennett gazed at his wife, wondering at her beauty, her
perfect, lithe body, as if discovering it anew. Her nipples were
enlarged with desire as she tossed her head to one side, flipping her
hair over one shoulder. She bent down, sliding the elastic sweat pants
down over her hips and her long, slender legs, then stood naked before
her husband. Linda moved closer to him, reached down and gently nudged
his legs apart, running her fingers up the inside of his thighs.
"Does your arm still hurt," she said in a husky low voice.
"Less and less."
She leaned down to kiss him again...and they both heard a news
alert coming from the droning television in the background. They froze.
"Police tonight are involved in a massive manhunt for a white
male that police are already calling the Metro Murderer," came the
breathless voice of a talking head. "Two Block Committee volunteers,
just identified as William Avery and Nelda Nelson, were brutally
murdered tonight on the Metro by a lone gunman. Witnesses described the
killer as a white man about 30 years old, clean shaven and wearing a
military-type jacket. At least one passerby who attempted to assist the
Block Committee members was seriously injured, narrowly escaping death
himself. The good samaritan, who identified himself only as 'Mr. Chako',
described the scene of the crime to All News Network's Abel Jackson."
The television picture switched to a close-up of a heavily
bandaged face. It was the gang leader Frank Bennett had savaged. There
were no signs of the spikes that had decoratively pierced his nose,
cheeks and lips. "I wadn't doin' nuthin', just mindin' my own business,"
he yammered as the camera panned in on his disfigured face. The picture
then zoomed back, showing the thug lying on a hospital gurney, his right
arm held in a traction cast, bandages covering much of his face. "I hear
some screamin' in da next car," he said, "an' I run to check it out.
When I saw this motha cuttin' on these two Anglo BC's, I tried ta
stop'im, but he pulled a gun and shot the committee dude...almost blew
me away, too."
Frank and Linda Bennett were held frozen, staring at the screen,
all other thoughts fleeing.
"Oh shit," he breathed.
"What happened to your arm, Mr. Chako?" chattered the TV
reporter, thrusting the microphone again in front of the gang leader's
"I smashed it jumpin' outta one da train windows; da dude was
drawin' down on me and I hadta make my move. When I come out da window,
a wall hit da arm."
The TV picture cut back to the original talking head. "Mr. Chako
indicated that three other samaritans found him on the train platform
and dropped him at the hospital before speeding off themselves. Police
have set up a hotline at 377-0l85, urging anyone to call who has any
information about the Metro Maniac."
The picture cut away a half-asleep Miami Police Chief Halbert
Rodriguez, besieged by reporters thrusting dozens of microphones into
his face, shouting rapidfire questions at him, jabbing at him with the
microphones. "What is the police department going to do about protecting
the public from this gun maniac, Chief Rodriguez!" shouted one reporter,
his voice dubbed in over the general din by station technicians. The
other reporters seemed to quiet momentarily, and the police chief
haltingly answered: "We're going to find this maniac, there's no reason
"What about other block committee volunteers, Chief!" shouted
another reporter. "What about other innocent citizens that might want to
use the Metro, what about them?"
"We're doing all that can be done right now," said the police
chief. "We urge anyone with any information to step forward and call our
hotline at the earliest possible moment. This is just one more reason
guns are outlawed in Florida. Unfortunately there are still some social
misfit gun nuts out there who refuse to give up their firearms, and this
is the tragic result."
The picture switched back to the original news anchor, who
added, "Police reported what was apparently a crank call phoned in
immediately after the killings occurred, accusing the street gang known
as the Castro-Guevaras of the attacks. However, police authorities
discount the call, noting that rival gangs sometimes attempt to
implicate one another in incidents of violence. Meanwhile, in other news
Frank Bennett sat stupified in front of the television screen.
"Holy...shit!" he gasped. "I called that report in! They're not even
checking it out!"
"Calm down, calm down," Linda said, wrapping her arms again
around him, holding him tight. "There aren't any witnesses except for
that Chako and his buddies."
"Geez," Bennett breathed. "I've got to call the authorities.
They've got to know what really happened."
"No, wait!" Linda said, alarmed. "Do you realize how much chance
the truth would have in the atmosphere those news creeps have already
created? You're already convicted!"
Frank sat on the side of the bed and lowered his head into his
hands, thinking. Suddenly, as if jolted by electricity, he sprang up and
grabbed a phone, punching in a series of numbers. "Gotta call Bill," he
said over his shoulder as Linda sat fearfully on the bed.
"Bill," he said shakily as the phone was answered on the other
end. "How's it going, it's me, Frank." He paused. "Yeah, I know it's
4:30 in the morning; what the hell, gotta call and chat when I get the
chance." He had quickly regained his composure; he chuckled at something
said from the other side.
"Look, Bill, I need a favor." He paused, listening, as Linda
watched him silently from across the room. "No, no, it's nothing like
that. Look, when I left I met up with a honey...yeah, right there in the
middle of the night. And I need an alibi to keep it from Linda."
"I'm not reading you clear, Frank," said Bill Tidwell from the
other end of the phone. "It's not your style. What the hell is going on,
He sighed. Bill Tidwell was a friend; they'd shared beers and
stories of battles in Nicarauga and Panama from the older man, and
anti-guerilla campaigns in Mexico from the younger. They'd hand drinks
together many times at neighborhood taverns.
"Look Bill, you don't want to know." He paused, wondering
suddenly exactly how close his old friend was. "I need you to change the
logbook time I left the building tonight. I think it was about 2:30 when
I left. I need it changed to more like 4:00 a.m."
"Whaddaya talkin' about, Bennett? I can't make any changes!"
came the old Marine's voice over the phone. Frank Bennett's heart fell,
fear clutching the pit of his stomach. "Besides, I'm lookin' right here
at the log book. Your name's right here; it's the only one on the page.
I wrote it in myself, in ink." There was a pause from the other end. "It
says right here, 4:00 a.m. That's when you left. Whaddaya talkin' about?"
Frank Bennett let out a long breath of air. "Oh yeah, that's
right, I must have forgotten." He hesitated again. "Bill...much thanks."
"You keep your nose clean, Frank," said the grizzled old
veteran. "Yeah. Take care, Bill." Frank Bennett hung up. While his
wife took his bloodied jacket and threw it in the washing machine,
pouring liquid soap on the sleeve where the blood had soaked in, Frank
Bennett steadied himself and made another telephone call. He waited
momentarily, then spoke: "Rick, Frank here." He hesitated, listening.
"No, I can't right now, and I know it's 4:30 in the morning. I just need
you to know about something so you don't get blind-sided."
He waited a moment again, listening to the voice on the other
end. "Yeah. Look, just do this: turn on the TV, the news channel, and
watch it for awhile. Then keep quiet, man. I'll be in touch shortly." He
listened again for a moment, then said thanks and hung up. He threw
himself back down on the bed.
Linda Bennett finished at the washer and came back to the
bedroom. She stood naked in front of him again.
"I think I'm going to like you with a mustache," she said.
/*(to be continued)*/
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