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PokerFace to Rock the PorcFest

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  • Tim Condon
    * The Free State Project s* * Second Annual Porcupine Freedom Festival* * will be held on* * Saturday, July 23, 2005, thru Sunday, July 31, 2005 * *
    Message 1 of 1 , May 8, 2005
      *
      The Free State Project's*
      * Second Annual Porcupine Freedom Festival*
      * will be held on*
      * Saturday, July 23, 2005, thru Sunday, July 31, 2005 *
      * at*
      * 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.
      Get ready.
      */
      ------------------------------------------------------------------------
      /*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
      http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FSP_polycommunity/.
      */
      ------------------------------------------------------------------------
      /*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?
      */
      /*SYATPF!*/
      /*(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
      http://www.freestateproject.org/news/festival/lodging.php.
      5. To see what PorcFest 2005 is going to be like, take a look at
      PorcFest 2004 reports and pictures online at
      http://freestateproject.org/news/festival/festival04/
      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
      http://groups.yahoo.com/group/porcfest2005.
      */
      ------------------------------------------------------------------------
      /* 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
      http://www.freestateproject.org/news/festival/publicity/.)
      "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
      some CG's."
      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
      listened, horrified.
      "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
      voice.
      "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
      else, too."
      "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
      attacking you?"
      "Yeah," Frank Bennett muttered, anger clouding his voice.
      "It...it was
      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
      again quietly.
      "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
      right."
      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
      underneath.
      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
      face.
      "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
      to panic."
      "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
      tonight...."
      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,
      man?"
      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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