PorcFest 2005 Roundup #3
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
/*5/22/05: PFS (PorcFest Spam) #10*/
/*PorcFest Roundup #3*/
/* * MORE STUFF is happening and being finalized with respect to
the Second Annual PorcFest 2005. So it's time for another roundup, as
*/Lest We Forget...the PorcFest is Free!/*
/ * HAVE YOU NOTICED* that the PorcFest is (mostly) free to
everyone? All you need to do is "make it," and you get to hear the
speakers, mix with the libertarians, go to shooting classes, talk
politics around multiple campfires, go on hikes to the top of mountains,
and attend the Circle of Liberty and other Happenings...all without
having to pay (doesn't include the NHLA dinner or Michael Badnarik's
courses, or the meals, but come ON, *most* of it is free). There's a
reason for that: If you come to the PorcFest, you'll fall in love with
the Free State. And the function of the PorcFest is to highlight the
Free State Project and the Free State. Thus, we've decided to make the
PorcFest "self-funding" each year. This year we've benefitted from some
extraordinary friends of liberty, and raised over $15,000 for individual
freedom and the PorcFest. Check it out online on the Free State Project
web site under "FSP Fundraising at http://www.freestateproject.org/.
* SO COME ONE, COME ALL...*and if you haven't gotten your plane
ticket, or planned to drive to the PorcFest...do it now.
*/2nd AMENDMENT ACTIVITIES.../*
/ ...planning is continuing apace. If you want to learn how to
shoot, polish your shooting skills, or just "pop a few caps," it's all
coming together. Multiple firearms will be available for beginners to
learn on, including .22 revolvers (excellent learning pieces), larger
caliber pistols, shotguns, and rifles. In addition, our shooting
teachers (Porcupines, all) are talking to a nearby gun club to the
PorcFest for shooting and teaching purposes (they have both pistol and
long-range rifle ranges), in addition to talking to the "sand pit" owner
for more informal shooting. It's going to be fun! Bring your ear-protectors!
*/EEEK!!! IT'S AN ORGY!/*
/ *Heh!* Two weeks ago I noted that the FSP Polyamory Group would
be holding a party at FSP Polyamory liaison Denise Penkalski's motel
room "primarily byob, for socializing," as Denise said. The party will
be held on Friday night. To find out the 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," says Denise.
* WELL!* Immediately after that announcement appeared, one
Porcupine objected vehemently (identity hidden to protect the guilty
party), saying "Forget about New Hampshire welcoming the FSP. When this
gets out to the newspapers -- and it will, with the translation "orgy"
-- whatever tolerance the Yankee Establishment might have considered for
the FSP will shut down tighter than a clam. This was NOT the way to win
hearts and minds."
* GEE,* responded PorcFest Czar Varrin Swearingen, "I wonder if
we'll get in trouble when we announce the Christian church service we're
holding for Porcupines on Sunday morning?" (No telling what the media
could do with that one!)
* Guilty Party *responded, "There are people on both sides of the
political aisle looking for any excuse to label the FSP as
trouble-making goofballs. I hope I'm wrong, but I predict there's going
to be a media storm over this, and whatever image the FSP might have
wanted to project as serious and positive contributors to New Hampshire
society will go right down the drain....Good luck with damage control."
* In the meantime,* there was doubtless a lot of laughter in
certain Porcupine corners. So for the statists and socialists who are
monitoring the PorcFest Spams, let me say "Earth to statists and
socialists: A polyamory social gathering is not an 'orgy'. And for those
of you who were hoping to find evidence of one, *so sorry!*" I myself
(boring old married guy) intend to visit the Polyamory party, and say
hello to the various good Porcupines in attendance. Perhaps Varrin and
Edie will drop by, as I hope Jason and Mary will too if they get a chance.
*Denise in the meantime* has written "I'm not a big one for party
rules, but please know that I expect the following, and reserve the
right to ask someone to leave my room if they don't observe them:
* Be respectful of the rules/laws of the campground/hotel/NH.
* Don't drink in my presence if you're under 21.
* Be respectful of all party attendees, as well as my personal
* I'm assuming that the hotel will shut down anything too rowdy,
so volunteer bouncers (besides myself as party monitor) will be
WOW. Really dangerous stuff going on there! But, tough as it may
be to admit, the Free State Project is about inclusiveness and
tolerance. Libertarians are like that. And a polyamory social
get-together does not an "orgy" make. LOL!!!
/*TALKING ABOUT DANGEROUS AND SUBVERSIVE STUFF...*/
/ ...FSP Vice President Evan Nappen has asked me to share with
everyone the following:
*/ANNOUNCING THE FORMATION OF THE PORCUPINE ENTREPRENEURIAL GROUP (PEG)/*
/ If you have ever said to yourself, "I want to move to NH, but
I don't know what I'm going to do when I get there," then PEG may be the
answer to your soul-searching. The FSP is a group of folks with a
variety of skills, experience, and knowledge. However, we have a common
goal --- to live in the Free State. The idea behind PEG is to focus our
most visionary entrepreneurs on creating a manufacturing Company in New
Hampshire. PEG will brainstorm to determine what product to produce. At
this time, a gun factory is a serious possibility; however, what
eventually will be made will be decided by the group. PEG will formulate
and execute on a business plan. The first meeting of PEG will be at the
Porcfest in July 2005.
PEG will create jobs for Porcupines moving to New Hampshire. It
will allow participants to live the Ayn Randian dream of production and
profit in the Free State. In order to join PEG, you must satisfy the
following five requirements, and be invited to join:
1. Be an FSP Participant.
2. Be willing to invest $50,000 or more into the Company.
3. Have a desire to own, start up, and work for a manufacturing
Company in the Free State.
4. Possess experience, knowledge, or a skill needed by the
Company (e.g. accounting, marketing, engineering, sales, law,
management, IT, HR, finance, machine shop skills, etc.)
5. Be a rational, forward-thinking person who is not afraid to be
creative or to take reasonable risks.
Send me your request for an invitation to PEG by answering 1-5
above and emailing them to me at gunesq@.... If you are
invited to join PEG, you will be told the time and place of the first
PEG meeting at the PorcFest. Let this be the first step toward our
economic freedom in the Free State. Please note, this is NOT an FSP
project, but rather a complimentary effort. --Evan Nappen
/*MEA CULPA, MEA CULPA, MEA MAXIMA CULPA! * /
/ *Oops. Apologies all around are in order. Last week I screwed
up in the following ways:*
* "Mooseboy" is Randall Wolfe, NOT Ian Scott, who is actually "DJ
Entropy". Randall was driving the ill-fated "Moose-Mobile" that slammed
into a moose on the way to the PorcFest 2004...with Ian in the car. No
one was hurt, thankfully.
* At the Circle of Liberty it was NOT "Mooseboy" who yelled out
"Bring on the Kool Aid!" Ian Scott, aka DJ Entropy, wants credit for it.
So it was Ian who yelled it out, not Randall.
* Rich Tomasso, an LPNH activist-extraordinaire, wrote to tell
me "you misspelled 'arcology'." Seems I spelled it "archology" at least
one time. Sorry, sorry, sorry! (On a side-note, added Rich, "One of the
founding members of the LPNH has designed an arcology tower structure
that could house tens of thousands of people." Drawings for the
structures were featured on the front cover of Infinite Energy magazine,
issue #49, found at
* Dr. Mike Edelstein out of San Francisco, as well as Jason and
several other eagle-eyes, wrote to tell me I misspelled the acronym for
the evil type of Republicans, calling them "RENO's" instead of "RINO's."
It is true that they are RINO's...but there are doubtless RENO types (as
in former U.S. attorney general Janet Reno) in the GOP also! Sorry anyway!
/ * NEXT WEEK* I want to talk about...food. There are going to be
several Big Meals to be had at the PorcFest, chances to gather together,
share the blessed Company of all freedom-loving people, and share
Need I say more?
/ * ("See You At The Porc Fest"! Note: This is Evan Nappen's slogan. I
stole it to use it here.)*/
/ *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 232 on the list. See who's
signed up at 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 10, 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
Frank Bennett was never apprehended for the killings on the Metro.
For months the media fanned the hysteria, and "Mr. Chako" found
himself feted as a hero by many of Miami's community leaders. He was
hailed by the Miami Sentinel editorial pages as a "model for the new
minority leader." Within a few months he was put in charge of a new
community redevelopment grant for a high-crime Latin section of the city.
When an enterprising investigative reporter for the Miami
Sentinel discovered Chako's long criminal record, including two charges
of murder that were dropped after witnesses refused to testify, the
debate within the Sentinel was sharp, but not prolonged. The story was
spiked. "Not enough facts," the managing editor blandly told the
reporter. He didn't explain that the editorial board was afraid of
hostile reading environment lawsuits from the ACLU if the story ran.
But some months later, when the U.S. Attorney's office in Miami
began investigating financial irregularities within the multi-million
dollar grant program, the reporter's story was resurrected and splashed
across the Sentinel front page. Although a grand jury heard allegations
that redevelopment grant money was being funneled into Castro-Guevara
gang coffers to finance drug importation, no indictments were handed
down. The reasons for the case being closed were never explained.
Two months after the story on financial irregularities broke,
the investigative reporter was mugged outside his condo and beaten so
badly that he lost an eye. "Bad luck," agreed the authorities. No one
thought it had anything to do with the CG's or Mr. Chako.
Six months after that Mr. Chako was found dead in an abandoned
car. He'd been injected with a massive amount of heroin, and $l,000 in
small bills was stuffed in his mouth. He'd had his fifteen minutes of
fame. The world shifted its attention. The Metro Vigilante was never
caught. The police and media moved on to other crimes, other stories.
The Block Committee Volunteers League (BCVL)---a new union formed by the
growing numbers of increasingly powerful block committee
volunteers---tried to keep the case open, but even they couldn't resist
public inertia. So instead they increased their agitation for ever
stronger enforcement of the anti-gun laws.
The world moved on to more interesting and current topics.
As for Frank Bennett, shortly after the Metro incident he had
met his best friend Rick Thomas at a small neighborhood tavern in a
rundown section of Miami. They often shared beer there after workouts at
their nearby karate dojo. Bennett walked into the bar and saw Thomas in
a booth at the back. He wandered toward the rear, uncharacteristically
examining all the faces he passed. No one sat near the booth where he
slid in across from his friend.
"Greetings, Frank," said Thomas in a low voice, "interesting
experiences you've been having lately." A friendly-looking waitress
strode up, and Bennett ordered a draft beer to match the one Thomas was
Bennett sighed as the waitress brought a beer in a frosted mug,
plunking it down in front of him. He took a long draught, then spoke
dryly: "No kidding."
He wiped foam from his mouth and glanced meaningfully at the
brown corduroy jacket he'd taken to wearing lately.
"You wanna tell me what went down out there?" Thomas asked,
raising his eyebrows. "Although, I must say, I think I've got a pretty
good idea anyway." He paused. "My guess is that the media and the system
are trying to stick some very bad stuff on you that you didn't do."
"You'd guess right," Bennett replied. He casually turned,
scanning the interior of the tavern. No one was nearby, nor did anyone
even appear interested in the two men sitting in the rear of the bar.
Bennett turned back, took another long drink from his beer and looked
across at his friend. "Listen to this," he said.
Some minutes later a silent whistle issued from the pursed lips
of Rick Thomas. "Man, that's bad. You could easily have been killed when
those BC scums invited those Castro-Guevaras to go after you."
"Yeah, I guess they had something like that in mind. They were
scared, and they knew the police couldn't get there in time to stop
anything that was going to happen."
"So they just figured they'd let it to happen to you," snorted
Thomas. "Isn't that just what you'd expect: real, get-down,
straightforward protection from crime!" He snorted again, taking a long
drag from his beer, raising it in tribute to his scientist friend.
Frank Bennett sat morosely. "You don't seem to be working up too
much sympathy for the two who got murdered," he noted dryly.
"You neither," shot back Thomas. "Listen Frank, we both have
trouble working up sympathy for people who love exercising power over
other people, and who enjoy pushing other people around. The difference
is that you and I come to that feeling from different places. You feel
the way you do because they tried to get you personally greased. I cop
my attitude because I'm a libertarian. It doesn't make any difference if
they try it on me, on my workout buddy, or some other innocent who
happens along. It's all the same, far as I'm concerned."
"Thomas Jefferson and everything, hah?" needled Bennett at his
"Not only Jefferson. He was good, but he didn't have the
understanding we've been gifted with today." Thomas paused, sipping from
his beer. "I'm talking about other voices of individual freedom: Mises,
Hayek, Sowell, Rand, Rothbard, Friedman, Walter Williams...people who
talk to us about freedom and justice, now and forever."
Bennett shook his head slowly back and forth. "Man, I just can't
believe I've got this black friend who's a flaming capitalist." He took
another draw from his beer. "I know it's not that hard to get there,
what with the government squeezing everyone with the damn block
committees, the gun searches, and so forth. But still, I just don't know
how you get there."
He smiled impishly and raised his mug to beer to his friend. He
liked needling Rick Thomas about his extremist libertarian politics, and
enjoyed listening and learning from the resulting declamations.
Dr. Richard Thomas was a philosopher, a writer, and an
economist. He had graduated from Harvard University as an undergraduate,
somehow avoiding the socialist propaganda that passed for a curriculum
at the school. He'd then earned a Ph.D. in politics and economics from
George Mason University before it had been shut down by multiple hostile
learning environment lawsuits, most of them essentially funded by the
federal government. Dr. Thomas also had had several scholarly books
published on the origins and foundations of capitalism, but with the
advent of hostile reading environment lawsuits, his books had quickly
been driven from the marketplace. Now they were out of print everywhere
except in New Hampshire, where hostile reading atmosphere lawsuits had
been banned under both the state and federal constitutions.
But everywhere else Rick Thomas had been destroyed financially
by the repeated lawsuits, even though he continued to publish in
underground publications that were always being sued and/or shut down by
the authorities. Now he made his living as a taxi driver in Miami,
despite the fact that he had repeatedly been offered a full
professorship at Free State University. The Free State U. people had
begged him to come to New Hampshire, not only for the prestige of having
him at the university, but also for his own protection. The wackos in
the Free State were worried about his safety as they observed government
becoming ever more repressive and out of control everywhere else.
Dr. Thomas had refused. "People need me more here on the street
than up there," he had told Free State envoys who had traveled to Miami
to meet with him. "Good things are going to happen eventually," he told
them. "Reassertion of individual freedoms. And I intend to be a part of
it when it happens."
The Free State people had argued with him. How could he or
anyone else be able to put up any resistance to the increasingly
repressive regime that the United States had become? How could he hope
to have any effect when his books had been driven from the bookstores
and he faced physical attacks from government goons wherever he was
invited to speak in public?
Dr. Thomas had merely smiled, and thanked the Free State people
for their concern, as well as for the offer at Free State University.
"But no thanks," he said. The Free Staters had gone back home to New
Hampshire, both disappointed and fearful for Dr. Thomas's eventual safety.
Dr. Richard Thomas looked across the tavern table at his friend
Frank Bennett. "Capitalism means freedom, Frank, it's a simple as that.
Those who don't understand that have no brains."
Bennett snorted. "All the school curriculums these days beg to
differ. You know how they put it: 'Capitalism is evil. It isn't
progressive. Capitalism doesn't care for people. It harms the
environment. Capitalism causes inequality. Only the government can make
sure we're all protected and all equal."
"Blah, blah blah..." responded Thomas. "You know what the Latin
root for capital is? It's 'capita'. Means 'head' in Latin. Thus,
capitalism is the most 'head-centered' form of human social and economic
organization. All the socialist drivel they pour into kids' heads in
the schools doesn't change it a bit. Obviously, what passes for
economics and government curriculums today doesn't have anything having
to do with brains."
"Worse yet," Thomas continued, "what they teach the kids about
'people-centered' versus 'money-centered' or 'corporation-centered'
systems is exactly the opposite of reality."
"Well, they seem to get away with it pretty well," said Frank
"Yeah, they do that. But the fact is, capitalism is the only
'people-centered' economic system that exists. Unfortunately, most of
its defenders, from Adam Smith to Ayn Rand, got it wrong. Both Smith and
Rand taught that capitalism is based upon selfishness, greed, and
venality. The fact is that capitalism is based upon gift-giving."
"Gift-giving?" repeated Frank Bennett, ordering another beer
from the passing waitress.
"Yep. The hallmarks of capitalism are faith, generosity, and
concern for the needs and desires of others. How else are you going to
be a successful capitalist, unless you figure out what other people
want? You produce it and sell it to them, and you get rich. You produce
something the masses don't want, and they proceed not to buy it. And you
go bust. Easy as that."
"Well, it doesn't look like anyone except the companies tied in
with some level of government are producing anything these days.
Especially with all the hostile this-and-that environment lawsuits.
"Yep," said Rick Thomas, taking another drink of his beer. "It
all fits right together: the government tells everyone that only it can
provide for them. Only it can protect them. Only it can decide who makes
what in the business world. Then it disarms them so they don't have any
way to either protest or defend themselves...whether against the
government or the gangs, which are just extensions of local governments
these days. Then the street gangs pretty much run wild---except for some
cosmetic prosecutions--and that creates even more danger to normal
people. That in turn creates more demand for more cops and more
government and more block committees to supposedly protect us. When
amplified by the mainstream media, it's a vicious circle.
Bennett took a drink from his mug. Thomas paused, sipping again
from his mug of beer, motioning to the waitress for another. "You know
as well as I do that the BC's are there to keep an eye on everyone, so
government can expand its power all the way around. They tell us 'the
public demands it', when the real function of the block committees is
the same as in any dictatorship: to make sure no real opposition can
form up. With everyone watching everyone else, there's no way in hell
people can stop the slide into oppression...or the dictatorship that's
sure to follow."
Thomas shook his head. "It's not their country Frank," he said
in a soft voice, almost as if pleading with his friend. "It's ours. It
belongs to everyone who makes their own way, in whatever way they want
to, from the engineers and doctors to the shopkeepers and working
stiffs, to the pimps and whores and poets and artists and dope sellers
and ditchdiggers. As long as you don't live on the back of someone
else...that's the original promise of this country. And even though the
promise originally didn't pan out for us black and brown types, it was
starting to...it was happening for us all before they decided to screw
everyone equally---black, tan, red, brown, yellow or white."
Bennett shook his head slowly. "What's happening to us?"
"We're getting half drunk," Thomas answered, gesturing boozily
at the beer mugs.
"No dammit," Bennett slurred back. "I mean us the people. The
country. Our system."
"Oh, that," said Rick Thomas. "Hell, isn't it clear? Our damn
educational structure broke down in the late 20th century. Never got
fixed." He paused, peered pointedly across at Frank Bennett. "People
started being taught not to think independently, they were taught that
certain ideas were out of bounds. And in time the entire system tends to
run down as the bad ideas take hold, and any competing ideas are
forcibly stifled. The thing is, you can't stifle the competing ideas
Thomas's lecture was interrupted by a commotion at the front of
the tavern. A man who looked like a construction worker at the end of a
workday was raising his voice at three young males who stood around him
as he sat at the bar. All of the three wore blue plastic armbands of
BC's, and had BC cell-phones clipped to military-style belts.
"Don't give us any shit, man," said one of the men, raising his
voice at the construction worker. "You pull out your ID! Now!"
Frank Bennett and Rick Thomas watched the developing
confrontation at the front of the bar, then looked at each other. As
one, a thought struck them, and they grinned together. Bennett leaned
over across the table to Rick Thomas: "Strike a blow for competing
ideas?" he said softly.
Thomas held a big grin and nodded his head. They slid out of the
booth and strolled casually to the front of the small tavern with
exaggerated crafty movements. The block committee members saw them
coming, and smirked; here were two half-drunk working slobs. One of the
men turned, jabbing Rick Thomas in the chest with a fiberglass
truncheon, stopping him. "You two aren't going anywhere. You're next.
Pull out your ID. We're checking everyone in the area."
Thomas grinned and responded in a loud voice with a distinct
slur. "Why don't you blow me, asshole." He grabbed the BC's club,
pulling him forward while simultaneously launching a sidekick which
landed on the BC's chest, knocking him head over heels. Instantly the
entire bar erupted into a comedic brawl. One of the other BC's brought a
club up to strike Rick Thomas, but Frank Bennett grabbed it,
simultaneously aiming a drunken kick at another of the three, who
promptly doubled over, howling and holding his groin.
Bennett yelled, yanking the police baton away and waving it over
his head like a drum major's baton as Rick Thomas head-butted the BC in
front of him who stumbled back, stunned. In the meantime, the
construction worker had jumped off his chair and picked up a seat
adjacent to his, swinging it up and over his head to come crashing down
on the single remaining. As the first BC that Rick Thomas had kicked
jumped up, Frank Bennett slipped on the beer-slicked floor and half
fell, wrapping his arms around the terrified BC's waist while Thomas
grabbed the guy in a head lock, more to stay on his feet than to do any
harm. The BC slugged Thomas in the stomach, whereupon Thomas violently
threw up all over the two BC's still sprawled on the floor.
"Uuuggggghhhh!" yelled Bennett, sweeping the BC's feet out from
under him, while Thomas stumbled toward the tavern door, following the
construction worker who was already making a rapid exit. The last BC
fell on top of his vomit-covered fellows, impelled by a quick shove from
Bennett who hurried toward the door behind Thomas, yelling "taxi, taxi,
committee creeps need a taxi!" all the way into the darkness of the
night. The two hurriedly floundered around a corner, where they found
Rick's taxi. They tried to stuff themselves in the driver's door at the
same time, and Bennett finally found himself shoved to the passenger
side, his feet resting on the steering wheel and sticking into the face
of Rick Thomas, who was howling with laughter as he fired up the
familiar yellow vehicle and squealed around a corner in the dark. The
sound of drunken laughter drifted back over the snarl of the taxi motor
as they sped off into the darkness.
After that incident, local block committee volunteers tended to
avoid that particular tavern. The bar owner told them he'd never seen
the three troublemakers before, even though he had occasionally had a
beer himsefl with the personable young scientist and the erudite taxi
driver. What could he say? Bennett and Thomas were okay in his book:
they paid for their beer, tipped the waitress, and didn't try to grab
her ass. Besides, nobody liked the block creeps. Let'em go stick their
noses into somebody else's business, he reasoned.
The next time Bennett and Thomas came by for a beer, the
bartender gave them his thoughts about the block committees, along with
a free pitcher of beer. They agreed with his analysis, saying that it
certainly sounded reasonable to them.
More than reasonable, in fact.
/(to be continued)/
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