April 2008

five
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on in the coming months as well as some other additions. We hope you enjoy number 5.

Thanks for reading,

-jimmy

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 Contents April 2008 • Number 5

Features
Travelogue .............................. 5
Derek Holt

Keep the Revolution Going... 13

Mark Stevens

Three Walls ......................... 15

Adam Chase

Moving Out .......................... 17

Jimmy Flaherty

Ghost Bikes .......................... 20

GhostBikes.org

Columns
About Tyranny................................ 3
Jimmy Flaherty

Intellectual Property ...................... 11

Jimmy Flaherty

From the Road .......................... 19

David Brooks

Anarchy in Your Head ....... 19

Dale Everett

Standard
Classifieds ..................... 22

Barn | David Brooks

About Tyranny
Jimmy Flaherty
I just wanted to offer a short synopsis to a
discussion I had with another individual
regarding “Baby Steps to Tyranny” (March
2008 – Number 4) and some associated
information.
For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call this
person “Bob.” Bob and I were simply
discussing the topics covered in the article
and Bob was not even disputing anything
I had written or referenced in the article,
not even the idea that the United States
government is so far gone that it is beyond
repair. Bob, was simply explaining that
he didn’t have an interest, or time for that
matter, in learning about all the fucked up
things the government currently does, let
alone the things they are legislating. This
amazingly, is the case with most
Americans.
Well, since the article made reference to
Nazi Germany, I’ll stick with it because
apparently the Jews under Nazi Germany
didn’t have the time nor interest in learn-
ing about their government, much less
take the opportunity to stand up against
it. Wake the fuck up people! Pay attention,
get involved and stand up for your liber-
ties. There ARE concentration camps in the
United States of America. I’m not making
reference to prisons or anything of that
nature. I’m referring to real concentra-
tion camps. Swaths of land, fenced in,
built to house dissidents, immigrants and
“terrorists.” There ARE railroad cars fitted
with shackles to transport said dissidents,
immigrants and terrorists. All this funded
by your loving United States government
and produced under contract by private
companies to handle “an influx of immi-
gration and detention of domestic
03 LattitudeZine.com
terrorists.” Let’s forget immigration for
a second and just consider that “tyranny,”
a word often overused as political hyper-
bole, most certainly applies to a govern-
ment that has the power - and which uses
that power - to imprison its own citizens
indefinitely without having to prove that
they committed a crime. Having a presi-
dent posses the unchecked power to order
the indefinite imprisonment of American
citizens without recourse simply is the
surest sign that the government is acting
tyrannically. If that isn’t definitive proof of
tyranny, what is?
We are not talking about modern or even
exotic liberties here. The right not to be
imprisoned in the absence of due process
is a right that was not just recognized
upon the founding of this country, but was
one of the first liberties established by 13th
Century England when British subjects
rejected the notion that the King had ab-
solute, unlimited powers and forced King
John to accept the Magna Carta. That 13th
Century liberty is what has been abrogated
by this Administration. And if you think
Barak Obama is going to sit down in the
Oval Office and repeal all the ridiculous
shit set in place over the last 60 years you
have been grossly misinformed. Inside
the system is NOT the answer. Representa-
tive democracy does not work. You cannot
expect 500 millionaires to make good
choices for the way 300 million citizens
should live their lives.
At any rate – back to my point… If you
are a dissident, let alone an immigrant
without out your paperwork in satisfactory
order, you can be plucked off the street, or
worse, out of your own home. From there,
your elected officials have the option to
ship you off to a number of detention
facilities to be held indefinitely and with
no recourse as well as being subject to a
military tribunal to which you will receive
no counsel and likely not even be allowed
to defend yourself. I could easily be sub-
ject to such a fate. My crime? Writing and
publishing these words.
This is the government that you are too
busy to worry about or take interest in.
The American populace needs to straight-
en out their priorities TODAY. It is obvious
that it impossible to posses both ignorance
and freedom at the same time. Before you
know it, it’s going to be too late to make
a difference and you’ll never know when
or even what happened. As the title of the
article stated – Baby Steps. If I pluck one
hair off your head today, it hurts a little
but no big deal. Another tomorrow, about
the same. One morning you take a look
in the mirror and you’re bald. The whole
process was so slow and deliberate you
never even noticed when it got so bad.
Understand?
Contact the writer:
jimmy@lattitudezine.com
April 2008 • LATT!TUDE
Travelogue
words & photos
Derek Holt
Reims
• Part 2
It was only an hour’s drive
in the car to Reims with Vincent. He played me some
of his band’s music, which was just him plucking on
the guitar and his friend crooning freakishly into the
mic. It sounded very French. By the time we made
it to Reims, it was raining, and again I noticed how
that wet golden sheen covered the night street.
We waited a while for Rebecca and her friends to
come let us into her friend’s apartment.
Rebecca’s friend was Sarah, a Scot, and she was
willing to put me up that night in her loft – very
kind of her. Her apartment overlooked downtown
Reims and caught the back of the Reims cathedral
beautifully. The plan was to stay there with her that
night, catch a train the next morning to Lourdes in
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the south of France while she kept watch over my
luggage, and to come back after a few days to see
what I could of Reims before going to Paris. A fine
plan, to be sure, only the bomb was dropped after
just a few minutes in Reims, when Vincent told me a
nationwide train strike had begun that very evening,
and there was no telling how long it would last.
That complicated things, to say the least. With no
idea where I would be staying in twenty-four hours, I
had to go online and figure a few things out. Sarah
was again very kind and offered me her place as
long as I needed it, which I gladly accepted. I was
quickly realizing how thin my pocketbook was get-
ting. After some thought, I decided instead of trying
to finagle my way to the sound of France without
a train, I would cancel my plans and simply stay a
few days longer in Reims. This ended up being the
only option really, as the train strike lasted well into
the next week and beyond, with only the occasional
very-packed train to Paris.
The next morning was bright and it looked warm
outside. The sun was beaming in the windows and it
was easy to wake up and see it stretching over the
hardwood floors.
I knew I had to get out and make use of the time
I had, but since I hadn’t planned on being there in
the first place, I was clueless. Even looking back
at it now, the mass of days spent in such a small
town smears in my recollection of it. After just a
few days, sites and attractions were beginning to
replay themselves. Reims is a small town with a few
very prominent sites but little else. Even the friends
I was making there had little more to show me than
the big attractions. One that really draws flocks of
tourists is the Reims cathedral – massive, beauti-
ful and very statuaried. They say this cathedral has
more statues than any other in Europe, and most
tourists passing through Reims know only to see it.
Of course, once they are there, they find there are
several other nice things to see, including several
Travelogue (continued)
other nice cathedrals, the Museum of Fine Arts, the
Planetarium, the old-timer car museum, the Musee
du Vieux Reims, and lots and lots of pâtisseries, all
or most of which I visited in my time there, or at
least tried before realizing just about
everything was closed just about all
the time. Hence I spent most my
days there on the streets or in the
ancient churches.
While the Reims Cathe-
dral (they call it the Notre
Dame) is what everyone
knows ahead of time,
there rests in Reims
another church to
rival the cathedral
– that is, St. Remi’s
Basilica. After spend-
ing a lot of time in
both churches (I sat
down and wrote a
letter in St. Re-
mi’s, even), I honestly
think St. Remi’s left a stronger
impression on me. Part of it was the distinct
emphasis the art in the church gave to Church and
State and the obvious acceptance that the two were
to be intertwined. On one side of the altar you see
Bishops, on the other side Kings. This makes sense
when you learn the very patron of the church and the
city of Reims, St. Remi, had baptized Clovis, the king
of the Franks, way back in 496 AD (on Christmas at
that). That a mighty king would submit to a bishop
of a religion that had only recently found favor in the
eyes of the state surely signified that something new
and powerful was afoot, and it’s easy to see how
people gradually came to accept the dual headship
of church and state, even if many of us 1500 years
later believe this was ultimately a bad turn.
In my time there, Reims was a temporary home for
me. Through Rebecca I was able to make actual
friends, who kept a roof over my head and were
company to me during all those mislaid hours. I
realize now there was purpose in my being in
Reims so long. Indeed, it was made plain to
me even while I was there, meet-
ing various folks, and
in particular, a
kid from Orange
County, Califor-
nia of all places.
As soon as I met
this guy, I knew I
was in for something
altogether different,
and it became clear as
the days went on that I
was to be both blessed
and haunted by this char-
acter, often simultaneously.
I saw that while opening my
arms to welcome it, I’d also
need to grit my teeth.
Paris
After that unplanned week in Reims,
I was finally headed for Paris, my last stop before
heading back across the great waters. Brennan,
the OC kid, was also on his way home from study-
ing at the Lycee in Reims. I had already spent three
days straight with him, and just as I thought it was
time to say farewell to each other, he got a call
from his grandfather suggesting he travel to Paris
with me and find a room, as he and I were flying
home to the U.S. the same day. His grandfather
thought it would be a good opportunity for him to
spend a little more time in Paris before heading
home. Personally, I never would have considered
that – Brennan had acted as my human shadow
every second of the last week, and I had hoped to
April 2008 • LATT!TUDE
Travelogue (continued)
spend my last days in Europe on my own just to
collect my thoughts and maximize my time there.
By this time, however, I had learned not to balk
when things fell into place with Brennan. As much
as the kid grated on my nerves, I realized there
was something bigger happening between us than
I could fully comprehend or foresee. A little bit
reluctantly, I agreed to the idea, but knew I
wouldn’t regret it.
With the strike still going full-steam, we couldn’t be
too picky about our train times to Paris. The fast
trains in France are nothing to joke about. We were
able to catch a morning train and the entire trip
only took about 45 minutes. The trains run up to
about 200 mph and sometimes you really have to
cling to your armrest.
As I’d expected, having Brennan along was bitter-
sweet. A definite boon was simply his fluency in
French. I realized while in France that the locals
just aren’t as proficient in English as you’d hope
they’d be. In fact, I’d say they’re about as ignorant
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of English as Americans are of French. I found that
in most places I went I was more likely to find a Ger-
man-speaker than a Frenchman who felt they could
assist me in English, even at places like the airport
and train stations, where you’d think enough tourists
pass through to warrant a working knowledge of the
language. On the other hand, a downside to his tag-
ging along was simply that he had already been to
Paris several times, so his curiosity of the city was
mostly dulled. He comes from a wealthy family and I
think I remember him saying that they make at least
one vacation to France a year. So when we did get
to the city, Brennan’s idea of a good Parisian time
was simply to go to the places he had familial ties
to, namely the Eiffel Tower.
My 3+ days in Paris were good, but were probably
the worst of the trip as far as site-seeing goes. Due
to the train strike, it took an exceptionally long time
to get anywhere, as the subways were running only
about one every 15-30 minutes. When one did come,
you were very lucky to get on, as they were filled to
the crushing point. This meant people in Paris were
more willing to drive their cars, which made for a
madhouse above ground.
As for our first day in Paris, it came to a crashing
halt half-way through in a hostel bed, after the tumult
of getting from Sarah’s apartment with all my lug-
gage in tow to the train station, on the right train,
then lugging it around, up and down stairs in the
fancy Paris train depot without escalators, turning
right around and heading back up and down those
same stairs after an official told us there was no way
we were going to fit ourselves and our luggage on
those packed metros. Up top there long lines of folk
waiting for taxis. By this point I was desperate to get
to the hostel I’d reserved for myself before my room
was forfeit. Brennan wasn’t too keen on the idea of
the hostel, but he was too anxious about staying on
his own somewhere.
Travelogue (continued)
That was something peculiar about Brennan. Here
was this 18 year-old, come to France to study a
whole year at the Lycee – he was headed home
8 months early for trouble making – who couldn’t
stand the thought of being left alone at any moment
of our entire week together. Both in Reims – where
he’d already lived a couple months – and in Paris, he
was too terrified to go off on his own to do some-
thing he liked, sleep in a separate room, or stay the
night with strangers in the hostels. This didn’t stop
him of course from ridiculing any of the hostels we
stayed in for any of their less-than-four star accom-
modations. I suppose when you’re used to staying
in high class hotels with your parents’ and grandfa-
ther’s pocketbook at hand, you don’t really learn to
work out things on your own or tolerate anything
less than luxury.
That first day, rest from heavy lifting was a require-
ment. We slept off the pain for a couple hours, and
by the time we headed out, night had fallen in Paris.
Since riding the trains was out of the question, we
spent most of that night walking down the wide bou-
levard along the Seine. With the Eiffel Tower as our
North Star, and crossed through a serpentine tun-
nel full of traffic to reach the halfway point at the
Notre Dame. Like the cathedral of the same name
in Reims, this building was full of statues from head
to toe. How unfortunate that it was already locked
down for the evening! But this didn’t keep tourists
like us from examining the face of every sculpture
lining the façade.
We hit the beaten path again, and after another
2 hours of walking, we made it finally to the Eiffel
Tower. Aside from the soles of my aching feet, the
walk along the Seine was filled with beautiful evening
sights and a lot of good conversation with Brennan.
As we neared the tower, we stopped to take pic-
tures. We stood a while at the foot of the tower,
craning our necks to catch as much of the instru-
ment as we could. I’d never realized just how mas-
sive the tower really is. I’d seen only duplicates here
and there across the US, mostly at King’s Island
when I was a kid. As large as that copy loomed in
my child’s mind, the real thing broke the sense of
it to pieces. The impression it left on me was only
illuminated (somewhat literally) as the entire tower
at night was lit up with golden lights, and at points
in the evening, a complex system of blinking lights
set the tower a’sparkling.
Once we had worn out our neck muscles, we
walked a short distance to the Champ du Mars,
a famous little restaurant with a view of the tower.
Brennan would come here often with his family, and
was his first pick of all the choices we had open to
us. I had some delicious French onion soup with
some serious cheese melted and sopping in it,
along with a kind of hamburger.
Frustration set in on the second day. I was pretty
eager to see some things I knew Brennan had no
interest in seeing, including a few museums. We
agreed first to go to the cemetery where Jim Mor-
rison is buried. We walked most of the way there in
a drizzle, and debated some issues like abortion,
which, while I thought a healthy debate, didn’t ex-
actly set the tone for a relaxing day. The cemetery
itself was impressive, and was filled with sculptures
of the rich and famous deceased. Morrison’s own
grave was very small, and I think the cemetery se-
curity guards have a hard time seeing why so many
flock to see this tiny tombstone for an American,
April 2008 • LATT!TUDE
Travelogue (continued)
when there are massive mausoleums for the Great
French to gaze upon instead.
Brennan was insistent that we see the Eiffel Tower
again this second day. I conceded since I hadn’t ac-
tually seen it in the daylight, or what you could call
daylight in that rainy haze, but I was already eager
to visit the Musée d’Orsay. This time we were able
to catch a train most of the way to the tower, and
after a while beneath it’s bowing steel with lemon
crépes in both hands, I said it was time to take in
a museum or two. Brennan didn’t feel like going,
but neither was he competent to head home on
his own. Ignoring the pickle staring me in the face,
I started down that massive boulevard once again
back toward the Notre Dame and the Musée. We
reached a midpoint, about a five-minute walk to a
train that led straight to our hostel, only Brennan
couldn’t make up his mind. He really didn’t want
to go to the museum, but he really didn’t want to
be alone in the big city, either, even with ample
mappage in hand. After deliberating for about 20
minutes, he decided he would go with me. I knew
this was a bad idea, but by this point I could see
there was no way I was going to get him to go
home alone.
Perhaps the one appeal the Musée d’Orsay held
for Brennan was the statuary out front, which he
remembered taking pictures in front of as a child
with his family.
But his joy finding the statues of his youth only
heated my anger at finding that the museum had
closed its doors to visits not 20 minutes before.
That 20 minutes of waffling on where Brennan
would go ended up costing me my day’s ambition,
and I was not to be consoled. I was downright sour,
thinking all there was left to do was walk back to
the underground and ride home in silence, ignoring
Brennan’s OMGs and constant references to the
hotness of this or that passerby. We walked an-
other 20 minutes back to that point of Brennan’s
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original crisis to take the underground back home,
only to find the train officials closing the station
gates. Apparently, they were shutting down the
line completely due to the strike. What eventually
ensued was a trek across town to one of the only
open stations, a so-packed-you-could-smell-your-
neighbor’s-mousse train ride home, and a gradual
calming down on my end.
Our third and last day started out bright, and Bren-
nan had in mind to show me something else nice
– the Sacré Coeur basilica – which offered an amaz-
ing view of the city. The building itself is fantastic.
Though it may sound awful fanboy, I was reminded
of the “White City” in Return of the King, both book
and film. Brennan and I went inside and walked with
the crowd around the outer perimeter of the sanctu-
ary. Above in the center there’s a massive mosaic
of the victorious Christ, which I was dying to photo-
graph, only there were rules against it. Shorn of my
camera, I wanted to maximize my time there and
escape the merry-go-round of tourists on the out-
skirts. The middle section was reserved for prayers,
and they kept pretty tight watch on what people
were doing while in the inner ring. Thinking a small
prayer might do me good, I went into the ring and
sat down. Having no use for prayers, but also des-
perately scared of solitude, Brennan also entered
the ring, and, having sat down, promptly put his
feet on the seat in front of him, brought out his cell
phone and started to text his friends back home.
This bit of impudence brought the ward’s hammer
in no time, and in seconds Brennan was already in
trouble again. The thought of sitting along outside
the ring was enough for Brennan to put away his cell
and bring down his feet, though he had a few choice
words for the ward once he was gone. Somehow I
just felt old listening to Brennan curse the man doing
his job, and even more so as I chided my man-child
friend for his disregard of people’s prayers, much
less a religion’s attempt to remain viable in the face
of thousands of gawking tourists.
Travelogue (continued)
We left the Sacred Heart to grab a bite to eat. Lunch
was in a small, classy cafe, where we had mediocre
french onion soup, but some very tasty french fries,
as well. We headed back up the steep stair which led
to the alleys behind the Sacré Coeur. This must have
been the coolest little area of Paris I was privy to
see. Brennan was dead-set on finding Le Consulat, a
cafe his grandfather had a painting of, and after all
the missed tries in the hour or more we searched for
it, I was glad we had done so by the end of it.
The sun was getting low in the sky as we came down
finally and began our way to what would be our final
major Paris attraction: the red-light district, full of
nudie-bars and their employees trying to woo us in
their direction. We didn’t fall for it, and couldn’t have
afforded it even if we had. We were mostly inter-
ested in seeing the Moulin Rouge, at least from the
outside, since to get in would’ve cost at least 200
euro. We happened also upon that famous dark cat,
the Chat Noir cafe, which I now realize we should’ve
gone into had a cup of tea or something.
While there’s plenty more I could write about my
time in France, not to mention my time and talks
with Brennan, I won’t. Our last night was filled with
discussion on mostly the theme of teenage heart-
ache and fear. And I mean the entire night, as in we
did not sleep a wink before the shuttle came to take
us to the airport at six the next morning. We were
both cranky for lack of sleep, and our final good
byes were a little short in light of it, I think. Still, I
was thankful for my time in France and with Brennan,
who not only helped me get around and supplied
me with ample opportunity to resist the temptation
to curse, but also offered me an outlet for a lot of
thoughts I was having about my impending return
– a long time coming in itself – and an inlet into an
American culture I was hardly familiar beforehand,
and could hardly believe it existed even after I’d
stared it hard in the face.
Derek Holt currently lives in Louisville, KY. Part 1
of his story was published in Lattitude number 4,
March 2008. email him: Derek.Holt@gmail.com
Visit lattitudezine.com/derek for more photos
from Derek’s travels or read this story in its
entirety.
April 2008 • LATT!TUDE
 Intellectual Property
We are taught from childhood that nothing
is new, everything is imitation. Yet some-
how, we participate with, encourage and
even support copyright laws, trademark
agreements, reserved rights and even
patents. Suggesting that any single idea
was somehow originated by an individual
person is a gross oversimplification of
our world around us. We humans are not
isolated entities. None of us would be what
we are if it were not for those around us,
and those before that effected those who
in turn have effected us. Make sense? We
represent our experiences and memories
that have been configured by the civiliza-
tion in which we have lived.
This, in no way, is to imply that originality
is impossible; to the contrary, unoriginal-
ity is the only impossibility. Every chord
strummed, every word written is relayed
from an individual position of human ex-
pression. However, what so many will pre-
fer to call plagiarism is actually a necessity
to all communication. Given that every
expression is both imitated and original, it
has to be considered absurd to render one
moral, and the other criminal.
In this time of digital media, items such as
written or spoken word, music and art,
much less relayed ideas, can be taken in,
reworked, reproduced or redistributed in
a matter of minutes. To offer an item into
the public arena, for private use only, is
not only absolutely ludicrous, but short
sighted and insanely avaricious. There is
nothing wrong with making a profit from
my efforts, but to declare the right to
regulate how a person is to use their own
11 LattitudeZine.com
Jimmy Flaherty
private property after they have afforded
me that profit is simply unacceptable. The
same especially goes to items offered to the
public for free or even without their con-
sent. By this I am referring to items such as
this publication, advertising and especially
billboards. I am berated with slogans, logos
and images that I never approved of or
even requested. Should I not be able to take
these words or images and re-appropriate
them as best I see fit? Should I set a cooler
of water in the “public” park on a hot sum-
mer day and expect it not be drunk?
Even considering the revolutionary
licensing of Creative Commons, an
individual is still releasing their works to
the public with the idea that the work is
theirs alone, in and of itself. As if noth-
ing contributed itself to this artists work,
as if there were no outside inspiration or
reference. Even Pablo Picasso is quoted in
stating that “Bad artists copy. Good artists
steal.” The ego’s we have, believing that
we alone have created such a work under
no influence of outside forces that another
human will surely copy our greatness if we
are not to protect it under the state’s
so-called law. Outrageous!
It is time for the authors and artists to put
their egos down and embrace the world
around them. We should accept the com-
munity of others wishing to participate
on any avenue of creative expression and
encourage everyone to use whatever they
can to get their message out to the public.
Even if relaying that message consists of
reproducing your own work word for word,
brush for brush. When it is presented by a
different individual to a different audience
it has a different meaning and conveys a
different message. How is that immoral?
How is that a crime?
The only crime I see is putting oneself on
a pedestal towering over others, looking
down upon everyone else as if you are the
creator and they the audience. In this
society, where everything is designed to
be a spectacle, we are all both and what
happens around the world everyday, in
essence created by all those involved in
society, is our inspiration. Considering
society and an artist’s civilization, be them
local interaction or world events are
essentially the inspiration, then an artists
work should belong to all those in society
to do with what they please. After all, if it
weren’t for that inspiration then the artist
would have never created.
A lot of people just feel Jimmy Flaherty is out
of his damn mind. You can contact him at:
jimmy@lattitudezine.com
April 2008 • LATT!TUDE
 Mark Stevens

“I do not ask that you place your hands upon the tyrant to topple him over, but merely
that you support him no longer, then you will behold him, like a great colossus whose
pedestal has been pulled away, fall of his own weight and break into pieces.”
- Etienne de la Boetie, Discourse on Voluntary Servitude

If the Ron Paul revolution is really about the
message of freedom, freedom of each
individual man and woman, then let’s keep
the momentum going and start doing
things that will really bring that about.
By now it’s clear; a candidate who may
have been able to decrease the force used
by the “United States government” against
us, is not going to be the nominee. You can
debate the reasons why all day; that will
not diminish the restraints on our liberty
one bit.
Voting in political elections has never
brought about a decrease in the size and
scope of governments. All it does is con-
tinue to provide government with a veil of
legitimacy. What about NOT voting though?
All governments rely on the support
of their victims (euphemistically called
“Citizens”) to be able to continue killing,
stealing and lying as usual. In places like
the United States, it’s a generally held
belief that governments, i.e., men and
women providing services on a compulsory
basis, do so by consent. One way this idea
is created and maintained is by having
political elections. Remember, there is no
choice as to whether you want to pay for
their services or not, just a false “choice” in
who is allegedly in charge of the men and
women providing the service.
If you want a real change, then this idea of
consent must be stripped away so those
acting as government are seen for exactly
what they are: men and women unable
or unwilling to bring their services to the
market on a voluntary basis like normal
people. This idea of consent is the problem,
not George Bush, Hillary Clinton or some
other “leader.” This idea, held by enough
people, is what allows such people to do
and get away with the destruction of our
freedom.
Libertarians and voluntaryists have long
known voting is a powerful too to convince
people of the lie governments exists by
consent. That’s a pretty thick root; let’s
start hacking away. By not voting, one of
the most powerful tools of government is
taken away.
On my radio show The No State Project on
February 9, 2008, I introduced my idea of
keeping the momentum of the Ron Paul
revolution going, and doing a voter bomb,

13 LattitudeZine.com
or a non-voter bomb as suggested by my
guest, fellow voluntaryist Alex Knight III, a
contributor to StrikeTheRoot.com.
The idea is to campaign, using the internet,
radio, signs etc., for Ron Paul supporters
and other freedom minded people to de-
mand to be taken off the voter registration
records with their “state” elections bureau.
To send a clear message: we’re fed up and
not participating anymore; we’re taking
steps to be free and we’re not asking for
permission.
We’ll give them an “Election Day” they’ll
remember. A symbolic day such as 9/11,
prior to the “elections” on November 4,
2008; everyone mails their demand letter to
the appropriate officials the same day. The
message will have more impact if handled
by a private company instead of the post
office. The letters could be delivered in
custom Non-voter bomb envelopes.
Here in the United States, there’s no “law”
making voting compulsory; so there’s no
worry you may be imprisoned or fined. The
risk factor is zero for this act of non-partici-
pation.
Freedom is ours for the taking; it will come
through non-violent non-cooperation; not
through the political process. The political
process, such as voting, only strengthens
the twisted root of tyranny. Refusing to
participate in the political process takes
away the deception governments exist by
consent, that’s hacking away at the root and
is the only thing that brings us close to a
free, voluntary society.
For more information, tune in to my radio
show, The No State Project, live every
Saturday from 5-7 pm est, 2-4 pm pst, on the
We the People Radio Network. You can join
the show by calling (888) 202-1984 and (512)
646-1984

There’s no precedent I’m aware of; so let’s

make history. An ongoing campaign to get
as many people off the voter roles as pos-
sible. I’ll have a template available for free
on my website, all people have to do is fill
in their name and the mailing address of Mark Stevens is the author of Adventures in Legal
the local election officials. Land and the host of the No State Project on the
We the People Radio Network.

“But to tear down a factory or to revolt against a government or to avoid repairs of a

motorcycle because it is a system is to attack effects rather than causes; and as long as
the attack is upon effects only, no change is possible. The true system, the real sys-
tem, is our present construction of systematic thought itself, rationality itself, and if
a factory is torn down but the rationality which produced it is left standing, then that
rationality will simply produce another factory. If a revolution destroys a systematic
government, but the systematic patterns of thought that produced that government are
left intact, then those patterns will repeat themselves in the succeeding government.”
- Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

April 2008 • LATT!TUDE 14

This Place Sucks! - lets move to New
Hampshire and push for secession! Or, not.
This is where compromise sets in which is
always a factor in any successful relation-
ship and having a family. It’s not just my
move, we’re a family and this affects all of
us.
As is obvious to anyone that has read
anything I’ve written in Lattitude or any
other publication – I despise government.
As well, I am perplexed by anyone else that
does not. Anybody that likes to de-
cide what they’ll eat
for dinner of all
things, should
15 LattitudeZine.com
understand it’s that precise idea of simply
deciding that I’m after. It also seems pain-
fully obvious that the current system that
we’re being forced to abide by, took off
down that slippery slope long ago. I’m talk-
ing about individual liberty, people!
At any rate, I have begun a massive project
of enticement to encourage my lovely
consort to pack up the house, the kids and
the dog, resettle in New Hampshire, and
join the ranks of the Free State Project.
New England, the top half at least, is on
top of this idea of secession. Not only
does New Hampshire have the Free State
Project, which I signed onto a couple years
back, but Vermont has it’s Second Vermont
Republic and Maine seems to have an
ongoing personality conflict within itself
as residents just aren’t sure what the hell
to do, but secession in one form or another
is a constant topic in that area as well. I
can’t even imagine what
it would be like to be
around such a large
number of people
that I could
discuss these
ideas with
rationally, let
alone have
them agree
with me.

Milady’s biggest problem, understandably
so, is that she does not want to move 1,000
miles away from her family. Taking this
into account, I will be factoring in prox-
imity to major airports in resettlement
possibilities, as I am assuming she would
be making trips back and forth rather
frequently – given I can get her up there in
the first place. This of course, increases our
cost of living and on down the ladder. It’s
quite the spreadsheet I’m working on here.
Maybe I can sell all the demographic infor-
mation I’m collecting to some marketing
firm once it’s all said and done.
Desiring a move to New Hampshire is in no
way a dig on my beloved Louisville. Really,
there is no place I love so much as Louis-
ville, KY. It is simply a desire for freedom.
A desire, to have the authority to make my
own decisions on how to live my life. To
some these are radical ideas. “Abolish the
State? That will lead to anarchy!” Well yes,
or at least libertarianism. But, by anarchist
definition you would be correct. By an
anarchist definition, anarchy is simply the
absence of government. Something the
libertarians behind this movement are all
about. Such a condition is going to provide
us the opportunity of amazing personal
autonomy. You, would be able to choose
the best way to live your own life. It’s the
status quo stigma attached to the word
“anarchy” that is so scary.
That chaotic free for all you see in the
movies. That’s not anarchy, that’s a riot.
And before you start thinking it, I would
be willing to bet my own life that this
would NOT lead to everyone running
around playing pirate, raping and pillag-
ing suburban America. That after all, is
the governments job. People are inher-
ently good and want to get along with one
another. Have you ever even considered
that? And of course you need to factor in
that there are always going to be societal
taboos if you will. Anyway, who better to
make decisions about day to day life than
those directly affected by the rewards and
consequences of those decisions?
If this (real freedom), is something that
interests you, and I can’t imagine it doesn’t
given you have a rational thought in your
head, then I urge your to look into the
Free State Project. If New Hampshire isn’t
you’re thing, there are so many other like
minded programs around the country,
but the more people concentrate on one
single project, the better chance it has of
success. The Free State Project is the most
appealing to me for a number of reasons
and I’m sure you could find just as many
if not more reasons to get active and make
a move.
Contact the writer:
jimmy@lattitudezine.com
April 2008 • LATT!TUDE 16
 Adam Chase
This is no way to spend a life; boxed in on 3
sides, back to the world, under the disgust-
ing glow of fluorescent tubes. Assisted by
bad coffee, toxic “snacks” and sheep people,
it’s no wonder office life is the subject of so
much comedy. However, I have to refer to it
more as gallows humor. The only sense of
the natural world I get in this windowless
hell is the breeze from the central heating
and cooling – and it NEVER shuts off. In
the winter, it’s always hot, in the summer,
always cold. When did this become normal?
Humans aspire for this life. They forge a
path to the corner office. As far as I see it,
a noose is a noose, regardless of which way
it hangs around your neck. Today, mine
is a shimmering blue blob of despair. Tat-
toos covered by the requisite long sleeved
button up, khaki pants and out of futile
resistance to an absurd dress code, all black,
old school Vans to compliment my busi-
ness casual
ensemble.
My Chucks were banned outright.
It’s a different life inside the office. People
who would normally never interact in their
daily lives are forced to tolerate one anoth-
er if they want to eat at the end of the day.
As much as I am willing to accept anyone
for the views they possess and lifestyle they
wish to lead, so many of my coworkers
simply are not.
Now I cannot even begin to list the amount
of things I dislike about the company by
which I am employed. It is a giant, repug-
nant beast which pays little regard to its
employee’s happiness or sanity. However,
17 LattitudeZine.com
there are things that go on around here, as
I am sure similar to instances in your office
community as well, that are so asinine that
it is all but impossible to be amused by
them.
Today is “Jeans Day.” Jeans day? I hate this
place… At any rate, yes, jeans day. Under
the current condition of March Madness
as it is called, everyone has their favorite
team colors that apparently, go best with
jeans. However, daddy doesn’t just allow
his employees to waltz in the doors denim
ablazin’. No, you must first donate to the
company charity fund.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for charity.
There are others out there not as fortunate
as I and that is why I help them however I
can when I come across them in the street
as well as donating from time to time to
causes I see benefiting others. I would
like to walk down there and tell them (my
bosses) to go fuck themselves, I’m fine
wearing these pants and I’ll go give $5 to
the homeless guy on the corner before I
pay their Christian based charity organiza-
tion $1 to wear fucking jeans 1 day a year.
That would feel good, but then I may end
being having to move in with that guy out
there on the corner in a month or two.
As well, I understand what they (the bosses
as they were) are doing. Allowing everyone
a “really” casual Friday as I’ll call it, affords
a bit more relaxed atmosphere which this
certainly is not, but I suppose it could help.
What it tells me is that the higher ups are
possibly, maybe remotely aware that they
are providing a less than ideal working
environment.
Being in the IT department of a fairly
good size operation where the people
traffic is nil, I have to wear formal office
attire while the only people I see on a
daily basis are the dozen or so crammed
into this bomb shelter we call a depart-
ment.
I’m confused, who are we trying to
impress here? For some reason I’m the
weirdo by thinking that happy employ-
ees provide a better product and actually
give a damn about their employers. I
don’t know one person (okay there’s
one, but he’s kinda icky) that either likes
their job here, or respects their boss.

Consider the fact that the “redo” rate

on work preformed by this organiza-
tion is pretty damn high as people just
don’t care. The company is losing large
accounts left and right as well as some
repeat work from their largest customer.

That was an amusing one. I had to travel

out of town with my boss to our big-
gest customer to explain to them what
their new online system was capable of.
Afterwards, my boss and I went to lunch
with the head yahoo from their side and
they broke the news to him on a separate
project we had been doing for them for
several years. The term “shit the bed”
comes to mind. Better still, what I got
out of it was, “run!”

Get out, while you can.

Adam Chase is an apparently disgruntled IT

Administrator from Louisville, KY.
Contact him: info@lattitudezine.com

April 2008 • LATT!TUDE 18

From the Road
David Brooks
david@monkeydrive.net
As of this writing I’m at a house in
Syracuse, NY. The basement is still ringing
from the bands playing in it tonight. Plows
,the two piece band I play guitar for is on
day 4 of our 11 day tour across the midwest
and down the east coast. It’s my second
time along this route and there are always
observations to be made.
Anarchy Boogey-Man
Dale Everett
19 LattitudeZine.com
• Gas is not cheap.
• GPS is the greatest travelling
companion ever.
• Don’t buy mix cds from people
hanging out in burger king.
• Gas station coffee is not really coffee
but hot brown water.
• 75 mph is the new 55 mph.
• Gas is not cheap.
 Ghost Bikes are small and somber
memorials for bicyclists who are
killed or hit on the street. A bicycle
is painted all white and locked to
a street sign near the crash site,
accompanied by a small plaque.
They serve as reminders of the
tragedy that took place on an other-
wise anonymous street corner, and
as quiet statements in support of
cyclists’ right to safe travel.

GhostBikes.org
April 2008 • LATT!TUDE 20
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April 2008 • LATT!TUDE 22
LATT!TUDE is a collectively written zine with content and artwork
provided by it’s community of readers. Essentially our reader base is our
staff. Lattitude is based on the anarchist principles of free will, individual
liberty and do it yourself fundamentals.
If there’s something you’d like to see in an upcoming issue, no problem,
get writing. Now, we’re well aware that everyone is not interested in writing
and they just want to read about something. Well, we’d like to help you
there too, feel free to send us suggestions and we’ll see what we can do to
provide some coverage for your beloved topic.
We welcome all content contributions regardless of political, social or
economic view points. This (zine) can be about whatever you, the reader,
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