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I was glad to learn that our local school bond, “Measure N” failed in our recent primary election. Schools seem like a lost cause to me. Really, why should taxpayers waste their money on subsidized daycare for the offspring of people who are too stupid and irresponsible to use birth control. With 7 billion+ people on the planet, I don’t think it makes sense to subsidize parenthood.
Seriously, what are the chances that anyone stupid enough to bring children into a grossly overpopulated world, in the midst of the greatest extinction event in 65 million years, at a time of unprecedented government surveillance and economic oppression, has enough brain power to participate in a meaningful way in their child’s education? No amount of school funding will ever help stupid, selfish, irresponsible people raise smart, generous pillars of the community. Besides, public school is what made their parents into the dimwitted monsters of capitalist conformity that they’ve become.
We should remember that, just like short people, who have kids solely to make themselves look taller, stupid people have kids specifically so that they will have someone dumber than them around, to make them feel smart. As long as we continue to subsidize moron and midget reproduction through taxpayer funded public schools, we’ll remain locked in a race to the bottom, both in altitude and intelligence.
What do we think we have to teach kids anyway? We should know by now that our way of life is destroying the planet, and that we have no freaking clue how to live sustainably. Children raised by wolves would have more survival skills than today’s high school graduates, but of course, there are no wolves around here anymore.
I think we should put a “wolf bond” on the ballot. If it passes, the school board will spend $10 million to reintroduce wolves into Humboldt County. Then parents could tie a pork chop around their kid’s neck, send him out to stand in the woods and tell them to wait for the school bus. Let the wolves decide who’s worth educating. Problem solved.
School bonds are such a ripoff anyway. It makes no sense to borrow money from a bank, and then have the taxpayers pay it back with interest. Taxpayers end up spending two, three or five times as much money as they get value, while bankers make a fortune from these low-risk investments.
It makes much more sense to pass a school levy. In a school levy, the taxpayers finance the schools directly and cut the bloodsucking banksters out of the equation, but thanks to Prop. 13, no one can muster the votes necessary to pass a school levy. Prop. 13 has turned California from the best state in the nation for public education into the worst.
Really, if you want decent public education, move to Mississippi or Alabama.
People come to California for the sunshine, the surf, the gay sex and the drugs, not because they want to get smarter. If we were smarter, we’d declare California an “Adults Only” state.
Think about it: Surfers don’t have the time, or sense of responsibility, to raise kids. Gay people have a foolproof method of birth control and drug addicts make terrible parents. In short, nobody in California should be having kids.
If we made California “Adults Only,” we’d never have to spend another dime on public schools. We’d never get stuck behind slow school buses that stop every 300 feet. They could sell cigarettes and candy from the same display rack, and put porno magazines out with the comic books. We could leave loaded guns, Draino and dangerous pesticides anywhere we felt like, and we wouldn’t continue to ignore homeless adults while we built more playgrounds and ball-fields for kids with no future.
Instead of listening to parents whine about their kid having to walk past a homeless adult, who might be smoking or drinking, homeless adults could report any children they see to the proper authorities, and a cop would pick up the kid and put him on a bus to Alabama. Pregnant women would still have a choice: abortion or deportation.
I am so sick of irresponsible parents thinking that they have a right to tell grown adults what they can and can’t do, because of how it will affect their children. The time to change the world is BEFORE you have kids, not after. If you didn’t want your kid to see a naked schizophrenic humping a stuffed giraffe on the sidewalk maybe you shouldn’t have gotten knocked-up in a world as crazy as this one.
If you can submit your kid to the horrors of this sick world, then your kid should also see what this sick world does to people. If you aren’t willing to do anything to make the world better for the people who are already here, then you shouldn’t bring any new people into the world, at least not until we pass the wolf bond.
Dope Yuppies Suck
The L.A. Times recently ran a story about Humboldt County and the marijuana industry here, and the story echoed a common myth about this area that really deserves some analysis. You will hear this myth often repeated on KMUD, and reflected in Kym Kemp’s blog Redheaded Blackbelt. They both do their best to disseminate propaganda for the marijuana industry, and between them they’ve done a pretty good job of putting their spin on things. After all, the marijuana industry is still a pretty secretive business, and news gathering has become a relatively passive activity these days, so it’s not surprising that this myth gets so much traction in the press, but it’s about time someone took a closer look at it.
So, here’s the myth: The people who moved to Southern Humboldt in the late 70’s and early 80’s, like to paint themselves as the “back to the land” movement. They moved here to escape Babylon, and built little cabins, grew organic veggies, made arts and crafts, and raised a family. They grew just enough marijuana to pay their taxes, support their favorite non-profit, and put a pair of used tires on their old truck.
On the other hand, the myth continues, if you moved here during the 90’s or, god forbid, this century, you’re only here for the money. It’s these “newcomers” who brought in the big diesel generators, and started these giant industrial mega-grows. It’s these “newcomers” who spill diesel fuel in the creeks, pump our rivers dry, and spread rat poison all over. It’s the “newcomers” who drive like maniacs on our roads, bring hard drugs into our community, and dump trash in the river.
You see, according to this myth, it’s only the people who’ve been here 30 years, not the people whose families have been here a hundred years, or the people whose ancestors have been here for thousands of years, who form the true “community” around here. If you’ve been here longer than them, you are a redneck, if you’ve arrived since them, you are a carpetbagger, but if you’ve been here for 30 years, no longer, and no shorter, you are part of the twelfth tribe of Israel. The myth tells us that the people who’ve been here 30 years, take impeccable care of their land, manage it wisely, and use the money they make to fight injustice all over the world. Don’t they sound like awesome people?
The truth is a very different story:
Back in the 70’s and 80’s, most of the people around here bought their land from a guy named Bob McKee. They all love Bob because he would buy large tracts of logged over timber land, dirt cheap, and then break them up into parcels small enough that pretty much anyone who wanted one could afford one.
You could never make a living logging these small parcels, and there weren’t any jobs, to speak of, anywhere in the vicinity, so this low priced land became attractive to artists, who don’t have to worry so much about their commute, but also don’t make much money. At one time Humboldt County had more artists per-capita, than any county in California. That’s why Summer Arts Fest is older than The Mateel. The artists in SoHum needed that outlet, more than they needed a place to party. That was 37 years ago.
Thirty years ago, Ronald Reagan disrupted the flow of marijuana from South America and Mexico, and very suddenly, people started buying up those cheap parcels, specifically to grow marijuana. Bob McKee got rich, and all of a sudden, almost anyone with a green thumb, and bit of chutzpah, could make a living from the privacy that these forested mountains provide.
So, these people who moved here 30 years ago, all moved here to grow pot. They bought cheap, logged over timber land, built homes with outhouses without permits, diverted streams, and grew marijuana illegally to make money. They made pretty good money growing pot, so they started buying up the parcels around them. Their drug-dealing friends in the city, who came up here for the lavish parties these folks threw, started buying parcels as well.
Some of these people were greedier than others, some of them were more competent than others, but they all partied a lot. They brought hard drugs like heroin, cocaine and meth, which have remained epidemic ever since.
They drove like maniacs, like their kids do today, and they made huge messes up in the hills. They buried piles of car batteries. They changed their oil in their driveway, letting the spent oil seep into the ground, and they abandoned thousands of vehicles all over the hillsides of Southern Humboldt, and that was just the beginning.
People who’ve owned their property since the eighties don’t really need much income anymore to cover the basics. They paid their land off decades ago, and thanks to proposition 13, many still pay less than a thousand dollars a year in property tax, at least on the parcel they actually live on.
For most of them, however, the basics were not enough. They like to party. They want to go to a dozen festivals every summer, winter in Hawaii, ride around on quads, watch movies on their big screen TVs, and if their local non-profits can pour beer, they want to support them too. You see, they just want regular “middle-class” stuff, and marijuana provides that for them, but it gets to be a chore.
Growing all of that marijuana starts to feel like work. So what do you do if you own a few parcels of land, and you want the income from all of them, but you don’t actually want to do the work of growing the marijuana? You want to hire people, but you don’t really want them show up at your place and punch a time-clock, and you really don’t want to cut them a check every week. You want them to grow pot for you, sell it, and give you the money, and you want some insulation from the risky side of the business. Here’s what you do.
You “sell” them a turnkey business. Here’s how this works. You find an up and coming drug dealer, who’s already moving a lot of weed for you. You teach him how to grow, introduce him to your clone supplier, and help him set up his generator, pump, lights and fans. You offer to “sell” him one of your SoHum parcels for a price based on the expected profits from the weed grown there in the next ten years. You draw up a land contract, and you “loan” him, the money that you expect to be payed for your share of the weed. Then you turn the operation over to him.
You see, you “sold” that parcel, that you originally traded a motorcycle for, for $250,000, to a 28 year old guy with no job, and $50,000 in small bills. There’s now a big ugly diesel scene and a giant, water sucking industrial mega-grow on it. You get all of the profits, and some drug dealing kid from the city takes all of the risk and does all of the work. He’s in possession of the land, should the cops ever raid it, so you can deny any knowledge of what goes on there, and you can legally repossess it, if he ever fails to make the payments.
Not that long ago real estate agents around here sold land, generators and lights together as a package, and advertized them in local papers. For decades now, all of the land sold around here, sells at a price based on the value of the marijuana that can be grown there, and the county happily appraises this land at the inflated prices.
So, if you moved here recently, besides paying through the nose for your land, you likely pay three times what your neighbor pays in property tax. You still can’t make a living from the timber on one of these parcels, and there are still very few jobs in the vicinity, but these parcels no longer sell at prices that artists or writers can afford. No, every parcel sells as a prime marijuana gold mine, with a price determined by how much marijuana the buyer and seller think they can pull out of it.
The people who sign those land contracts, often as not, get busted, shot to death in a drug deal gone bad, or simply fail to deliver the cash, so they lose the property, and we never see them around again. It’s a huge ripoff, and it’s just one of the ways that the people who’ve been here thirty years, feed on young people like vampires, growing ever richer, and more smug about themselves, while they destroy habitat, drive endangered species to extinction, and enslave the young.
Most of the rentals in SoHum work the same way. Landlords expect tenants to grow for them, and use the lease as legal insulation. The dope yuppies who’ve been here thirty years know how few opportunities there are for young people, and they look for desperate young people to take advantage of.
The people who’ve been here thirty years have engineered the marijuana industry here. They employ, and exploit the army of young growers, share-croppers, dealers, mules and trimmers that you see around town. They are responsible for the giant mega-grows, the water diversions, the rat poison, and all of the problems and pollution that goes along with them, and they make sure that no young people today, ever get the kind of deal that Bob McKee gave them.
Its time to legalize marijuana, and drive a stake through the heart of the dope yuppie lifestyle. Legalization would help the salmon. Legalization would help the fishers, and legalization would help everyone who likes to smoke herb, or needs it for medicine. Legalization will only hurt a small clique of people who moved here thirty years ago, got lucky, exploited the land, took advantage of people, and have gotten way too smug about it. Really, no one deserves it more.
Dirtbags, Miscreants, Undesirables and Low-Lifes pt1
I’ve heard a lot of talk about the invasion of “dirtbags”, “miscreants”, and “undesirables” in our community. I agree with a lot of this talk. I agree that this invasion has gotten out of hand. Every town can handle a few “dirtbags”, but they have overrun our small town.
This invasion has gone on far too long, and its high time we took decisive action to take back our community. These “people”, I use the term loosely here, wreck our environment, suck up our resources and tear at the very fabric of our society.
I also agree that we should do everything we can to drive these undesirables from our midst. We should make them feel unwelcome. We should insist that the Sheriff enforce every law that applies to them, punish them to the fullest extent of the law, and, if that’s not enough, we should pass draconian new laws that persecute them more directly.
I am in complete agreement with the sentiment I see expressed in our local papers, and hear around town. We should take back our community. We should drive “them” out of town. My only disagreement with the prevailing sentiment, is who exactly “them” are.
This week, part one of a two part series about “them”, the real “undesirables” and “miscreants” who suck the life out of our community. For part one, I offer this letter to the editor of The Independent, inspired by one of the letters I read there on this issue. A highly abridged version of this letter will appear in The Independent, but I thought you deserved to see it in its entirety.
I cheered and said “good riddance” the day I saw that Country Real Estate had closed their Garberville office. I had hoped that would be the last we would see or hear from George Rolff, so reading his repulsive letter in The Independent disgusted me doubly.
I am not writing to weigh in on the issue of people hanging around in Garberville and Redway. I know that the abundance of poor people around town creates a real challenge for the retail merchants in town. It really is a lot for them to deal with, and the marijuana growers in the hills should step up to the plate on this issue.
After all, kids all over America smoke Humboldt weed, listen to reggae music, and pretty soon, they start to believe in it. They say “goodbye” to Babylon, grow dreadlocks, and come here. They know that all of their money has been coming here for years, and they think that folks here have been using it to “make Babylon fall”, instead of blowing it on status symbols like oversized diesel trucks. They don’t realize that the marijuana industry is a bottomless pit of greed and indifference that wants to suck them dry.
One of arguments I hear the most, from the people who make their living from marijuana, yet oppose legalization, is that, in a legal environment, big corporations like JR Reynolds would take over the industry. RJ Reynolds spends billions of dollars funding cancer research, and medical facilities, and millions more on public art. They’ve learned that they can buy some respect, if they take some responsibility for the social problems they create. Folks around here might take a lesson from the tobacco giant when considering what facilities to include in that new community park they are all so proud of. We don’t really need another expensive “middle-class” status symbol for drug dealers around here.
But that’s not what pissed me off about George Rolff’s letter. What pissed me off about Geoge Rolff’s letter is that someone in the real estate industry had the nerve to complain about all of the poor people around town. If the marijuana industry is a bottomless pit, the real estate industry is the Grand Canyon of greed and indifference, as perfectly exemplified by Mr. Rolff’s attitude in his offensive letter.
While bankers orchestrated the housing bubble and the collapse of our economy, the real estate industry acted as their highly paid mercenary army. During those bubble years, people like George Rolff, Blake Lehman, and the rest of the real estate industry collected obscene commissions on inflated land prices. They made those deals that went bad. They appraised land at those ridiculously inflated prices. They turned housing into a luxury that only the rich could afford. They made millions of people homeless, and they got filthy rich doing it.
I saw George’s Harley, and his wife Melinda’s Mustang. They wanted everyone to know that they were doing well. Thanks to them, a lot of people in town aren’t doing very well. Personally, I find conspicuous consumption much more offensive than conspicuous poverty, and I find complaints about poor people, from people in the real estate industry particularly odious.
It is not a crime to be poor, but what the real estate industry did to our nation, our community, and our economy was a crime against the American people. It’s shameful for George Rolff to blame his victims, and to attempt to sweep them under the rug.
A Poem: Summertime in SoHum
They say this is a lovely town
Its reputation quite renowned
It’s where the hippies made a stand
When they got back to the land
Where now are these proud stout folk?
Or is this just some kind of joke?
Surely you don’t mean the dealers
Driving ’round in their four-wheelers
Maybe perhaps you mean the growers
You couldn’t set your sights much lower
They cause all of our diesel spills
And make a mess up in the hills
They drain the river for their crop
While salmon populations drop
Just so they can make a buck
Those people never gave a fuck
Or do you mean those Humboldt Hotties
So eager to show off their bodies
Perched atop their high-heel shoes
In little more than their tattoos
Somehow I don’t think they’re the segment
‘Cause by age 18 their mostly pregnant
Or do you mean the other ones
The ones who really love their guns
They love to shoot them night and day
Just to prove they are not gay
Or perhaps I am still wrong
What of the others in the throng?
Aimless drifters, shiftless thugs
Junkies all strung-out on drugs
Homeless people and their dogs
In a schizophrenic fog
If there’s anyone that I’ve left out
Please stand up now and give a shout
‘Cause I’d love to meet these rumored folks
And learn that they are not a hoax
Still this place it suits me right
Not because of, but in spite
Of the industry that’s changed the face
Of this charming little country place
The saving grace, this is no lie-ee
In winter time they’re in Hawaii
Or perhaps in Mexico
What do I care where they go
So Summertime please hurry by
I really hope that time will fly
‘Cause when again it starts to rain
These folks will all get on a plane
then I can go and buy propane
Without them driving me insane
There’s just one group that I’ve left out
The folks that I can’t live without
They’re always there in sun and rain
And do their jobs without complaint
Those are the folks who work in town
And make our little world go ’round
Vote Zombie Rodoni For 2nd District Supervisor
The Second District deserves a supervisor that reflects the earthy character of of this rural community. Zombie Rodoni has spent the last four years under the earth in Humboldt county. Zombie Rodoni’s got Humboldt County under his nails, in his hair and stuck between his teeth. Yes, Zombie Rodoni springs from the very ground he inhabits, and no one has a more intimate relationship with the grassroots in Humboldt County than Zombie Rodoni.
Remember, Zombie Rodoni didn’t vote for the draconian new “Emergency Ordinance” to stifle political dissent, oppress the poor and silence the occupy movement, like Clif Clendennen did. Zombie Rodoni would never vote for that measure. Zombie Rodoni would pick the protesters brains for a solution everyone could more or less live with.
Zombie Rodoni doesn’t work for the greedy real-estate bloodsuckers that got rich off of the housing bubble, wrecked the economy, and now want to make Humboldt County a more expensive place to live, like Estelle Fennel does. No, Zombie Rodoni knows what it is like to wander the streets day and night in relentless torment, in search of the sustenance his body craves.
Yes, Zombie Rodoni knows what its like to be homeless. Zombie Rodoni knows what its like to have mental illness. Zombie Rodoni knows what it means to have a substance abuse problem, and Zombie Rodoni knows what it is like to be dead. Who is better qualified to make those life and death decisions that effect all of us here in Humboldt County, than Zombie Rodoni? No one, I say.
Zombie Rodoni has name recognition. Zombie Rodoni has the experience, and Zombie Rodoni has a track record as one of Humboldt County’s most colorful supervisors. Now, Zombie Rodoni is back! Lets put him back where he belongs.
Before we try to decide which of these two dish sponges is the least slimy, Fennel or Clendennen, lets dig deep in the mud for the man in the black cowboy hat, and make Zombie Roger Rodoni our next 2nd District Humboldt County Supervisor.
Zombie Roger Rodoni is ready to tackle today’s challenges. This isn’t the same old Roger. His years underground have changed him. This is the new walking undead Roger Rodoni. He’s ready for action, and knows how to get things done. Asked recently, “What will you do about the General Plan Update?” Zombie Rodoni replied, “Arrgh…urgle…chomp…BRAINS!!!…gorgle….ahhhgh” as he killed and partially ate a Times Standard reporter.
When Zombie Rodoni says “Arrgh…urgle…chomp…BRAINS!!!…gorgle….ahhhgh” He means “The GPU is like a horse without a cowboy. It isn’t really going anywhere, except to the next green patch of pasture. It’s time we rode this horse around awhile.” Zombie Roger Rodoni still has that colloquial wit and charm that made him an unbeatable force in the 2nd District before his untimely death.
Zombie Rodoni has a bold new plan to get things done in Eureka this term. Dubbed the “Eat Brains Now” strategy, Zombie Roger Rodoni plans to, one by one, eat the brains of his fellow supervisors, starting with current board chairperson, Virginia Bass. Wouldn’t you pay money to see that at your county Board of Supervisors meeting? Wouldn’t that be worth the drive from Whitethorn, or wherever?
Zombie Rodoni will balance the budget. Zombie Rodoni will finish the GPU. Zombie Rodoni will eat Virginia Bass’s brain. In these troubled times, can we afford not to call upon the dark forces of the undead? At the moment that we need him most, Zombie Rodoni is here for us.
Zombie Rodoni needs your support. Support the Elect Zombie Rodoni Campaign by giving generously. Support the pro-Zombie Rodoni Super-Pac; I’d Vote For A Brain-Eating Zombie Before I’d Vote For Either Of Them, and don’t forget to write in Zombie Rodoni for 2nd District Supervisor on your ballot this June.
SoHum Vacation Guide
I know you are planning your Summer vacation right now. I live in a very tourist dependent community, and we have a lot to offer the smart vacationer here in SoHum. Whether you like to hunt, fish, hike, backpack, camp, cycle, or just sit in a hotel room between a loaded gun and a pile of cash, I want you to enjoy your stay here in SoHum and hope that you return home with many fond memories, and a trunk full of marijuana.
We love tourists here in SoHum. We love the way you take up every last parking space in Garberville. We love waiting behind your enormous RVs at the gas pumps, and we especially enjoy fishing your bloated corpses out of the ocean, because it reminds us to stay out of the water, and keeps our rescue teams well trained in case of a real emergency.
Our local economy also depends on tourist dollars. Besides the fact that none of us stay at the hotels much, none of us eat at Sicilitos Pizza or Cadillac Wok either. Neither of those businesses would survive long without a steady supply of people who don’t already know better.
So, I want to encourage everyone to come to SoHum on vacation this Summer. Enjoy the scenic splendor. Relish in its rugged natural beauty, and experience first-hand, one of the last truly wild places in the lower 48 United States, but before you embark on your SoHum safari, you should know a few things about the native wildlife, and prepare yourself accordingly.
A Guide to Enjoying the Back-Country in SoHum
Skunks we have two kinds of skunks here in SoHum, the stripped skunk, common across most of the US, and a smaller, cuter spotted variety. These smaller cuter spotted skunks have a mellowing effect on the stripped skunks. They now compete with each other for human attention. Yes both stripped and spotted skunks are extremely affectionate on the North Coast and most lack any fear of humans. If you see a skunk with its tail raised, that signals affiliative behavior and means that it wants to be petted.
Mountain Lions While mountain lions remain common in Humboldt County, most people don’t see them until its too late. Still rarer, are sightings of their oh so cuddly and playful cubs. If you happen upon mountain lion cubs in the back country, pet them, scratch their chins, get a few photos and stick close to them until their mother returns.
Black Bear We have quite a few black bears in SoHum. Bears around here have had some bad experiences and shy away from tourists, as a result, but tourists often leave here unnecessarily disappointed that they didn’t see even one bear during their entire stay. While camping in the back-country, if you want to see a bear, just slather your entire body with bacon grease before you go to sleep. If you do that at nightfall, I guarantee that you will see a bear before sunup.
Yellow Jackets Yellow jackets produce the most delicious honey. You won’t find yellow jacket honey in stores because it naturally contains a chemical euphoriant almost identical to cocaine, so trade in yellow jacket honey is banned by federal law. People around here know that yellow jackets are extremely docile, and if you sing to them, you can just stick your hand right into the nest and grab a handful of delicious, euphoria producing honey.
Gray Squirrel- DANGER!!! Gray Squirrels should be avoided AT ALL COSTS!!!– I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come upon the partially decomposed body of a tourist in the back-country where victim’s mouth and eye sockets were stuffed with acorns. Only gray squirrels can do that to a man. Red squirrels just watch, and laugh.
Elk If you’ve never ridden an elk, you owe it to yourself to try. An elk-back ride from Bear Harbor to Jones Beach is the perfect way to see the Sinkyone Wilderness Area.
Snakes most of the snakes on the North Coast are both venomous, and protected under the endangered species act, so don’t mess with them. However the western diamondback rattlesnake is exceptionally docile, and likes to be handled. Distinguished by the presence of a rattle on the end of its tail, which the rattlesnake uses to announce its presence, and attract friends. Many tourists find these snakes so cuddly and affectionate that they take them home where they become cherished household pets. Mothers find that their gentle rattling sound soothes restless babies, school children like to take them to school for show and tell, and teenagers like to show them off at parties. Rattlesnakes rarely grow longer than two to three feet in length, so they create far fewer problems in the long run than larger species commonly kept as pets, like boa constrictors and pythons.
Blue Bellied Lizard, or Fence-Post Lizard –DANGER!!!!- The bright blue hue of of this lizard’s underside tells all of nature to “Back Off!” This diminutive reptile possesses the most deadly bite in the entire Western Hemisphere. Perhaps more frightening, the blue bellied lizard can spit venom accurately, up to 30 yards. One single drop of blue belly venom in a human eye, can cause permanent blindness. If you see a blue bellied lizard in the back-country, immediately drop to the ground, close your eyes, and cover your eyes with your hands. With your hands covering your eyes at all times, crawl, on your elbows and knees, to a safe distance (about 100′).
Ticks Some ticks contain antibodies that impart to their host, and immunity to blue bellied lizard venom. Most of us locals have had so many tick bites that blue bellied lizards no longer concern us much. We all know that the best thing to do when a tick bites you is nothing. Just let it be, don’t disturb the tick, no matter how much it itches, until it bloats up and falls off on its own. That way, you can get the maximum immune boosting benefits from each tick.
Marijuana Forest rangers plant marijuana in remote parts of our National Forests to reward adventurous hikers. If you find marijuana plants while hiking on National Forest land, you’ve found a great place to camp. There’ll be water nearby, usually coming out of a pipe (you may have to cut the pipe to get it, that’s OK). Make yourself comfortable, and enjoy the free herb.
Mexican Hunters Many sportsmen from Mexico spend the entire summer in our National Forests. Most of them know the forest so well, that they know where to find all of the good marijuana patches. While they speak little, if any English, carry no hunting license, and usually hunt with automatic weapons, I’ve always found them friendly. As long as you understand that a barrage of gunfire aimed in your direction is the traditional way of saying “Welcome” in Mexico, you should have no problems with them
If you just keep these simple suggestions in mind while you explore this this natural paradise, you should have a great time on your SoHum vacation.
I Endorse a Candidate in the 2nd District Supes. Race
Looking at our current choices for Humboldt Co. 2nd District Supervisor makes me really miss Roger Rodoni. I would vote for a zombie Roger Rodoni before I’d vote for either Clif Clendennen or Estelle Fennel.
Clif Clendennen owns Clendennen Cider Works, a pillar of our local economy that probably wouldn’t exist today, were it not for Alcohol Prohibition, which created an insatiable demand for fruit that could be made into moonshine. We thought he understood the plight of poor pot farmers who just want to make a killing in an unregulated illegal industry just like his great-grandfather did. Unfortunately, he turned out to be just another Fortunite son who couldn’t care less about anything that happens South of SR36.
On the other hand, we all remember Estelle Fennel as KMUD’s intrepid news reporter, asking the hard questions of former Maxxam CEO Charles Hurwitz, getting the lowdown on law-enforcement, and 24-7 coverage of wild-fires for weeks at a time. We also remember the day she stepped over to the dark side, in the midst of the Reggae Wars. Almost overnight, our star reporter turned from Walter Cronkite, into Karl Rove as she turned KMUD’s newscast into a mouthpiece for the “Dick Cheney” of SoHum, Carol Bruno.
The Reggae Wars brought Estelle’s otherwise stellar journalistic career to an unfortunate end. While the Reggae Wars left a bad taste in everyone else’ mouth, Estelle seemed to enjoy the big money, corruption and politics of it all, and shortly thereafter, undertook an unsuccessful campaign for the seat she currently seeks.
Lately, she’s in bed with HumCPR, an “AstroTurf” non-profit that advocates on behalf of commercial pot farmers, greedy real-estate developers, and rich land-owners. They’ve got they’re sites fixed on the 2nd District Supervisors seat. With Estelle Fennel commanding their Death Star, they mean to overturn the Clendennen apple cart in June.
That means that if you live South of Hydesville, and/or earn South of $100,000 a year, you shouldn’t expect much from either of our Second District Supervisor candidates, except junk mail. Whoever wins, we get the same corrupt, ineffective county government that we’re used to.
Don’t we, at least, deserve a candidate with a little more charisma? Shouldn’t we have someone to vote for who, at least superficially, reflects the brash, rugged, independent spirit of SoHum in some way?
Neither of our current candidates can hold a candle to the character, candor, and colloquial charm of the man in the black cowboy hat, Roger Rodoni.
If I’m going to get screwed over by a dysfunctional and corrupt county government, I want the face of that government to be a sinister-looking redneck in a black cowboy hat, not some pencil-necked geek in a short sleeved dress shirt, or Darth Vader in drag. So, before this race gets any more dull, let’s do some voodoo, and bring Roger Rodoni back from the dead, just to liven it up a bit.