justice

Wake Up America! (Part IV)

NFFHC is a part of W. Keith Zoroastrian Enterprises, an international media conglomerate. From time to time, NFFHC will reprint articles from our sister publications which the editorial staff have deemed of exceptionally high quality and particularly important or relevant to the modern world. What follows was originally published as a letter to the editor in the Greensburg Observer, a news and opinion journal located in Greensburg, Indiana. It is the last in a four part series of letters on the topic from American citizen and freelance man-of-letters Randy Miller.

The Last Bastion of American Freedom

Dear Editor,

Well fellow citizens, it looks like the powers that be have “won” the battle of my trial. Your’s truly, Randy Miller, Citizen, is now Randy Miller, Inmate #401L435. It’s alright, though. Heck, I could use some from time. It’ll give me a chance to really delve deep into my scholarly research. Oh yes, old Randy is doing just fine. Don’t you worry about him.

Now you might be thinking to yourself, “Wow, I feel really sorry for Mr. Miller. Here in this mixed up, crazy place we call the modern world, we have a rare example of a man who actually stands up for what he believes, for his freedom, and what do they do to him? They thrown him in prison.” None of that is untrue fellow citizens, but I’m telling you: don’t feel bad. As you are all probably aware by now, this is no longer a free country. A handful of leftist radicals have done their best to destroy every last thing freedom loving patriots hold dear, and I am really just another one of their many victims. We’re all their victims, really. It’s just more obvious with me. All I can say is don’t feel sorry for me. As luck (destiny?) would have it, I just happen to have discovered a little pocket of liberty which the oligarchy that rules this country has failed to squash.

Where is this paradise, you ask? An obscure island off the coast of Alaska? A time machine?  An off the grid, self-sufficient, walled-in compound in rural Montana with an entirely gold-based economy, and daily, mandatory firearms practice and marching drills for all citizens aged four and up? Nope. Wrong on all counts fellow citizens. I’m talking, of course, about prison!

As some of the savvier readers of my letters may know, the American prison system is the envy of the world. America imprisons more citizens per capita than any other nation on Earth. In fact, for every  100,000 citizens in this country there are a robust 716 Americans behind bars, and this number is projected to grow in the years to come as the privately run prison industry lobbies the government for increasingly punitive laws. To put this in perspective, our freedom-depriving, draft-dodger-infested neighbor to the north, Canada, imprisons an anemic 114 per 100,000. Can you believe that? How can a nation be free if it’s not free of law-breakers?

By now I’m sure some of my more narrow-minded readers are thinking, “Wait a minute Randy, is that really a good thing? I mean, nobody wants to go to prison.” Sigh. This couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s a common misconception perpetrated by the Liberty-stalking hippies and Quakers of this country that prison is a bad thing and that it restricts your Liberty. In fact, it does quite the opposite. It’s sort of like that thing where Iceland is the green one and Greenland is the icy one, presumably the work some medieval expert consultant from the PR and Marketing Guild.

So how is prison good for personal freedom? Well, for one thing, consider the prison economy. As far as I can tell, it is the only truly free market, laissez-faire economy on Earth. People here use their free time in the productive pursuits of their choice with little to no interference from the guards. And even when they do interfere, you can get around that through a good, old-fashioned bribe.

The entire economy is built on the currency of the cigarette standard, which, unlike fiat currencies used by countries like America, actually has use and underlying value beyond that dictated into it by the powers that be. On top of that, there are no taxes to speak of, be they income, sales, value-added or whatever. If I make 100 cigarettes in a day through my productive labors, I will keep 100 cigarettes and may spend them as I wish, free from government worms burrowing their way in for a cut.

I haven’t been this excited in years. I feel like Dagny Taggart uncovering John Galt’s secret mountain hideout in Colorado. Everyone here is paid by the value they provide and nothing more or less. The other day I earned 20 cigarettes for providing a fellow inmate instruction as to how to properly stitch a minor shanking wound and spent those cigarettes on a well worn James Madison biography and instruction in the making of the prison beverage known as Pruno.

It’s inspiring to see people who, on the outside, chose a life of crime, come here and suddenly their whole outlook changes. No more crime. No more tricks. No stifling regulation from the Boys in Washington sucking our blood. Just people driving themselves to heroic new levels of production and usefulness. Where an outsider may see a stick or toothbrush, an inmate will see a potential shiv and profit. Where an outsider may see half a bottle of cranberry juice, some old peaches and a steel toilet, an inmate sees a business opportunity. Why, if your average person on the outside had half their gumption, we could conquer China tomorrow.

Oh, and you know what else? The prison economy is roaring. Guess what the unemployment rate is in our fine prison? Surprise, surprise: zero percent. Without a government and their schmoozing cronies taking a cut of everyone’s cigarettes, we are motivated to work to our full potential. As a result, the prison hall is a hotbed of small business entrepreneurship. Toilet vinters, drug mercantilists, weapons smiths, personal trainers. And let me tell you, what Pruno lacks for in quality of ingredients it more than makes up for with the sweet taste of freedom added to it.

I’d also like to point out that every man is employed in useful labors, too. Doing laundry, making license plates, cooking meals, trading goods, etc. Not one gets to leech off society by somehow trying to get paid for doing something silly and unproductive like painting or making music. With exception of tattooing, the “arts” are virtually nonexistant here. Without government grants and university professorships, those types have no way to support themselves without getting people to pay for their wares on the open market. And you know what people are willing to pay for that rubbish? Nothing!

We need the government for virtually nothing here. Even policing and protection are controlled through private enterprise. I myself pay for protection from an extremely scary-looking group of guys through cigarettes and some personal services.

In a free society such as this you’ll also come to notice that there’s a different culture of interpersonal interactions. For one thing, there is zero political correctness. People here know how to call a spade a spade. A is A and the Aryan Brotherhood is me. Right now I’m not technically a member, but I’ve done some work for them, and I am a proud Christian male of Northern European descent. I like their style and they like mine. And that’s just how it is in prison. The old racial segregations are alive and well, as if the hippies never happened. Everyone knows their place and that’s just how it is.

My Aryan Brothers have a real commitment to old-fashioned Christian values, too. The other day they beat the snot out of some the Muslim inmates for no reason (other than that they were Muslim. In this man’s America, that’s enough. You don’t have to wait for them to bomb a skyscraper or shoot up a school before doing something about it. Now that’s freedom of religion! Guys in the joint don’t hide their Christianity either. Instead they put it right out in the open for all to see. My roommate Frank has a giant cross that covers up the whole of his back. Can I get an amen brother?!

It’s going to be hard to leave this place. It really is. I’ve got 5-10 years, but I’ll probably get kicked out in three for “good behavior” knowing the hippies they install on parole boards nowadays. My fellow Americans, I urge you to write your congressman tell him to support our prison system. Right now it’s still going strong, but you know the powers that be would love to rip their fangs in and nationalize it, turning it into one of those socialist prisons in Norway.

God Bless,

Randy Miller, Citizen

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Wake Up America! (Part II)

NFFHC is a part of W. Keith Zoroastrian Enterprises, an international media conglomerate. From time to time, NFFHC will reprint articles from our sister publications which the editorial staff have deemed of exceptionally high quality and particularly important or relevant to the modern world. What follows was originally published as a letter to the editor in the Greensburg Observer, a news and opinion journal located in Greensburg, Indiana. It is the second in a four part series of letters on the topic from American citizen and freelance man-of-letters Randy Miller.

So This is What Has Become of Our Justice System

To the Editor and Readers of the Greensburg Observer,

Liberty. Justice. God. Country. These are the principles the Almighty handed down to our founding fathers, first through the Declaration of Independence and later through that divinely inspired document THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. I have always tried to live my life true to the Constitution and the principles it enshrines. I exercise the full measure of my legal rights. I seek vengeance where vengeance is due. And, most of all, I worship my God and my country. I even carry around a pocket copy of the Constitution to enlighten coworkers and cashiers at Wal-Mart. Sadly, sadly, sadly, these days it seems as if our glorious country has lost its way.

Let me give you an example of what “freedom” means to the powers that be in this country right now. The other day, in what in hindsight seems a bit ill-advised, I attempted to instill my sense of wonder, pride and duty towards America and its Constitution in my sons Reagan and F-150 by taking them to the courthouse. My plan was for them to sit in on a hearing I had for some trumped up charges about lacking the proper permits to satisfy our local bureaucratic overlords. (As a side note, since when do I need permission from the nanny state to heal my own kin, or my neighbor Joe and his daughter’s chinchilla, two consenting adults? I swear, they’re going to require a breathing license sooner or later.)

Anywho, a big reason for taking my sons was I wanted them to see the proper way to represent oneself in court, a skill they will no doubt find useful later in life. They are citizens, like any other, after all. They have the rights conferred by the Constitution and the God-given talent in their brains. I wanted them to see what real citizens do. For one thing, like performing your own appendectomies, representing yourself in court can be a real money saver, particularly with civil issues. More importantly, though, my sons don’t need to be beholden to some so-called “legal professional” provided to them by the very same state machinery that is trying to steal their freedom. You ever really thought about that, by the way? Talk about the fox guarding the hen house!

Anywho, they were hearing other cases before mine, so I decided we should sit in on a trial down the hall to warm them up for witnessing the thrill of republican government in action. This turned out to be a big mistake. As avid readers of my prolific catalogue of letters to the editor are no doubt aware, part of bearing witness in a court of law is the act of “swearing in” before our Creator, the Lord Almighty God, upon His divinely inspired instrument the Holy Bible. All witnesses are supposed to swear that they will tell the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth, so help them God. But here’s where it gets ridiculous. At court that day I witnessed what no doubt had George Washington and Jesus shaking their heads in unison up in heaven. I swear to Ben Franklin, I’ve ever seen anything like it. This joker—hippie fellow by the look of him—came up there and insisted, I kid you not, that he was an atheist and did not want to swear on the Bible.

Now, I would think that’s enough right there to discredit whatever he says. I mean, punishment for perjury under the laws of men are nothing compared to punishment from God, right? But here’s the kicker. This clown of a judge lets the guy do it. I mean, I guess you see some ridiculous things in court. This is why we need governments in the first place, to keep guys like this in check. But if a judge—an officer of the court sworn to uphold the Constitution of the United States, mind you—won’t stop him, what protection do ordinary folks like you and me have from bottom feeders like this? But no, this judge—I couldn’t freakin’ believe it—just has the bailiff ask the guy to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and “nothing but the truth” so help him nothing. What the heck is that? Talk about a legal loophole!

Needless to say, this got ol’ Randy a bit riled up. I practically tripped over myself ushering Reagan and F-150 out of the courtroom as quickly as I could, embarrassed I had even brought them. What’s worse, though—and I’m still a little ashamed to admit it—is for the first time in my life, I was embarrassed to be Citizen of this country that we once called America. For a second, I considered just giving little Ray Ray and Half Ton some money and telling them to go wait for me in the courthouse cafeteria. That’s how much this had shaken my faith in our nation. Once we were out of that snake pit, though, I realized that if I did that, just gave up like that, I would be letting my sons down by letting these people win. I knew what I needed to do was to fire back, to show these kids what makes our country the greatest in the world: righteous Christian citizens standing up for their righteous rights.

I led my kids down the hall to my courtroom and procured some paper. For the next 35 minutes I sat in the back of that courtroom writing on various jury duty informational pamphlets like a man possessed. Ah, heck. I wasn’t like a man possessed. I was a man possessed, possessed with the holy spirit of the United States Constitution! Surely no coincidence, just as I put the finishing touches on my speech, I heard the bailiff call my name (divine inspiration works like that). I got up and strode confidently to the front, ready to meet my destiny and God’s plan.

Now, as readers of my letters are no doubt aware, I am generally a man of law and order. I vote. I own a firearm. I try to slow down in school zones. However, as Benjamin Franklin so aptly put it, “Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.” So while I respect the rule of law and hold in high esteem the judges who enforce it, there was no way I was going to respect judge joker and his crew of merry pranksters that the powers that be had installed on my case. And you better be sure I wasn’t about to give up that most essential of liberties, freedom of speech, just so the judge would take it easy me.

I was ready to fight.

So anywho, this judge, he comes out in his big black robe, with his tie and his slicked back hair and a look you would have had to see to believe. I mean, pompous doesn’t begin to describe it. What really drove me up the wall, though, was this itty-bitty smirk he got on his face every time I spoke, as if hearing the Truth was somehow amusing, as if our great nation were just some joke to him. Sadly, I’m sure it is all a joke to him.

So this judge, he started by asking some basic information: where I live, my education, etc. I told him I was going to take the Fifth on my address since you never who might be listening in that courtroom, and that I had a 26th grade education as of January, mostly done by independent study after the 10th grade. By my count that should be enough for a couple PhDs, far more than this judge’s mere JD, though I would never be so full of myself as to ask people to call me doctor (or doctors really).

Then he asks me if I have an attorney. You have no idea how much this bothers me.

“No your honor, I do not and I do not need one,” I proclaimed without a moment’s hesitation. “I am a proud citizen and patriot of this great nation and a scholar of the history of its government. I am fully capable of representing myself like any self-respecting American should be and don’t need any help from you or the state.”

“You do know you have a right to an attorney in a proceeding such as this Mr. Miller?” the judge replies in the most patronizing voice I probably will ever hear. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one can be provided for you. It’s free, in other words.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” I say. “Your honor, I have ample experience representing myself before this Court and many others. I wouldn’t want an attorney if the government paid me to take one.” (By the way, I’m sure paying you to take a public defender isn’t that far off for the minorities and the gays and all those other so-called “oppressed” peoples.)

“Very well Mr. Miller,” he said, rolling his arrogant eyes. Talk about unprofessional. Quite frankly, the nerve of this guy was astonishing.

So anywho, next the judge asks if I understood the charges against me. Heck, I wasn’t sure he understood the charges against me. What follows is word for word exactly what I said. It comes from the court’s transcript, which I, of course, requested afterwards. There were a couple typos the court reporter probably “accidentally” let in there at the behest of the judge to score political points, but I managed to clean it up.

“Your honor,” I began, “Two hundred and thirty seven years ago a man named George Washington stood accused, just like me. They said he had committed treason, that he refused to pay taxes, that he stood in open insurrection against his rightful leader. Now, do you know what he did, because I have serious doubts? Did he come crawling back to King George, begging for forgiveness? ‘Oh, please, massa King George, give us more of your wonderful taxes. I’m so sorry. I loves me some taxes!’ No. Did he cower in the dark, hoping the storm would pass? ‘Oh, please, King George don’t hurt me.’ No. Fellow citizens—even you, your honor—he rose up! He stood for Liberty, and he didn’t sit down until he had created a little something called the United States of America, the greatest country there has ever been or ever will be.”

“Mr. Miller,” the judge interrupted, “All I’m asking is whether you understand the charges against you. You’re not accused of treason or tax evasion or anything besides practicing medicine without a license.”

“Your honor, if you’d bothered to let me finish, you’d see that I am answering your question. I’m just trying to give the court a little context. I mean, isn’t that what’s missing from today’s 24-hour-news-saturated, fast food world, just a little context?”

“Fine, Mr. Miller, proceed, but make it quick. This isn’t my only case today.”

“Thank you, your honor. Liberty. Justice. God. Country. These are the guiding principles we inherited from our Founding Fathers, who were granted them by Almighty God.” I didn’t realize it until some heads turned, but I was nearly shouting in my ecstatic passion for this great land. “These principles are enshrined in our Constitution, a constitution which is the Supreme Law of the Land, mind you, one to which this this court supposedly subject.

“Excuse me, Mr. Miller?” the judge interrupted again.

I try to ignore him and keep going. “Your honor, in the words of Ronald Reagan, America’s greatest modern President and one of the finest leaders the world has ever known: ‘Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children’s children what it was once like in the United States where men were free.’

I could hear people shuffling out of the courtroom at this point, no doubt uncomfortable in hearing this Truth as a man coming out of a cave would be sensitive to sunlight. But I took heart that such men will adjust so long as the light remains. I continued.

“So, your honor,” I said with a subtle trace of sarcasm that, no doubt, went right over this judge’s head, “To answer your question, NO! I do not understand the charges against me. Yes, I understand the meaning of the words. I understand the dictionary definition of the crime with which you are attempting to pin me. But no, I do not understand the ways of men who unjustly accuse and imprison the righteous. Those who would attempt to cage the wings of Liberty, the men who would not let the eagle soar like she’s never soared before, deserve neither liberty or exotic pets.”

I let those words hang in the air for effect. The courtroom was stricken with a raucous, cacophonous silence. The man in the back row who had not left was in an apparent state of shock to see such a passion. The judge, too, was speechless, no doubt unaccustomed to such a fight. For at least 10 or 20 seconds all he could do was rub his temples, attempting to think of where he could possibly go now.

“Mr. Miller, are you finished?” the judged finally asked.

“I will never be finished!”

“Just, please. How do you plead Mr. Miller?”

“I have never been guilty your honor. I am not guilty now and I will never be guilty!”

“Let the record show the Defendant has entered a plea of not guilty,” the judge said in a rushed tone. “Trial is scheduled for March 5th. This hearing is adjourned.” He swung his gavel.

Walking out of the courtroom I savored my victory, but ultimately I knew I had won a battle but not the war. My real test would come March 5th. No doubt the judge and his political cronies would regroup and restrategize by then. This might have seemed a frightening prospect to some, but I have always had faith in the people of this country. Decent, hard working folks like you and me have the heart and the common sense to fight things like this.

You may not think this affects you, but I implore you, the people of Greensburg, not to be so short-sighted. This is how it happens. First they will come for the Millers, but you will not speak up because you are not a Miller. Then they will come for you and there will be no one left to speak up! The time will soon come when you, too, are in some kangaroo court being put on display by the powers that be to score political points. Stand with me March 5th and fight. Fight for Truth. Fight for Justice. Fight for America.

God Bless,

Randy Miller, Citizen

Free Will and Other Inevitable Superstitions

The concept of fault is something I really struggled with in law school. Recently I saw an episode of Law and Order that perfectly highlighted my issue with the concept and really with our whole criminal justice system in general.  In it, a straight-laced, previously law-abiding and overachieving high school principal developed a brain tumor that inhibited the impulse control centers in the frontal lobe of her brain. This led her to try to screw anything that moved, including the children she worked with. They arrested her for sexually assaulting a minor and she successfully used the “tumor made me do it” defense.

In the episode they showed CAT scans of her brain seeing pictures of children after the tumor was removed with a similar readout for a certified child molester for comparison. All the good people at the DA’s office came to the conclusion that because her brain now showed the patterns of a normal person, it wasn’t her abnormal brain that caused the crime but the abnormal tumor affecting her normal brain, and therefore she wasn’t at fault. Okay, I agree with the result, but am I the only one who finds it insane that we can forgive one brain malfunction but not another?

If one physical abnormality of the brain, e.g. a tumor, can relieve someone of culpability for a crime, then why shouldn’t another physical abnormality of the brain? People don’t molest children because they’re evil demon souls that need to be sent straight to hell. They molest children because they were born with abnormal brain structure/chemistry that makes them desire children sexually and affords them insufficient impulse control to avoid acting on that. Don’t get me wrong. Molesting children is horrible. I just don’t see how one physical pathology makes someone any more or less guilty than another.

Of course the punishment-minded moral zealots of society proper have a response: it’s a matter of free will. With child molesters they have free will to choose whether or not to selfishly satisfy their dark desires and choose to do so. With the principal in Law and Order, the tumor removed her free will. So I guess the brain tissues we’re born with are a matter of personal responsibility, rich with free will juices and other magic, but tumors, being a creation of the demon of cancer or some shit (who I guess must be actively invited into your brain?), are not?

The thing is, if a physical thing can remove free will, is free will not the product of something physical inside of us? If being drugged can remove free will, is free will, or rather the organ creating its illusion, not physical? And if free will is physical, that is, if it is the product of cause and effect between conglomerations of matter, how can it be free?

Free will, by definition, requires some sort of supernatural element—something beyond the energy and matter, space and time and physical laws that make up our Universe. Purely physical things are completely at the mercy of the rest of the physical world. A rock cannot choose to go right or left. It is acted upon by the rest of the Universe and flows with it, like dominoes tumbling in a row, one after the other. If we are purely physical creatures, there can be no such thing as free will. Certainly a human is more, or at least different from a rock. But just because it is more complex—so complex in fact that we have difficulty ferreting out the causes behind it—does not mean that it is not still a totally physical thing, completely at the mercy of the physical Universe.

Some articles and friends I’ve discussed this issue with have mentioned that the seemingly random behavior of atoms at the quantum level could provide the basis for free will. This is intriguing and gives me more pause than most of the “just because” answers you typically get, but it’s still unsatisfying. Never mind that I doubt the existence of randomness and consider its illusion the inability to grasp the complexity of a situation (i.e. there is no such thing as randomness, just unpredictability by humans), if subatomic randomness were inherent to our structure, how is true randomness any more free from the perspective of personal responsibility than total order and absolute cause and effect? If one time out of one trillion I would kill a man in a given situation, is my poor luck in hitting one of those rare occasions something more deserving punishment than my non-murderous existence? What if one in two? One in five? The point is it doesn’t matter. Chance is by definition not a matter of free will. The idea that we are affected by the world in ways we cannot control but yet responsible for our response to all those effects is absurd.

Free will is, in actuality, of course, a concept rooted in religious superstition and used by our justice system as an excuse for the punishments it doles out to people because they “deserve it.” Murder, rape, and all the rest. Horrible crimes by perfectly ordinary people. Deep down I think most people realize this but choose to ignore it. And why? Guilt. Guilt for the cruelty we visit upon the guilty. Because, as a practical matter, our justice system is horribly inhumane without it. Left without fault and desert-based notions of crime and punishment (what’s known as retributivist justice), we are left without punishment as a justification in itself. Without harming people for the sake of harming them, because they deserve it, we can only imprison or punish people because, as a practical matter, it’s necessary to protect society. That, my friends, would make a huge portion of our “justice” system monstrous. More to the point, it would make us monsters for tolerating it.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying we should just abandon our laws because all crimes are understandable given the perpetrator’s physical makeup and life experiences, something over which, without free will, they had no control. What I’m saying is we should revisit the tenets of our retributivist justice system which focuses on revisiting the harm inflicted by the defendant back onto the defendant because we think somehow they had a meaningful choice and decided to do the evil thing and pollute their souls or whatever. Cruelty is never an appropriate response to cruelty. Cruelty is never an appropriate response to anything. Instead of focusing on the results of criminal pathology, why not focus on addressing the cause of the problem? Perhaps there is no way to treat child molesters and therefore they really do need to be locked up for life in order to protect our children, the potential harm to which easily justifies the harm visited upon the defendant by imprisonment. Fine. But shouldn’t we work to minimize the harm that nature has dealt us? Punishment for punishment’s sake makes no sense other than being a half-assed basis for our justice system. Justice is not vengeance. Or at least it shouldn’t be. In our current society, though, I have a hard time telling the difference. In the end, there is no justification for vengeance other than that it satisfies the rage in our monkey minds.