Today's Topics:
An Apology and an Appeal
unsubscribing fools
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Date: Thu, 29 Apr 93 01:39:34 -0400
From: "Todd B.Aubin" <taubin@locusbu.edec.locus.com>
Message-Id: <9304290539.AA07626@locusbu.edec.locus.com>
To: Subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Subject:
please remove me from this mailing list
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From: Bill Eichman <wce@hogbbs.scol.pa.us>
Subject: An Apology and an Appeal
Message-Id: <LJmL3B1w166w@hogbbs.scol.pa.us>
Date: Mon, 26 Apr 93 01:31:44 EDT
Organization: The Heart of Gold BBS, Lemont PA
I have been asked to post this text to alt.drugs....
Introduction
============
Now it is one year after the New Hampshire primary. And tonight Pres.
CLINTON makes his first pitchman-USA 'campaign-'96' appeal from the oval
office. It is also three full months since the last of the Campaign '92
events concluded, the 6th Annual DPF Conference. It was here that my Penn
State troops deserted...over a broken-up love affair...and it was within
weeks I too learned I too had been discarded by a 50 month residency-
relationship and once again 'my politics' was the paramount reason given.
Always in the hopes that LOVE will conquer even in the world of
Politics, I remain open to Goddess how she finds me as this most cathartic
experience evolves in the weeks ahead.
This year I will address the New York 20th Annual SMOKE-IN and POT-
PARADE "up 5th Ave" on May 8th. It'll probably be my last MINUTE-MAN
exposure before I make one last "run around the Power spots" on my way to
Prague and Spain and the Netherlands "25 years after PRAGUE-SPRING" and
then to WOODSTOCK for the 25th next August '94.
So many young people don't seem to think I have had a life...so this
book is by way of my setting that record straight...and preparing my-
Self...for the REAL LIFE...I have so worked so long to achieve...even if
...a-lone.
And so. Let it begin.
President's Day '93
State College,Pa
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"AN APOLOGY and APPEAL" ad to E-Mail, High Times, New Times, City Paper(s),
VOICE etc....Bob Fass Pacifica/Margot Adler NPR/ATC etc.....Bay Guardian...
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AN APOLOGY
==========
I, Michael Moran, was born in the last year of the Hoover
Administration to college graduated journalists Charles and Mildred Moran,
she a much sought after graphics illustrator as well, in the heyday of the
Gotham dailies. I was a bi-coastal kid due to my mother's friendship and
professional relationship with the new First Lady before the Roosevelts'
first year in office; bounced on Babe Ruth's knee, played pick-up ball with
the injured Lou Gehrig and fungo with Hall of Famers Red Rolfe and Mickey
Cochrane on our 72nd Street and Riverside Drive penthouse, from which I
watched the new King and Queen of England with my oft-published poetess-
sister and watched the famed Normandie burn and rollover in her westside-
dock and saw the bomber hanging out of the world's tallest building in the
first days of Superman as my dad became one of the ten best sportswriter's
in the country and launched Street & Smith's before Conden-Nash first
Baseball & Football Yearbooks, Sport Comics and Athlete magazine taking me
to Soldiers Field for Army-Navy and West Point for his alma mater Notre
Dame against the West Pointer's Mr. Inside and Outside (Davis and
Blanchard!) and into the Press Boxes, dugouts and benches at the Polo
Grounds, Yankee Stadium and Ebbetts Field all before I was twelve.
Graduating from Roskrudge Jr. HS in the Old Pueblo (Tucson) as a bi-lingual
the first year after WWII, and joining the US Army paratroops while a
junior at Canuga Pk. HS in the San Fernando Valley, to become the Regular
Army's youngest trooper at 16 must have given me a personal sense of "being
different" which was only accentuated by my smoking marijuana with two
others in late August of '48 on the parade grounds of the brick quartels at
Ft. Benning where I was to be stationed as a cadreman in H Co (the
instructors' company) the Airborne Battalion until my honorable, if early
discharge in 1950.
My dad, who by that time was the Sunday Editor of Arizona's largest
paper (The Republic) working for Danny Quayle's grandfather, offering
suggestions to the likes of Sen. Everett Dirksen (See Making of the
President -64) about politics steered me to work for the young Jaycee VP,
photographer and Charter city councilman Barry Goldwater's first and
successful US Senate race knocking-off the then Senate Majority leader
Ernest MacFarland in my first year out-of-service. My uncle (stepmother's
brother) taught me voter registration and clip-board petitioning as
Arizonans amended the Baby State's Constitution to admit Arizona State
Teachers College at Tempe into the realm of land grant universities the
following year, thereby laying the groundwork for both schools' eventual
entrance to the PAC-10 and the creation of NAU at Flagstaff. Thusly
propelling me towards an early understanding of the American political
process which I had thought might uniquely qualify me as a know-ledgeable
and experienced "user*" and "spokesperson" for home-users and cultivators
of 'the herb', when I first began standing-up at public meetings and
amongst political aficionados and organizers in tiny, pastoral and very
Republican Vermont in 1966 speaking as a Thoreauvian-libertarian about "the
unenumerated" Rights of Privacy there in Ethan Allen country.
That was the year that Allen Ginsberg began LEMAR in New York and even
I circulated his petitions in California when I worked briefly for the
William Penn Patrick campaign for Governor against Ronnie Reagan in the
Republican primary. Michael Aldrich also started AMORPHIA on the West Coast
that same year. The 'users' supported Allen, the head-shops supported
Michael....and I took up the ax (like in jazz - the solo-sax) for America's
adult-homegrowers and in Vermont we brought the first liberalization
changes in the then thirty-year uninterrupted increasing penalties for
marijuana possession at the insistence and direction of the Feds, after I
furnished my State Senator with a 'sample' of Vermont-Green grown from
Cambodian-seeds somewhere in the Northeast Kingdom area by returning Viet-
Vets and a few phone calls from some of them and other downcountry artists,
musicians and writers pocketed throughout the Green Mtns from Putney to
Brattleboro, from the Lake to the Green Mtns. Some of whom voted as local
residents and were tax-paying property-owners. We called ourselves GRASS-
Roots as in GRASS was the Root to our "consciousness" both social-cultural
and political. There was no better thoreauvian challenge then available to
me without obtaining at least a few years of university courses and I could
never afford them so I taught instead. Classes of friends throughout
northern New England from '63 to '72 including Goddard and Franconia
(NH)Colleges, the Univ of Vermont, Johnstown College, Lyndon State, SUNY
Plattsburg and Trinity College in Burlington.
Having helped charter a couple of Young Republican clubs, one in
Virginia Beach when I was writing filmscripts for N.A.S.A's Project Mercury
which put me in contact with both Vice President Lyndon Johnson and the
first seven Astronauts, and attending GOP Leadership school at the
insistence of Rep. Miller (NY) who Goldwater would tap as his V/P candidate
in 64, plus a couple of different State GOP YR Conventions including one at
Richmond where I met and worked with the now Federal Judge George Revercomb
of Kentucky, I felt I had carved out a decent and credible resume for
leading the fight for homegrowers' "rights to privacy" --- to grow and
consume (as adults) at home without Government controls or taxation.
That we were able to stem the Feds' tide in Vermont in '66 and could
in the next two years as Jaycees and YRs help convince Michigan legislators
to follow our 'prosecutoral discretion' liberalization, which eventually
allowed for East Lansing, Ann Arbor and Ipsalanti's 'ticketable offense'
ordinances was even more encouraging when it became a model for the Feds'
policy under the newly elected Richard Nixon, two years before NORML's
founding.
What with the student uprisings in Europe, the Praugue Spring and the
Woodstock Festival the following summer, followed by the Alternative Media
Conference at Goddard in Plainfield for the summer solstice of 1970 and
Earth Day one year later, the first Rainbow Gathering the summer of '72 in
Colorado, it appeared to me that no more than 4 more years and we'd get
"homegrown" liberated especially with the CMI (California Marijuana
Initiative) on the ballot in a Presidential election year and N.O.R.M.L.
coming-on strong for decrim through their bedroom connection to Playboy and
advertising trades with Trans-High the publishers of High Times from their
DC offices.
With four years as Arizona's fulltime registered lobbyist and
submitting what some reporters stated was the "most advanced marijuana
cultivation" legislation in the country at the time (bi-Centennial
elections) and following that with collecting 94-to-6,000 signatures on
petitions trying to get Gov. Carter and Pres. Ford to debate the "home
cultivation" question in their third-debate at William and Mary in
Williamsburg in a nationwide campaign through 20 states and 22 campuses,
crisscrossing the four top candidates throughout the fall and winding up
with the Libertarians and Chuck McBride at Richmond in the last days, I
felt I had paid my dues as a political-activist for potheads, and ought
thereby be recognized by NORML and High Times. especially after Carter won
and appointed Peter Bourne as Drug advisor.
Instead I drew heat from Tom Forcade (see LSD-Issue Jan-77) and scorn
from Keith Stroup. The YIPPIES already didn't trust anybody over thirty and
I was already 34 when I started back in '66.
Then came two years in the Arizona State Penitentiary for possession
of grass and acid as the state's only registered lobbyist for marijuana to
which neither NORML or the ACLU would even file an amicus brief let alone
provide me with an Attorney. With HT remaining silent til I started feeding
Bud Bogart with GRASS-Roots info in late 79/early 80 from NYC again. I
became bitter and angry.
And since my release in 1979, it has been recently and
painfully brought to my attention I have been difficult to get along with,
have run roughshod over peoples' emotions and in many instances their
lives, incurring debts that I could not pay, causing hardships among the
innocent, and destroying most of my efforts by failing to meet my
obligations for many pounds of pot used in my political activism, which
many have equated to an ego- or power-trip.
Since 1988 I have been working out of State College, where Penn State
University is located and have had some influence on students'
participation in beating Dick Thornburgh and electing Bill Clinton and Al
Gore to the White House, but again with pockets of upset, misdirected
emotions, power-plays and bad debts predominant in my wake.
Most recently I was in a near fatal accident, two others were injured
more seriously than I was, returning from the Inhale to the Chief rally
across from the White House on Clinton's first full day in office. As a
result of the accident I have been charged with possession (1.1grms) and
DUI and face expensive fines and from 2 days to 2yrs in jail, on probation
or in a drug rehab program.
At the same time a nearly five year relationship has been ended by
the other party due to my political activism, my 'illegal' activities and
my "lunacy" following this path as a "freelance volunteer" always believing
that having gotten my Social Security card to stand before cameras and
lights in the first years of its inception and then lived my life as though
I could write-or-talk the novel, donating my time to "the cause", someday
'the story' would have merit, even if only of historic import to others who
will follow, and thus would somehow --- pay the bills.
Really believing that my trip was "different", that what I was
struggling for was not the same as Yippie, High Times, NORML or the legions
of new Hemptoids springing up merchandising hemp products everywhere, and
seeing no one else really driving at the national movement leaders or
attending the drug-law reformers' conferences and convent-ions of exactly
the same "taxfree"/regional certification process local-option/home rule
free market trade centers for all hempen products , I thought I could
really make a difference for the nearly 9 Million estimated (rightfully
often too paranoid to organize or fund) homegrowers who have only ever
wanted to be separated from both the illicit market and the government's
interdiction. To this end I have continued to appear in public as the
Marijuana Minute Man ( "give you a minute about marijuana I bet you never
learned in school") from time to time, especially during national Campaign
years.
All of which is by way of saying that I apologize for any hurts,
feeling, financial or physical, my "TRIP" has caused anyone over these
twenty-seven now years of activism. I really thought I was doing something
out-of-the-ordinary and that in time my just rewards would come, and I'd be
able to pay all my debts and then some.
Now I realize I am really but one phone call from being homeless. I
am already penniless and have thousands of dollars of bad debts and herb-
fronts to repay, fines, insurance and lawyers fees to cover, and am still
not released from the Hershey Medical Center Trauma Unit for "a slight
swelling on the brain" that I am still being CAT-SCANned for in the weeks
ahead.
I've had some loss of memory and sight difficulties and my
legendary vim is not yet back to par. All of which is by stating that as my
son so aptly put it not too long ago on the phone, "how much longer are you
going to be a volunteer, Dad?" In my 62nd year now I feel I have done all
that one person can do as a freelance public-interest advocate for
America's homegrowers. I now have to attend to mending my frame, finding
some solace for my aching-heartspace and a way to contribute to Society in
such a way so as not to be a burden on my friends or the people who have
already risked so much to support my often whimsical efforts.
There will be at least one more Minute Man appearance at the 20th
Annual 5th Avenue POT PARADE in NYC March 8th at Washington Square as a
native New Yorker and the following week my farewell to American Rainbow at
the Central Park annual picnic.
If there is one thing I have learned since the accident it is that
my opinion of my worth and import to The Movement has been grossly
exaggerated by me and in some instances has deterred others, perhaps with
better qualifications and different methodologies from getting more
involved; and that my belief in a "majick bubble" that somehow directly or
intimately protected me and all those who helped me or shared my efforts
has been fractilized and the hurt and sorrow that many have endured at my
hands or from my efforts has been visited upon me now curtailing my
usefulness both to the movement, perhaps any other and even myself.
Should you still have some fonder memories of those glory days, or
if in fact I did help you, or your group at some time, I leave my
attorney's name, address and phone number for whatever help you can give
him in my defense, which he has taking on because he feels I have "fought
the good fight for so long" for others, that now I need someone who'll
fight the good fight on my case in court for me.
If this doesn't sound like the me you're used to hearing about or
talking with, just realize the nature of the bump on my head, the ending of
my love-life so abruptly and the futility of more than a quarter-century of
misunderstandings and mishandling of others' trusts, herb and monetary
support has changed me forever.
If you too feel somewhat 'let down' by my retiring in this fashion,
perhaps my stepping-out of the way for the younger activists to take their
turns at the wheel will bring a quicker response for their visions of
"legalization".
I am not foolish enough now to think either my vision will come to
pass or my experience would make any real difference in how NORML/High
Times/YIPPIE and the Drug Law reformers will cut-the-final "deal" that
America's entrepreneurial marijuana-users will ratify. I was not always
glad to serve, nor were all my days in the movement or Rainbow happy ones,
but I am reasonably proud of what little I was able to do given the
resources, circumstances and support I had over these many years and I ask
your apology for quitting in this manner, at this time and appeal for any
support you might feel free enough to forward my attorney at your
convenience.
What a long, strange road it has been....these Politix-of-
POThibition...circa '66 - '94!
with regards and begging your
forgiveness for whatever discomfort or hurt I have caused you...please,
michael moran
state college, pa. 16805
814-231-7127 voice mail
814-867-9795 residence(nights best)
AN A P P E A L
+++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++
" Should you still have some fonder memories of those glory days,
or if in fact I did help you, or your group at some time, I leave my
attorney's name, address and phone number for whatever help you can give
him in my defense, which he has taking on because he feels I have "fought
the good fight for so long" for others, that now I need someone who'll
fight the good fight on my case in court for me. "
Mike Moran is really in desperate need of financial help. During his return
home from the Clinton Inauguration, in icy Pennsylvania weather, to
participate in a local fundraiser, he had a serious accident. The accident
itself was bad, but worse was a charge of possession for a small amount of
cannabis. The accident left him unable to earn money and has brought him to
the verge of homelessness. Many people know Mike Moran, through Rainbow or
Marijuana Activism. If he's helped or inspired you in the past, it's time
to help him now, because god knows he needs it.
Don't send money to Mike Moran-- send it to his lawyer. Anyone who sends
over twenty dollars will be sent an interesting and collectable thank you
gift (A t-shirt and documents), a letter of thanks, and a report accounting
for all expenditures of donations.
Mike's lawyer's name and address is:
William C. Bispels, Jr
Suite 300, 300 S. Allen St.
State College, Pa, 16801
His telephone is 814-237-6278. Please make checks payable to "Mike Moran
c/o William C. Bispels, Jr.".
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From: whitmj@rpi.edu
Date: Thu, 29 Apr 93 02:21:45 EDT
Message-Id: <9304290621.AA19321@client.its.rpi.edu>
To: Subgenius@mc.lcs.mit.edu
Subject: unsubscribing fools
What's with all these aforementioned fools getting off the subgeni-net?
Hell, maybe I don't post much, or even at all until now, and maybe I'm
not too sure on what slack is, and maybe BOB is but a palindrome to me
at the moment, BUT (the very but for which you have been waiting so long),
but at least I'm not unsubscribing. I mean hey, why insubscribe when it
will only leave room in your mail box for trail-free offers and mailer-daemons?
And what happened to the cookies for Jesus? I found that fascinating.
/|/| < o_ / /|/|
o o < o |< \/ \/ >| o o
\______| | |------\ | \______|
/\ /\ | o o | /\ /\
|< |/|/ >|_o >
/ o >
no slogan, no quote, no jeromtihw.
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End of Subgenius Digest
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