LISTEN NOW… As the 2019 primaries heat up, join your hosts for a discussion of the recent debates, wild accusations that one candidate is a Russian sleeper agent, and much more on this week’s episode of Told You So! LISTEN NOW…
When a former Manchester alderman calls for gun confiscation in the state’s largest newspaper for the state’s largest city, I pay attention.
When that former alderman is Bill Cashin, who called the cops on me a few years ago when he didn’t like my 100% legal and protected First Amendment actions outside “his” Senior Center on Douglas Street (I was protesting against Chris Herbert after he suggested that the elderly of Manchester should be thrown out of their homes in order to be replaced with residents who can pay more in taxes), I pay attention because I know people who think this way are more dangerous than any firearm.
Why? Because anyone who thinks “we need MANDATORY gun buybacks” is a menace to society, liberty, and human dignity.
Let’s break it down:
1. Government is FORCE. What does this mean? It means that for every law we enact, the police are “authorized” to show up and use their guns to make you do whatever it is the piece of paper (the law) says. Sometimes–oftentimes, these days–these black-clad, balaclava wearing men and women, are not all that concerned about the morality of what they are doing, they’re just “doing it.” When confronted, they’ll simply say, “We’re just following orders.”
Of course, you know who else used that argument. Click through for more on “How the Nazis defense of ‘just following orders’ plays out in the mind,” but this is salient:
“If people acting under orders really do feel reduced responsibility, this seems important to understand. For a start, people who give orders should perhaps be held more responsible for the actions and outcomes of those they coerce.”
2. “Mandatory” literally means “required by a law or rule: OBLIGATORY.” So when Cashin uses the word “mandatory” in the context of a gun buyback, the question begs to be asked: What happens when people do not line up to hand over their firearms?
3. Would YOU voluntarily hand over your guns to a group of people who:
a. Are actively trying to disarm you because *they don’t like the things you like*;
b. Treat you, their law abiding neighbors, like criminals even when you have committed no crimes;
c. Are so irrational as to conflate a tool like a gun, with bad actions, like harming or killing someone. If you follow their logic, I’ll get on board when we have mandatory fork buybacks to save people from obesity.
New Hampshire has some of the least restrictive gun laws in the country, and we are one of the safest states. These two things are not coincidental, but rather go hand in hand. I find it utterly shocking, as should you, that a former alderman and veteran would call for mandatory gun confiscation. Back in 2018, several Democrats I was cultivating when I ran for NH Senate said: “Carla, we don’t want to take your guns, and if you keep saying that we do, we can’t vote for you.” Whatcha saying now?
Dear Senators,
I’m reaching out to implore you to do the right thing this morning, and vote to override the Governor’s misplaced veto on HB 364, and support homegrown cannabis for qualifying patients. With your experience in the Senate, having heard testimony on this issue over the years, I have to believe that you now know that allowing patients to grow medicine for their personal use is the most compassionate approach we can take. Patients, not criminals!
You have a historic opportunity to change the lives of patients for the better, including for a dear friend of mine, a paraplegic who needs daily MJ for pain, and cannot always afford what the dispensaries charge. Cannabis treatments from dispensaries remain cost prohibitive for many patients (more than $400 per ounce!!!), so allowing patients to grow a plant/herb that gives them relief should, of course, be allowed in a free society.
Sadly, the Governor is wrong on this issue and I hope you will do the right thing and stand with patients and the majority of Granite Staters, including the House of Representatives who yesterday overturned the Governor’s veto by more than the 2/3 majority required. It is clear: Granite Staters want this madness to end.
If you are a Republican, I understand it is difficult to stand against our party and our Governor, but I trust you know in your heart of hearts, it is the right thing to do. If you are a Democrat, today’s veto override vote should be a no-brainer. I know that, personally, I will be watching Democrat Lou D’Allesandro’s vote ever-so-closely. If he votes against this bill, against compassion, and against patients, as he has done on MJ issues in the past, I hope voters of District 20 will finally give him the boot in 2020 in favor of my candidacy.
You all have an important decision to make, but I believe this is why you are there to serve. I hope you will stand with the will of the people, patients, and freedom, and vote to override the Governor’s veto on HB 364.
Yours sincerely,
Carla Gericke
It was an honor to once again participate in the 6th Annual FreeCoast Festival. I gave a presentation about “How to Renegade Right” at the Praxeum in Dover on Saturday, and on Sunday, spent a charming afternoon hanging out with dedicated liberty lovers at a special edition of Market Day. Good times, great to see everyone, and meet newbies. Welcome to the prickle!
Governor Sununu needs to start listening to the will of the people over other entrenched special interests (like police unions who are only supposed to “enforce the law” NOT lobby). A vast majority of Granite Staters support the legalization of cannabis for recreational purposes, and yet, here we are, still muddling through our pathetic, terrible, uneconomical and largely useless medical marijuana laws. While I agree with the Gov on many issues that promote and enhance the #NHAdvantage, he is wrong on cannabis, and I hope his vetoes on MJ reform and homegrown are overturned when the legislature goes back into session later this month.
Bipartisan “Letter to the Editor” in today’s Union Leader from Sen. Jay Kahn of Keene (Senate District 10) and Sen. John Reagan of Deerfield, who represents Senate District 17 (read full LTE here):
“Our state government has made it too difficult and too expensive for many New Hampshire residents to access therapeutic cannabis products. Two fixes passed by the Legislature are immediately available. We ask you to contact your state legislators and urge them to override the governor’s vetoes of SB 88 and SB 145 and lower the barriers for accessing therapeutic marijuana.”
“We must do better for Granite Staters who receive physician-authorized permission to use therapeutic marijuana. Residents can’t simply obtain their physician’s permission and go to the local pharmacy. By statute, a patient must wait 90 days, while they fill out a state form and submit a photo on a CD-ROM so they can receive a state ID card. The process is awful, which makes us think Governor Sununu was poorly advised when he vetoed legislation to fix it.”
For those interested in learning more about the medicinal qualities of marijuana, I recommend watching the documentary, Weed the People (watch trailer): “Cannabis has been off-limits to doctors and researchers in the US for the past 80 years, but recently scientists have discovered its anti-cancer properties. Armed with only these laboratory studies, desperate parents obtain cannabis oil from underground sources to save their children from childhood cancers. ‘Weed the People’ follows these families through uncharted waters as they take their children’s survival into their own hands. Some of their miraculous outcomes beget the unsettling question at the heart of the film: If weed is truly saving lives, why doesn’t the government want people to access it?”
Why, indeed… Could it be because the government, represented by special interest like police unions, correctional unions, and the like, BENEFIT from prohibition? Did you know who the top 5 lobbyists against marijuana legalization are? Let me help you:
Police unions
Private prisons
Prison guard unions
Alcohol companies
Big Pharma
Can you figure out why? 🙂
Tammy Simmons is chairperson of the Manchester Republican Committee, and last evening, she, together with her partner, Dan Garthwaite, threw quite the p-a-r-t-a-y in honor of Victoria Sullivan, candidate for mayor of Manchester.
Approximately 80-100 people gathered on their front lawn on Varney Street to meet and mingle with candidates running for local elections. Even the Governor made an appearance, giving a great speech, and graciously staying for several rounds of pics.
I am running for local school charter commission this Fall, and it was a pleasure to meet Ward 10 and 11 voters. Two real conversations: “I voted for you last time, but it’s great to finally put a face to a name,” and “I *didn’t* vote for you last time, but now that I’ve met you, I definitely will!” I look forward to meeting more constituents in the coming months, and remember, I’ll be back in 2020 for my Senate seat!
LISTEN NOW… The New Hampshire Primary brings candidates and national media from all over the country to our little state every four years. While many see it as a boon to the political (and economic) culture of the state, is it really a net positive? Get the inside scoop on the New Hampshire primaries and some analysis on this cycle’s Democratic slate from your hosts on this week’s Told You So! LISTEN NOW…
I’m working on a summary of yesterday’s proceedings regarding the City of Manchester’s proposed plans to put up several surveillance cameras downtown. In the mean time, here’s today’s coverage from local media sources…
We want more privacy,” plaintiff Carla Gericke said. “We want the government’s role to be limited and restricted as it’s constitutionally supposed to be. Let’s not turn into a big brother Orwellian surveillance state.”
Gericke, a liberty activist who has sought state and local office, said she would have no issue with a storeowner installing a camera and voluntarily sharing video with police. ‘Everyone’s working together. That’s a decentralized approach,’ she said. ‘What we’re talking about here is a very centralized approach where it’s centralized in one group of people’s hands. We don’t know really what’s going to happen to the data and I think it’s naive to just say we should trust them.’
Carla Gericke, president emeritus of the Free State Project and a Manchester activist who led a protest against the cameras last April outside City Hall. She is concerned about the cameras having a chilling effect on future protests. She questioned whether the cameras would record future protesters and if the police would use the information to make a database of trouble-makers and renegades.
I have suffered from stage fright my entire life. When I say “fright,” I mean a full-blown, out-of-body experience during which time I have zero recollection of what is happening, and cannot recall a single word I said. It is terrifying. Imagine having a blackout on stage, in front of an audience. This is me. Every single time.
Forget about imagining the audience naked or, if you’re more polite, in their undies. Forget about emulating your favorite public speakers. Forget about Ouma’s ‘Five Ps’—Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance!—because you are about to go on stage, and you are not prepared!
Again.
At PorcFest 2011, I looked around the main tent, trying to still my breathing. The space is filled with people I know. Donors. People who want to see the Free State Project succeed. People who want to see me succeed… I think?! I glance across the field, watching brightly clad teenagers playing pick-up basketball. I try to sync my breathing to the bounce of the ball. It doesn’t work. I glance at the notes I’ve jotted down over the past hour in the VIP tent while downing three gin and tonics: “Yankee Hong Kong!!!!” “Success stories!!!” “Gimme your money!!!”
I’m fucked.
Again.
The first time I experienced a blackout speech was at Mafikeng Primary School. I must have been eight or nine. I was two years younger than my classmates, which came with its own set of challenges, but mostly manifested itself in me trying too hard. I won’t lie: I was a Smart Aleck.
(As smart as you can be when you are constantly playing catch-up.)
As part of our curriculum, we did a public speaking course. Half your grade came from prepared speeches given over the term, and the other, from impromptu talks where the teacher gave you a topic, five minutes to prepare a short talk by jotting down your ideas on flash cards, and then you were expected to give a three minute speech to the class.
My topic that day was about what would happen if the drought we were experiencing never ended. I wrote ‘World Wars!!!!’ on my card.
That was it.
When I came to, when I reentered by body, no longer hovering above myself watching my mouth move, when the electrical charges coursing through my insides left, and the shooting starbursts in my peripheral vision disappeared, when I could again identify my peers and friends sitting in front of me, and I returned to the stuffy classroom trailer that smelled of dust and chalk, the teacher was on her feet, giving me a standing ovation.
She had never reacted like this before. I could tell my classmate were confounded, perhaps even a little jealous. They were clearly not as impressed with whatever had come out of my mouth as the teacher was, but, being polite and intelligent enough to understand her enthusiasm should translate to theirs, they joined in, clapping. I have no idea what I said, but apparently, my doom and gloom rendition of a world without water and the perpetual wars that would follow had struck a nerve with Miss.
The next distinct memory of such an out-of-body experience was during my interview to become a Rotary Exchange student. I was sixteen, a senior in high school. I was dating my first boyfriend, Stephan Le Roux, and had become ambivalent about leaving South Africa (him, really) for a whole year to lands unknown, but the competitive part of me wanted to prove that I could win. That I could be picked over my more mature (and likely better balanced) compatriots.
Being a Rotary Exchange student from South Africa in 1988 came with baggage. Big White Apartheid Baggage. Even if you were anti-apartheid, as I was, you had to be able to frame the despicable Nationalist policies with some semblance of nuance. Like being able to defend the homelands—the shithole areas designated as “tribal lands”—by arguing that most of South Africa was a shithole, so they weren’t being especially punished by being banished to these inarable places.
My parents, who both worked for the Department of Foreign Affairs at the time, prepped me good and hard, sitting around the kitchen table every evening after dinner.
Ma: “What percentage of South Africa is arable?”
Me: “Less than 27%”
Pa: “Good, good. Remember to point out that means lots of areas are less than optimal for human occupation, not just the homelands. Now, let’s go over Nelson Mandela again.”
I went into that interview with the Rotary Club of Hatfield as well prepared as Pik Botha–imagine a mashup between Robert McNamara and Dick Cheney: charming and dangerous, and not only when hunting–the South African Minister of Foreign Affairs would have been.
I nailed the interview. Except, once again, I have no idea what I said. The interviewers were concerned about my relative youth—there’s a big difference between sending a sixteen year old versus an eighteen year old overseas on their own, as we know from the Permissible Age to Murder Citizens (AKA, the draft)—so the Rotary committee decided I would be ineligible for a full year scholarship, but offered me six weeks in Germany instead.
I’d been to Germany before. The boyfriend won out.
Stephan and I wrote and performed anti-establishment plays during our ‘Varsity years. One, called “Die Klein Krul Swart Haartjie”—The Tiny Curly Black Hair, which referred to a pubic hair, not an afro, as people who refused to attend failed to grasp—was banned on campus, and pushed to the Fringe of the Grahamstown Arts Festival, the largest arts festival in the Southern Hemisphere. Relegated to a 2 p.m. slot at a primary school miles from the downtown action, we were not the greatest of successes, although I did learn the meaning of a new word from a review we received—one that said the show was in the spirit of “Not the Nine o’Clock News.”
“Scatological?” Stephan asked, reading the review, English being his second language. “Is that good?”
“Very,” I said firmly, making a mental note to consult the Oxford English when I got home.
During that Grahamstown performance, my stage fright took an even more alarming turn, in that I literally forgot my lines. The final coup de grace of the scene was supposed to be mine, a zinger at the end, in a devastatingly critical and clever piece about the power of individuality as it triumphs over the state.
“You can’t fit a square peg in a round hole,” I was supposed to say.
But nothing came out. My mind dissolved into blankness, my synapses reaching out, searching for the answer, the words I knew came next, but all there was only a blindingly chasm of nothingness, a dark, empty blackboard stretching in my brain. Every word I knew, any word, just beyond reach.
Other times, it happened in court. When I started practicing law during my articleship, I took Legal Aid Board cases in the townships that no one else at the firm would touch. The country was on the cusp of radical changes, with a new Constitution in the works. One time, I represented a nineteen year old boy-child, who had been in jail since he was sixteen, who had not even been given a trial date yet. Even though the Constitution had not yet been adopted, we’d learned about all these newfangled, shiny human rights in Law School, and I made an impassioned plea in Court as to why the judge should release this young defendant on bail. Except I don’t recall a word. For me, that day: Blankety, blank, blank.
You cannot fit a square peg in a round hole.
You cannot fit a square peg in a round hole.
You cannot fit a square peg in a round hole.
Will it ever end?
Part of the issue is I have an artist’s heart and a lawyer’s brain. I once saw a Venn Diagram with two circles. One was, “Overwhelming Narcissism,” and the other, “Crushing Insecurity.” The part where they overlapped: “Art.” And so, I disregard my betraying brain, and I keep pushing through my fears towards my heart, towards my art.
Now in 2019, eight years from that time I took the stage at PorcFest, I get ready for my talk, which officially kicks off the 16th annual Porcupine Freedom Festival. In these ensuing years, I have quit drinking alcohol, which means I no longer get to drown my stage fright in amnesia-inducing booze. It means I no longer have to take a swig of tequila in the car in the parking lot at 8:30AM before heading into the NHPR office to be pilloried for believing in freedom, peace, and prosperity. I also no longer take prescription beta blockers to alleviate the stage fright, which helped with the symptoms of my anxiety, but for some reason made me sweat like a junkie in withdrawal–not a great look for TV! And, I haven’t vomited prior to an interview since 2016!
My positive life choices over the past two years (Keto diet, Bikram yoga, and ENOUGH SLEEP) means I have a new clarity, and yet, I am still nervous as hell, and, of course, not as prepared as I should be. But whyyyyyy!?!? On the Ouma scale, I’d say I’m at: “Partial Preparation Makes for Somewhat Passable Performance.”
I ask myself why I keep pushing. Why subject myself to this terror? Why don’t I just give up and say, Public Life is Not for Me (says the woman who wants that Senate seat!)? But I know why… Because I have important ideas to share and a unique voice to share them with. A voice that may tremble, a woman who may cry on stage when talking about what brought her to New Hampshire, and what broke and healed her on the journey to where she is today. I keep pushing because to give up would be to admit defeat, to say I can’t improve, when I know, and have proved to myself, that I can. Better… not perfect. But improving, consciously, actively, by choice, and hard work… I am becoming a better me.
[Stay tuned for the video of my 2019 PorcFest talk coming soon, “How I learned to stop faking it and become a better me.”]
Last week, we were ready, willing and able for arguments regarding the illegal police cameras being proposed downtown. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond our control, the matter has been postponed and another judge was assigned to the hearing, which will now take place on July 9th.
The Union Leader covered the delay here, mentioning the fact that the City of Manchester has argued that several other jurisdictions are already using cameras, so it must be A-OK. Following this logic, if a cop bust you for speeding, you can argue it’s OK because other people were speeding and breaking the law, too… right?
Police Department’s latest defense for its downtown surveillance cameras: At least five other communities do it. A wrinkle to their argument: Milford, Concord, Exeter, Salem and Claremont stream their video feeds on the internet for all to see — usually for promotional reasons. Manchester city officials named the five communities in a 10-page legal brief filed Monday in Hillsborough County Superior Court. The brief is a response to a lawsuit filed earlier this month by civil libertarians challenging plans for police surveillance cameras on Elm Street.