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Tuesday, November 30, 2021

The Sucker Punch

 By Anna Von Reitz

When I was a kid out on the playground beating up bullies, I had a series of strategies to choose from.  

My favorite and most successful ruse involved turning my back on my adversary, which enrages bullies and makes them prone to lose their balance.  They come rushing in on the seemingly open target.  And then.... 

Did my elbow catch you in the ribs as I was turning to face your unprovoked assault?  And, as I fell to the ground, flat on my back, did my boots hit your stomach and fling you like a sack of flour clean over my head?  And then, as I scrambled to my feet, did I lose my balance and....
....pardon me, did the heel of my hand catch your chin?

Those were the days when life was simple and brutal.  The bullies rose up and the bullies got knocked down.... and most of the time they weren't quite sure what hit them.  They would wander around for a few days looking dazed and suspicious, but with the constant reminder that I was unpleasant to bump into. 

On a few-- very few-- occasions, they came back for seconds.  Usually by then they were convinced that I was a witch or some kind of evil small demon, possessed by something more than the hand-to-hand combat skills my Uncle Jesse, a WWII Navy Ensign and post-war Merchant Mariner, taught me.  

He's the same one who gave me the Mohawk haircut when I was seven. 

Go figure.  

My gentlemanly Father abhorred the thought that his little girl would ever have to lift her delicate hand in self-defense.  Uncle Jesse just rolled his eyes and took me aside, muttering something to the effect that my Father still lived in the Nineteenth Century when men were men. 

"Well....what are they now, Uncle Jesse?" 

"Idiots.  So, this is what you do...."

By age seven I had more Sucker Punches in my arsenal than most grown men will ever know.  

I didn't know it, but my Uncle Jesse was an infamous fighter and got kicked out of the Navy because he won a boxing match against an Admiral's son.  And it didn't bother him, either. 

He just went directly into the Merchant Marine Service, which welcomed him with open arms ---- and, as he often observed, far better pay and benefits. 

But I digress.  

What goes on in a courtroom really isn't that much different than a playground.  The bullies wear suits and sometimes robes, but they are bullies just the same, and just as vulnerable to lame duck sucker punches. 

Since I've been banned from the courtrooms in Boston and elsewhere, I've had to content myself with armchair participation from the second and third row seats, but the rules of engagement remain the same. 

Surprise them (akin to turning your back) and "accidentally" beat them to a pulp before they know what happened.  You have to be nice about it, of course.  Always solicitous and polite.  Never threatening or nasty.  

Know that you are not subject to any foreign law, until and unless you voluntarily enter foreign territory.  

Notice that word, "voluntarily" --- for them to claim jurisdiction, you have to enter their jurisdiction and it must be done voluntarily, so both elements --- your "presence" in their realm and the voluntary nature of that presence, must both be proven by the prosecutor, if you press the issues.    

Otherwise, you are: (a) not in any federal jurisdiction; (b) not voluntarily in any federal jurisdiction, or (c) just utilizing a "pass through service" provided by your loyal employees, and they have nothing to say about that at all. 

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Rat Watch

 By Anna Von Reitz

This is my fiftieth anniversary of Rat Watch. Every December for the past fifty years, I have stood my duty station.
I was fifteen when this began, and the subject was Zoning. The pundits of Jackson County had taken the bait in the form of a Federal Block Grant and were busy trying to "zone" every rock, tree, and fence post into three categories allowed by the federal land management scheme.
A property could be agricultural, residential, or commercial.
The problem was that our property didn't fit in any of these categories.
The parcel where our home was located was a piece of my Grandfather's much larger farm property, but in itself wasn't large enough to be termed "agricultural".
And as my Mother stoutly affirmed, we weren't "residents" on temporary assignment for the purpose of providing "essential government services", so it wasn't "residential" property, either.
God knows no commercial activity was involved.
So, we and our homestead slipped quietly through the cracks and as the members of the Jackson County Zoning Commission scratched their heads, my Mother scratched hers --- what was a "Zoning Commission" and who died and left them to rule as gods?
My Mother was never one to take being labeled lightly.
She knew that labels are intrinsically dangerous things, and that they are used for bad purposes.
Labels separate people into groups and groups can be pitted against each other; segregation can occur, discrimination can occur, all on the basis of a label like "residential" or "agricultural".
And whose business was it, what she chose to do with her land? Her grandfather didn't buy it with any labels attached. She was damned if any labels were applicable after the fact.
The whole idea of zoning was offensive in her mind, another example of government overreach, and a prime example of people sticking their noses in other people's business and abusing the mechanics of government to do the dirty work.
Now, bear in mind, we weren't running a junkyard or a pig farm or causing any "public nuisance" --- any battle was entirely theoretical. Our inoffensive and neatly kempt little house and fenced five acre yard was not the kind of property that raised any eyebrows.
It was just the principle of the thing, the invasiveness and the labeling and the government involvement that offended my Mother.
Despite her ire, and her unanswerable objections, the Zoning Commission continued its slow plod toward destruction ---and receipt of the block grant money attached to their progress.
I was a sophomore in High School with other things on my mind, but my Mother made me stop by the County Administrative Office every afternoon and quickly scan the bulletin board for meeting notices and agendas.
The District Attorney, whose office door was exactly opposite the bulletin board, took note of the strange young girl coming in every day and standing there reading the public notices and sheriff's department reports.
Ella Johnson cited for drunk and disorderly..... Fergus McClane cited for keeping wild animals in a pen....
Finally, one afternoon in November, he popped his balding head out of his office and asked what I was so interested in?
The answer, Zoning Commission Meetings, made his skinny eyebrows raise. Who knew that teenagers were interested in such topics?
He went back into his office without a whimper, though he cast a glance back over his shoulder, as if to mark me for later observation, and I continued my solitary daily watch.
Finally, there was action, on the 23rd of December, the day before Christmas Eve, a meeting of the Jackson County Zoning Commission was scheduled for two o'clock in the afternoon, a Wednesday.
I carried this news home to Mother. I was almost excited myself. Almost.
"Hmmmff!" she sniffed, "Typical....."
"Typical of what?"
"Bureaucrats," Mother glanced at me and shook her head. "They always pull stuff at the last moment, just before Christmas. That's when they passed the Federal Reserve Act, you know."
No, I did not know. Nor, at that moment, did I care. Though it did strike me as strange that the meeting was scheduled for mid-afternoon. Most public meetings took place in the evenings to encourage attendance, a fact that I dutifully noted.
And sure enough, on that fateful day, the Jackson County Zoning Commission had the audacity to try to label our homestead "residential" property, only to run headlong into a small freight train.
"I am not a resident and my home is not residential property."
The debate, I am told, went on for three hours. The result was that the Jackson County Zoning Commission established a fourth category, "Miscellaneous", and our house was the first non-descript entry in it.
My Mother was proud as a dog with a new bone.
This was my introduction to Rat Watch and the nip-and-parry warfare of Man against Bureaucrat, which my Mother assured me, reached a crescendo every December.
It's as if the Dark Forces gather speed and try to rush all the rotten stuff through in the days just before Christmas, while everyone else is distracted by the holidays.
As she put it, "the rest of us" have to stay on our toes.
So far as I could see, it was just her keeping watch. Nobody else showed up for that Zoning Commission Meeting. The rest of Jackson County hurried on, enjoying the Christmas decorations and buying presents and planning Christmas dinners.
They'd never know that the "Miscellaneous" category existed because of my Mother, and in the years to come, it would be the only refuge from Property Taxes in the entire system.
But I knew. And she knew. And every December, she kept watch.
We still do our Public Duty. We still keep the Rat Watch in December, and increasingly, other Americans are taking up the Vocal Vigil, checking the local committee meetings and Congressional actions, ready to pounce.
"Well," my Mother would sputter, somewhat indignantly, "if we don't do it, who will?"
She had a point. So, I reluctantly took up my post beside her, and as the years went on, I realized that she was right. They really do try to push through no end of garbage in December.
Much later in life, as I was reading egregious Acts of Congress and nasty bills passed by State-of-State Legislatures around the country, I'd check the dates---- and sure enough, December, December, December.
So, this December, like every December, I and my Non-Party Affiliated friends will stand the watch again, as we do every year.
Our networks will be out, restlessly searching the airwaves and reading the electronic bulletin boards, going to meetings, issuing our Public Comments, passing on the news.
It isn't easy or fun, but like so much else in life, it has to be done.
Please think about the Rat Watchers engaged in their thankless task this December, think about their hours spent away from their families at meetings held at odd hours on dark afternoons and evenings, their hours spent writing public comment responses and alternate news blurbs.
It's because of these Watchmen (and Watchwomen) that so much of the evil has been kept in check or moderated.
Think of Granna girding up for this December's Rat Watch and not exactly celebrating fifty years on the job.
This year is likely to be one of the worst on record for bureaucratic mischief.
We need more young people to wake up and join us and carry on, and we need your support in whatever ways and forms you can give it. Reports are already coming in from all over the country --- tax increases, resource grabs, vaccine "passports" and similar atrocities against the public interest.
While you are tying up ribbons and having another Hot Buttered Rum, you know what we'll be doing.
If you can, please consider a Special Donation to the only Government that protects you and your assets--- not only in December, but all year long.
Their yearly push is on, but so is our push back.
Our legal teams are busy developing the means for average people to defend their interests against the big corporations -- and take the corporations down.
Our banking teams are busy pushing through the bureaucratic red tape to make sure that relief finally reaches the people of this country --- not welfare, but money and exemptions you've been owed for generations.
Rat Watch involves a lot of Senior Citizens every year and many of them don't have any extra money to attend meetings, especially this time of year. It also involves students, who have even less to spare.
We have to car pool and ride buses, and increasingly, buy computers and computer services so that our people can attend teleconferenced public meetings--- and make sure that the public's voice is heard even in deep dark December.
If you can, please support this year's Rat Watch. Send your prayers and a contribution toward this special yearly effort to:
Anna Maria Riezinger
In care of: Box 520994
Big Lake, Alaska 99652

Our websites also have donate buttons you can use at: www.annavonreitz.com and www.TheAmericanStatesAssembly.net --- just send a message that its for "Rat Watch" and it will get where it needs to go.

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The Demonic Dialectic

 By Anna Von Reitz

If you seek freedom, they will promote "liberty" instead.
If you speak of the "United States", they will create 350 versions of things called "United States" and leave you to describe your meaning in great detail, or, let them decide which United States you are talking about.
If you establish a Constitution and bind them to this lofty contract and its guarantees owed to all Americans, they will redefine "Americans" so that the contract no longer applies to you.
If you set out to assemble and restore your lawful State of the Union, they will try to redefine "State" and "Union" both, and offer you a commercial corporation, instead.
Oh, and that commercial corporation will be owned and controlled by them.
They will take a State-of-State business organization like the State of California, describe it as a "Confederate State" and then start calling it a "State" even though it isn't a State.
They will redefine "person" to mean "corporation".
They will redefine "vaccine" to mean "gene therapy", then redefine "bioweapon" as "gene therapy".
If you support a Christian Monarchy, they'll cross their fingers and sneak off the Throne by signing legislation, and then go sit on The Chair of the Estates for 68 years, instead.
If you are a Municipal citizen of the United States, they will mistake you as a U.S. Citizen.
And if you are a U.S. Citizen, they will mistake you for a Municipal citizen of the United States.
And if that doesn't work, they will mistake you for a US CITIZEN and a commercial corporation to boot.
They will say that your freedom to contract led you to contract with them, when you don't even know who they are or what they represent.
Via the magic of The Federal Reserve Act, they will claim that you agreed to be a "Transactor" in Commerce, and claim that brings you under their regulatory power delegated by the Interstate Commerce Clause of the same Constitution they evaded by redefining you as a Federal (or National) citizen.
They will redefine your State Militia as a "National Guard" and steal control of it.
They will redefine your State Assembly as a National Assembly State and take control of it.
They will redefine your cities as "Municipalities" and do the same thing.
They will accept that you are a Ward of the Queen on the High Seas, and then redefine "High Seas" to include every speck of dry land.
The hypocrites will even take the trouble to move the High Water Monuments to the mountain tops and you will have to haul them down to the beach again.
They will redefine your family physician as a Medical Doctor.
They will then define a Medical Doctor as a Uniformed Officer and conscript him or her into their military service.
They will then direct their "Uniformed Officers" to kill you, and you will be none the wiser.
And they will claim that this is perfectly legal, because they have misidentified you as an Enemy Combatant. And besides, you volunteered to be injected and you volunteered to take the drugs.
Even after their "Congress" declared that nobody is accountable for the results.
Just like you volunteered to pay Federal Income Taxes, when you have no Federal Income at all.
Your right to contract shall not be abridged, unless the contract is the Constitution they are supposed to be obeying.
If you have a Federation of States operating as The United States of America, they will name their own business franchise "the" United States of America, Incorporated, and try to confuse the two.
If you loan them a specific proportion of your war flag to use while engaged in their delegated duties and you define it most carefully in their own law so that everyone knows what a Title IV flag is, they will still try to pretend that it's their flag in the sense of owning it, and claim that it is the only valid version of your flag in existence.
If you loan them actual money --- gold and silver, they will pay you back in notes (I.O.U.s).
If you loan them credit (Federal Reserve Notes), they will pay you back in more credit, and charge it off to you a second time, and a third time, and a fourth time.....
Then they will go bankrupt and name you as their Co-Signer on all their I.O.U.s.
Death will be euphemistically referred to as "passing on".
The Common Cold will be renamed "Covid 19".
"Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome" known as AIDS will be renamed HIV.
HIV will be renamed Covid-19. (Notice the hyphen.)
And now you know why the Puritans called the people who employ these practices the "Masters of Deceit" and why they refused to let Bar Attorneys live in their communities.
You also know why the Scots call Bar Attorneys "Devils" to this day.
And why Bill Clinton said, "it depends on what your definition of "is" --- is."
And what counts as "sex".
And what does "of" mean?
There is no truth in these people, none at all; they live and breathe deceit from dusk until dawn, and they smirk and they smile at their gullible neighbors, so honest, so ripe for the picking or the slaughter, either one.

Until you wake up. Until you grab them by the throat. Until you object. Until you stop volunteering.

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See this article and over 3400 others on Anna's website here: www.annavonreitz.com

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