Thursday, August 2, 2007

Et tu, Bruno?

While I’ve mostly tried to remain fairly light-hearted about the Reggae controversy, Carol Bruno’s pull-quote on the cover of this week’s Independent deserves a less-than-light-hearted response.

It’s bullshit, Carol, and you know it. Bullshit. And shame on the Independent for putting it on the front page on the Reggae week issue with no counter-point. Shame on both of you.

The quote in question: “I and most of the people working on this festival are members of the Mateel, and we feel unified—we are all the Mateel too.”

Sorry Carol, no you’re not. You may in fact be a member, but you are not speaking as a member as long as you’re speaking for Reggae Rising or People Productions. In the article, you were speaking for P.P. and R.R. You were not being interviewed as a member of the Mateel and you cannot and do not speak for members of the Mateel. Tom Dimmick has tried to make the same “we’re all the Mateel” claim as have coordinators in private email lists. You all may be members of the Republican Party or the Rotary too, but that doesn’t mean you can invoke your membership in those organizations in order to promote your own private, for-profit enterprise. People Productions and Reggae Rising and Dimmick Ranch are private, profit-oriented entities. They are not the Mateel, they are not in any way under democratic control of the community and their representatives do not and cannot speak for the Mateel. To pretend to do so is disingenuous at best and Machiavellian at worst. I’m frankly dismayed to see that the local paper and other news sources are not truly “independent” enough to see through this and call bullshit.

Yes, Carol and Tom and all you loyal coordinators, you may feel “unified” amongst yourselves, but you are not promoting unity in this community. You are stealing something that is not yours. I truly hope the courts think so as well.

KMUD NEWS FLASH! “Reggae Rising 85% sold out.” Actually, I’ve always thought that Reggae Rising has been 100% sold out to greed from the very beginning.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Laugh At The Laminati! Shiny Medallions For All!



I have a two-part plan of action to strike fear in the hearts of the Laminati. First, as a fundraiser, the Mateelians should print up “Reggae On The River 2007” laminates and sell them for, say, $20 each. That way, those who like to keep their laminates as souvenirs will have a complete set. It’s also a way for people to publicly show their support while raising money for the community center.

The second part is to print up laminates with a picture of planet Earth, with a choice of passes available, such as, “All Access, “Guest,” “Performer” or “Security.” Everyone could have the laminate that corresponds to the “shift” they see themselves doing on this planet. These could be given out for free by the thousands to whoever wanted one, thereby completely democratizing the distribution of laminates while subtly making fun of the original Laminati and their fetish objects.

Give everyone in Humboldtistan a shiny medallion and, essentially, no one has one. If done right, it will become embarrassing to be seen in public with a Dimikisbadi medallion because it would seem that such people don’t get the joke that they are the brunt of.

Alas, if we manage to get over ourselves and our medallions, humans (and especially Humboldtistanis) being what we are, some or other group would find some other way to set themselves apart. You’d think maybe we’d have gotten over all that by now, but old habits die hard.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Reggae On The Rubicon


Today I went south, over the border into Mendocinostan to do some work for a friend. While the trip went without incident, I had to be extremely alert while traversing the border region. The area has been the scene of recent conflict. Regaeishmir, a tribal territory on the north side of the border has been trying to fend off a hostile annexation attempt by the People of Dimikisbad, just to the south. After a bitter struggle, is seems that the Mateelians of Regaeishmir have temporarily conceded, though they have vowed to reorganize and take back the resources that many, or possibly a majority of, Humboldtistanis believe are rightly theirs.

This conflict came to a head recently when a dispute broke out over the payment of tribute by the People of Dimikisbad to the Mateelians. The Mateelians believed they were being unlawfully denied access to prophets important to the Mateelian community. This, they said, was in violation of historical agreements, so they purged some of the Dimikisbad ministers who had been hired to manage this region of Mateelian territory. This led to deep divisions within the larger Humboldtistan community. Long-standing clan allegiances and loyalties to tribal chiefs became more important than fact, reason and negotiation in determining public opinion.

Unfortunately for the Mateelians, many of the Dimikisbad sub-ministers, a cronyist cadre often referred to derisively by some Mateelians as The Laminati, sided with Dimikisbad’s People early on. It seems that most Humboldtistanis are either afraid to aggravate the Laminati, hoping one day to also be able to wear the coveted, shiny medallion signifying Laminati status. As a result, many, many people are unwilling to speak out against the takeover, even those who know it is wrong. This has allowed the Dimikisbadis to continue their occupation of Reggaeishmir, continue their piracy and to seize the prophets for themselves. They have now renamed the region, thereby taking the final step in their long-term plan of cleansing the Mateelians from Reggaeishmir.

The leaders of Dimikisbad and their supporters often speak of their actions in the most altruistic terms, attempting to hide the obvious reality of piracy and expropriation. They claim that their takeover is for the betterment of Reggaeishmir and, therefore, the whole Humboldtistan community. What invading army or corporate takeover artist doesn’t claim only the most charitable of intentions? Some occupying forces actually believe their actions are in the people’s best interest while others are just cynical liars. Either way, the effect is the same. In Reggaeishmir, some of the formerly ousted ministers actually call themselves The People and have been going out of their way to try and confuse the distinction between the best interests of the people and the undemocratic, proprietary interests of The People.

Some Laminati and their loyalists claim that their support for the take-over is “not political,” that they are “not taking sides” and that they are just doing their jobs in Reggaeishmir as usual. But when the actions of a small cabal of Dimikisbadis cause such controversy and division in the community, working with them becomes a political act, like it or not. By aiding the Dimikisbadis in any way, Humboldtistanis are not only lending practical support to the take-over, but—and this is probably far more important—lending moral support as well. If enough Humboldtistanis continue to work in Reggaeshmir as if nothing had happened, it makes it easier for the Dimikisbadis to perpetuate the lie that what they’re doing is for the betterment of Reggaeishmir and therefore all of Humboldtistan.

While most of the Laminati have wholeheartedly joined in the take-over and occupation, many of the day laborers who live in Humboldtistan and travel to Reggaeishmir to work have refused to participate since the takeover. I have worked in Reggaeishmir the last four years, but have joined in the walkout this year. For me, to cross that river would feel like crossing a picket line as a scab worker, something I can’t bring myself to do, not even if offered a shiny Laminati medallion as a bribe. Recently, there has been talk of direct action by a group calling itself something like Reggaeishmir Uprising. However, I’m worried that their actions may not be that well thought out, leading to some embarrassing and pointless confrontations.

It is with some trepidation that I post this. In doing so, I’ve now outed myself as allied with the Mateelian cause. This matters because Southern Humboldtistan is a small town and it is hard to be involved in community life if you run afoul of the Laminati. They and their loyalists sit on many boards of directors of organizations, they are involved in local media and politics, they run many local events and businesses and so on. This is similar to any cliquish small town where far too many people want to be big fish in their own little pond. I find it appalling that speaking out against something in Humboldtistan can get you blacklisted. Perhaps I’m being paranoid or hyperbolic, but I regularly speak with many Humboldtistanis who, for one reason or another are afraid to speak out against the take-over of Reggaeishmir. If Humboldtistan didn’t pretend to be such a progressive, peaceful place, it wouldn’t bother me so much. It’s hypocrisy I detest. I guess that after all these years I’m still a bit surprised when hypocrisy stares me in the face.

While, in public, the Dimikisbadis crow confidently about how they will manage Reggaeishmir for the good of all of Humboldistan, it is not a done deal. The Mateelians are pursuing legal avenues for redress while the resistance to the occupation is growing daily in Humboldtistan. This has been brewing for a decade. When the Dimikisbadis crossed the Eel River and annexed Reggaeishmir, they also crossed a Rubicon of sorts. No matter how many people in the Humboldtistan community call for reconciliation, it can probably never go back the way it has been. On the one hand, the Mateelians seem to view this as an opportunity to reclaim partially lost territory. On the other, the People seem to be trying to complete and solidify what, for over a decade, had been only a partial control of Reggaeishmir. The actions of both sides seem to say, “I challenge you to a duel.” Whether it is decided in the courts or the streets, this fight will probably decide the ownership of Reggaeishmir once and for all.


[Note to outsiders: If you don’t have a clue what this post is about, you probably don’t want to bother to find out. But if you want one side of the story, check out http://mateel.org/home.php and for details on the conflict and very recent events: http://mateel.org/rotr.php ]

Monday, May 14, 2007

Nuthin' but a axe

Sometime within the last couple weeks, a neighbor got his house cleaned out—as in robbed. He lost virtually everything. He “knew” that the car-chopper-upper family just down the street had done it, but had no proof. In my experience, whenever I’ve been ripped off, either they did it or knew who did. On a couple of occasions I was able to apply some pressure and get them to steal my stuff back for me.

Well, one day late last week, I looked over and noticed a couple Sheriff’s vehicles and the local sergeant over at the house. Turns out they did a “routine” parole check on one of the family members and they conveniently had brought a detailed list of my neighbor’s stolen property. And there it was, in the house, along with 15 rifles and some handguns and 80 lbs of weed. They certainly didn’t grow it themselves, so you can bet it was also stolen. My friend got most of his stuff back, the cops arrested two of the thieves in the den, the parolee is back in prison and someone who just lost 80 lbs of pot now knows who to go after. It ain’t pretty…for them. For the rest of the neighborhood it’s a great improvement.

(Note: the details of the arrest came to me second or third-hand. I’ll confirm and post an update, if it matters, when I can.)

The constant gunfire had gotten totally out of hand in the last couple months. The little hamlet of Tweeker Creek where we live is just too small and populated to be shooting like that. Any bullet that missed whatever target they were shooting at over there or any ricochet could easily travel all the way across town. Funny thing is, had I not been on my way out to a meeting when I saw the Sheriff, I might have gone over and asked the deputies to ask the shooters to quiet it down. Guess I don’t have to worry about that for a while.

Indeed, it is much quieter since the arrests. Except for the one guy in back cutting up cars into little pieces. He’s still at it. Every week or so, the local disposal company drops off another empty 20 yard dumpster and hauls off the other one full of scrap. Either the County made them clean it up or the price of scrap iron has risen to the point (largely due to demand from China) that it is profitable to sell it. I figure that based on the price of iron, minus the cost of hauling it to Oakland, divided by the time it takes to cut up a car and hand load it into a dumpster, that they must be making all of 50 cents/hour.

Meanwhile, they were recently in possession of something like $200K worth of stolen weed and additional value in guns and other stolen property, but they’re working day and night cutting up cars for 50 cents/hour. Um…is there something wrong with this picture? I guess you shouldn’t expect much from people who are so stupid as to rip off their neighbors and keep the stolen goods right there in their house. While they’re on parole. While shooting off guns day and night. While also holding a boat-load of stolen weed. While they have a reputation for violating every law on the book. I’ve talked to several neighbors and we’re all enjoying the quiet since the arrest.

Speaking of chopping up cars, I have to relate this story from many years ago, shortly after I moved in to Tweeker Creek. One of the car-chopper family was out by the road and I asked him, “so, why do you chop up cars with an axe?” With a completely straight face and narry a touch of irony, he replied, “I ain’t got nuthin’ but a axe.”



Friday, May 11, 2007

Inflatable burning water tanks

There is so much I want to write about here that it’s hard to know where to start. An overview seems appropriate. So, let’s start with an overview from 4,000 feet. I got to go for a small plane ride a couple days ago with a local pilot. First time in over twenty years I’d been in anything but a jet and first time I’d seen Southern Humboldtistan from the air.

We took off from Garberville airport in late morning, flew west up Briceland Road, circled around Briceland, headed out over Whitethorn and Whale Gulch to the sea, flew part way up Black Sands Beach then up and over the King Range, over the Mattole, Duty Ridge, Elk Ridge and Salmon Creek. We flew into the Eel River Valley over Meyers Flat, crossed over into the Middle Fork drainage for a bit, back into the South Fork then swung downstream high above Miranda, Phillipsville and eventually over Garberville. One last loop above Benbow and around the hill to come back in to Garberville airport from the south and we were back.

There were three things that struck me right off about seeing this place from high up—besides that it was quite pretty. The first was the sheer number of people living in the hills around here. Sometimes on a winter night, when everyone has lights on at 5pm (powered by their independent energy systems) and you’re standing on a high ridge, you can get some sense of the hill population. Still, I had no idea until I was able to look straight down. There are a lot of people in them thar hills.

And everyone of us is taking water from Redwood Creek or Salmon Creek or the Eel River or the Mattole or whatever watershed we live in. Whether it’s from a spring, a well or pumped directly from the creek, it’s not going into the river. Seeing the number of homesteads from a few thousand feet, it’s easy to see why the creeks around here dry up in summer. It’s not logging or grazing or dams or export of water to L.A. It’s homesteaders. We all know this, but it’s hard to grok the cumulative impact of “my little spring diversion” until you see all of them at once. I had a similar epiphany flying into Seattle in a jet at rush hour last winter. In every direction, on every road for as far as the eye could see (which is quite far from that altitude) there were car lights. Little global warming machines, by the hundreds of thousands, each spewing exhaust.

There are a damn lot of us, but it takes seeing it all at once to really get perspective on the impacts.

The next major revelation was the embarrassing number of what I refer to as “Inflatable Homesteads™.” I’ve always thought that someone could make a business out of marketing the whole package: small beat-up trailer; 30’x40’ greenhouse and enough soil to fill 5 trenches 30’ long; 500’ of curtilage fence; a pre-filled-out Proposition 215 doctor’s recommendation; 20 plants; a dead car and some other props to make it seem like someone lives there. Just add water.

Lots and lots of water, all coming out of the creek. What I didn’t see enough of was water storage tanks. We do not live in a desert and there is absolutely no water shortage. We get enough winter rains here (60” to 200” depending on the watershed) that we could have rice paddies and swimming pools if we wanted to. All we have to do is store water during the winter rainy season. I’d like to think that people who are putting up all the Inflatable Homesteads™ would also include enough water tanks to get them through the summer without sucking the creeks dry. Not like they can’t afford it. (We’ll revisit this subject in more detail some other time.)

Lastly, I was amazed at the lack of fire-kill in the forest from the famous Canoe and Honeydew Fires of a few years ago. Despite the number of total acres burned, very few trees died. I had pictured vast swaths of dead trees, but the reality was that most of the fire burned through the understory, leaving the largest trees standing. Here and there, patches of completely dead trees stand weathered and gray above the green of the new brush and young trees below. But these are isolated patches, the textbook “mosaic” pattern that fire usually leaves in its wake.

Along some ridge tops, the fire restored meadowland that had become grown over since the end of Native American burning and the beginning of systematic fire suppression in the last century. When Douglas firs grow in a dense forest, they usually have few if any lower limbs. The dearth of sunlight provides no incentive for the plant to put sunlight-catching leaves way down there. But out at the meadow’s edge, the trees have branches to the ground. When a fire moves through the grass, those branches provide a ready “ladder” for the fire to move up high in the tree and burn hot enough to kill it. Once the trees on the forest’s edge die, the meadow plants recolonize the newly opened ground. Meadows, fire and the edge of the forest are in a dynamic, feedback-heavy relationship. Not “balance,” but a somewhat predictable cycle of constant change.

I haven’t read or heard anything about any studies being done (I’m sure they have been), but my guess is that once all the hoopla over Sudden Oak Death dies down, we’ll come to see that the result is likewise not total devastation, but a wild-fire-like mosaic of living and dead trees. Most likely, some tanoaks (the species most susceptible to the fungus) will survive and eventually a resistance will develop through natural selection. Of course, I’m hoping my big, lovely live oaks don’t succumb once the fungus makes its way up the creek to my place, but I’m not near as worried as I was a couple years ago when the hype was raging like wildfire.

Speaking of touching down on solid ground, did anyone else feel the earthquake the other night? I was up writing and felt three of them. First time in a while and it was a bit disconcerting. Since the last shake, I’ve acquired some electronic devices that I had to think about. Before going to bed, I thought it would be a good idea to put the computer, printer and so on in safe places where they wouldn’t fall to the floor if a big shake happened during the night. I’ve always liked living where even the ground under your feet won’t hold still.

The neighbors seem to have stopped chopping up cars, so maybe I can get to sleep.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Intro to Humboldtistan Daily News

Greetings From Most Glorious Humboldtistan!
A blog about life behind Northern California’s Redwood Curtain.


Why “Humboldtistan?”

Imagine a remote, mountainous nation, somewhat isolated and cut off from the rest of the world, technologically behind the times, governed by tribal, warring factions vying for power over obscure local institutions virtually unheard of in the outside world. In these internecine conflicts, democratic process is routinely subverted by manipulative, insider cliques. Much of this remote region’s population seems to be living in a bygone era, clinging to archaic worldviews and dated traditions. Strangers are viewed with distrust by a populace fearful of outsiders and it is difficult for newcomers to move there or get established unless they are accepted into one of the secretive social circles. Perhaps the most cosmopolitan aspect of this country is its export of illegal drugs. This persists despite the occasional and ineffective intervention attempts by U.S. government forces or their local proxies. The ever-widening economic divide, between those who have drug profits and those who do not, creates a situation where conspicuous wealth resides side-by-side with poverty, hunger and homelessness. The remoteness and isolation from the rest of the world creates a situation where technology, information, culture, health care and common services and material goods that most modern societies take for granted are often difficult to find or overly expensive to obtain. Superstition is rampant.

Welcome to Humboldtistan, California, U.S.A.

Don’t get me wrong, I love our little country and its quaint and quirky ways. I love the Eel River, the Redwoods, the nice summers, the views, the Lost Coast, the salmon, the rebellious, outlaw culture where most anything goes. I’m grateful for fact that diversity of opinions and cultures is widely tolerated. I appreciate those aspects of small-town life that are conducive to community and a sense of belonging. There is a lot here that makes it a good place to live, but there is also a lot missing and a lot that needs changing. There is trouble in paradise and this is my opinion on it.

Since I live in Southern Humboldt, that’s primarily what I intend to write about. The above description of the mythical Humboldtistan is based on my view of SoHum and Northern Mendocino and The Community Formerly Known As Mateel (Tcfkam). There are things here that we all take for granted that others will find quaint, bizarre or terrifying—or all of these at once. I know this because I travel frequently and whenever I describe this place, the reactions are always extreme. Like, for example, when I matter-of-factly described how my neighbors stay up all night cutting up cars with axes. By my listeners’ jaw-dropping expressions of disbelief, you’d think cutting up cars with axes in the middle of the night wasn’t normal behavior. Huh? It’s not? Oh. Welcome to Humboldtistan.