The Mystery of the Disappearing Reporter: a “Deconstructed Myth”

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Did no one see me?  You never know.

Look at other stuff, like snow.

When its falling through the air

you can see  the flakes right  there.

But when flakes land upon the ground

they disappear: an icy mound.

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Who can believe in what they see?

How can I prove that I am me?

In all those years that passed on by

Wasn’t  I  lit up  by  the sky?

If I wasn’t, tell me why.

Oh, that is why the light is there:

“This is a snowflake, that  is Claire” –

 

No copies  of  either: anywhere

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IT’S YOUR ACLU! BUT LEAVE THE THINKING TO US/O’BRIEN2014

 

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Trouble in Metropolis: an announcement

 

The Daily Planet

TROUBLE IN METROPOLIS

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​CLICK HERE:  The Daily Planet
 
Please try out my newspaper, a compilation of articles that interest me (not meant to be comprehensive) from around the world. Today’s issue features Noam Chomsky,  Public Enemy, The Liberator Magazine, Colorlines, Angela Grant, Gaza Writes Back, Chuck D. and much more.
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Tracking Truth: a final report to the fan club’s membership from its national president

T R U T H

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I N T E R N A T I O N A L

I was a lot smarter before I was recruited by the American Chapter of Truth’s International Fan Club. Until then, I like to think I did my share of big thinking. Well, not BIG thinking, but certainly nuanced, certainly multi-dimensional, characterized by a superior plasticity capable of applied abstraction,  theoretical awe, and the synthesis of five or six simultaneous subtexts with their oppositional intersections.
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B I G T H I N K I N G

Things got more complicated (but not more complex) and more simplistic following my election by acclamation to the club’s presidency two years ago. Now, when it comes to Truth, I spend most of my time on the intellectual equivalent of a middle school playground.   Over and over, I tell the same simple story of an outrageous bluff pulled off by a powerful media elite for the specific purpose of permanently discrediting me. Over and over I point out the swift efficiency with which a handful of people achieved immediate and unquestioned national media compliance. Over and over I explain that this shows an already entrenched and systemic corruption far worse than the  American public imagines.
 I’m neither believed nor told why. The narrative itself bores me to the brink of shutting down my brain, while remaining inexplicably exhausting. At times I can actually feel my brain shrink as I brace myself to repeat a basic point to someone who already understands it perfectly.
Yet I’m back again every time the recess bell rings
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MY INTELLECTUAL ARENA

Some say that I’ve developed into one of those obsessed fans, the kind whose loyalty and dedication devolves into a variation of obstructive stalking that all celebrities dread.
 Although my time on the playground may have produced a certain degree of myopia in my perception, I don’t see it, myself.
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I JUST KNOW TRUTH IS AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE. WHY DOESN’T ANYONE NOTICE WHEN IT DISAPPEARS??

The fact is, I haven’t stalked Truth so much as tried to keep track of it. Frankly, I’d had no idea that it was so absent-minded, nor so anonymous and scruffy: I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Truth wandered off unnoticed someday and forgot to return. I’ll admit that I do tend to hover a bit; however, I strongly deny all rumors of that electronic tracking device trending on Twitter last month.

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 My critics, like most people, are completely unaware of the responsibilities of a national fan club president. Lord knows the job is a thankless task: just ask the presidents of the Ayn Rand, Vanilla Ice, and Door to Door Encyclopedia Salesmen fan clubs.
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2014 National Convention of the American Chapter of Truth’s International Fan Club

 For example, at our club’s last national convention, I had to break up fist fights over jazz fusion, the gold standard, and the Chicago Cubs, then kick out the usual spies from the ACLU, and ban as frivolous the introduction of a resolution that “Truth is beauty, beauty truth, etc”.
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On top of that, I spent half the convention dealing with the Christian delegates alone: first, I barred them as a body until they submitted a group statement admitting Christianity’s historic proximity to, and familiarity with, Islāmic doctrine and culture – dating from the latter’s earliest emergence 600 years after that of Christianity’s.
I also suspended the club’s Protestant fundamentalists until they could describe the Reformation’s role in 19th century American radical abolitionism.
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The great abolitionist and international hero John Brown. Now THERE’s a Protestant!

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 By this time, all the anarchists, hip-hop artists, Palestinian children, Mississippi River tug boat crews and insane poets had left the building. As I watched them leave from an upper window, my heart filled with love, and then sank. I was left to deal, ungraciously, with a squabble between several prominent physicists and a group of Staten Island ninth graders.
The teenagers’ claim to have located the planet Krypton within a parallel universe met with vehement opposition by the scientists, who insisted that Krypton is actually located in our own galaxy.
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I’m just saying.
Anyway, I didn’t want Truth to lose its morale, which is why the paparazzi caught me trying to poke a housewarming gift of homemade brownies through Truth’s living room window recently. I was only trying to cheer it up.
Instead, Truth served me with another restraining order. Just my luck – only two months after the last one expired. I mean, jeesh! Who knew that climbing seven little stories would get people so worked up?
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The work of a fan club president never ends.

 

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IF ONLY PEOPLE WOULD PAY THIS MUCH ATTENTION WHEN I OPEN MY MOUTH

As I told the nice firemen, I thought all those people were pointing upward because that weapon of mass destruction disguised as a kite was floating by – you know, the one smuggled in by the seven-year-old Guatemalan twins picked up by the Border Patrol recently.
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More sensible neighbors climbed out of their windows to join me in a delicious snack of brownies

“Thank God the CIA told the New York Times not to fall for the kids’ ridiculous claim to be “looking for Mommy,” said the fire captain with feeling.”Every time I send my people into a burning building, I remember that a free press is worth defending.”

I saw that he had tears in his eyes and looked around somewhat desperately for Truth. It met my eyes through the thick window glass and shrugged hopelessly.
 Then Truth closed the curtains.
But not before taking a big bite of one of my brownies.
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My last glimpse of Truth on the balcony

             ______________________________________________________

Maat

Ma’at, Egyptian goddess of Truth

You know, frankly, I think Truth tends to over-react. The respective presidents of the Justice, Wisdom, and Beauty fan clubs all say it should appreciate a fan club president like me.
“You won’t catch us baking brownies for the old goats,” they said.
“Are you calling Justice an old goat?” I gasped.
“I am,” replied the Justice Fan Cub president, a nice man named Fred.  “In fact, that was my campaign slogan: ‘Justice is an old goat’ “.
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THE  OLD GOAT 
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THE OLD GOAT KEEPER:
LUCY DALGLISH, PROFESSIONAL CROOK
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PORTRAIT OF THE JOURNALISM PROFESSOR AS A CORPORATE THUG

 SENIOR ASSISTANT GOAT KEEPER AND PROFESSIONAL TOOL
SPJ PRESIDENT DAVID CUILLER,
 
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IT HAS ITS OWN GOAT HERD NOW.THIS IS NOT YOUR FATHER’S ACLU.
DO NOT MEET IT IN A DARK ALLEY 
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I stared at Fred as he told me that his club had done a lot of housecleaning.
“The first thing we did was kick out all the nonprofits who work for justice. We banned Progressives who couldn’t define that political identity with more precision, the Peace Corps, and any group that published photos of villagers gathered around drinking wells it had funded” he said.”That was a good start. Then we elected a big slate of new officers: fast food workers, Honduran children, prostitutes, Zapatistas,  mental patients, West Virginia coal miners, junkies, teenage gangsters, convicts and welfare mothers. Things have really been looking up for us ever since.”
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A new member of the Justice Fan Club’s steering committee, representing Delaware.
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 West Virginia’s coal miners survived by laboring to destroy both the mountains they love (see below) and their own bodies. Now used up by the coal companies just like other commodities, they are left to die of Black Lung Disease, with no income and no possibility of employment, surrounded by the corpses of mountains that provided generations with abundant game, fish, medicinal plants, and firewood.
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 This is the result of Mountain Top Removal Mining, which literally removes the tops of mountains, gutting the interior and making recovery impossible.
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A former coal miner from the town of Appalachia, West Virginia, is the new national treasurer of the Justice Fan Club. He is planning a class action suit against the Empire Coal Company and has organized a fiddle manufacturing collective.
________________________________________________________________
As Fred and I wound up our conversation, I had an idea.
Hmm. Maybe –
Fred read my mind.
“You know, I think you’ve been barking up the wrong tree,” he said kindly, as he handed me a business card.”Why don’t you check these people out? Truth and Justice can kill people like you.”
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The card Fred gave me was deep blue with small gold lettering and a graphic depicting the earth revolving around the sun.
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“International Fans of Verifiable Facts” I read.”Access to existing legal systems is good enough for us”
Below it, bold italics proclaimed “Personal opinions not sought. Excessive and  redundant proof not provided. Discriminatory screening standards not  accommodated. Agreements re. political support constitute an obligation to honor them.”
I’m going to my first meeting next week.
Fred made me promise not to run for president.
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THE MOMENT OF TRUTH: Logo.©2007 FOX BROADCASTING
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shame-on-you
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My last official act as president of the American chapter of Truth’s International Fan
Club was to send Truth on vacation to a distant, peaceful beach.
I got an email just yesterday.
“Having a nice time” Truth wrote, “I needed a rest. Sort of miss you.
Almost wish you were here.”
Same here, old pal.
 _________________________
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The email that “disappeared”: found in a deceased professor’s paper

 

Without Reporter’s Shield Laws, who Would be willing to Speak up?

 

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Presented at the 124th annual convention and trade show

Of The National Newspaper Association

Sept. 30 to Oct. 3, 2010, in Omaha, Neb.

By Les Anderson

Professor, Elliott School of Communication

Wichita State University, Wichita, Kan. 67260-0031 

†††  Note: This paper has been  greatly condensed, without detracting from its original meaning. My primary purpose in posting this shortened version is to emphasize the political nature of the defamatory campaign that was unleashed against me when I objected, in a civil manner, and on appropriate grounds , to the unprotected status the bill leaves reporters in rural western Kansas. It’s a “whole other country” from the eastern part of the state.

In February 2007, Doug Anstaett, executive director of the Kansas Press Association, addressed members of the Senate Judiciary Committee in the Kansas Legislature about a proposed reporters shield law.

Anstaett told the legislative committee that we in America can handle the truth, and that it is the job of professional news gatherers to do their best to deliver that truth to citizens.

The American people have shown time and again throughout our history that not only can we handle the truth, we demand it as an absolutely essential ingredient of our form of government, he said.

Without the protection afforded by the proposed reporters shield law, however, Anstaett said in 2007, sources will continue to be intimidated and will continue to choose to not come forward, and journalists will not learn what public officials and others want to hide.

The proposed shield law didnt gain much traction in Kansas for several more years. One of the problems Anstaett and the state’s journalists faced was providing real-life evidence to back up their request for new legislation.

In the fall of 2009, Anstaett, the press association and journalists in Kansas got the ammunition they needed. Claire OBrien, a reporter in Dodge City, had been subpoenaed to testify at an inquisition, where she would likely be ordered to give up her unpublished notes and her confidential source for a story in a local murder case.

According to an Associated Press story by John Hanna, the county attorney was trying to force OBrien to hand over notes from a jailhouse interview with a man charged with second-degree murder. He also was trying to get her to divulge the identity of a confidential source who suggested the man acted in self-defense and that one of the victims had ties to an anti-Hispanic group. OBrien refused to comply with the subpoena.

Initially, the Kansas Supreme Court granted a temporary stay of a subpoena for OBriens notes, according to the AP story, but the next day, the reporter received a subpoena (from the county prosecutor) to appear at the defendants trial as a witness. The Kansas Supreme Court (immediately)… refused to block the subpoena (without considering the appeal).

Anstaett commented: It (the supreme court ruling) sends an unmistakably chilling message to our reporters and to their sources that no protections exist for those who want to blow the whistle on government, uncover corruption and abuse, or report on the criminal element in our communities.

The Senate majority leader  agreed  that because of the Dodge City case, We should strike while the iron is hot.

With his help, a new proposal was enacted into law in that same 2010 session.

Kansas became the 38th state with a shield law.

†††

 

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Not everyone connected with the Dodge City case was happy with the new shield law, especially OBrien, the reporter who brought the plight of reporters to the attention of the public and the legislature.

OBriens newspaper, the Dodge City Daily Globe, is one of nine Kansas dailies owned by GateHouse Media, which is based in Fairport, N.Y.,  and owns ( close to 400 newspapers)

In an e-mail in late January to the state press association, her companys division manager and publishers of four Kansas newspapers owned by GateHouse Media including her own OBrien said she was disappointed in the bill. This e-mail came before it was signed into law.

“(The bill) strikes me as the kind of compromise that will give the legislature an excuse to avoid passing a real shield law for another couple of decades, OBrien said in her e-mail. We won’t get another opportunity to pass a bill with real teeth in it for a long time, and with the feds packing reporters off to prison in record numbers, I still think our best hope is a proactive and vigorous appeal to public opinion.

She continued: This bill leaves ample room for forced testimony. If it serves as the basis for my protection, I predict that I’ll soon be right back in the same courtroom. I know this county attorney and this judge well enough to be certain of that. And I gave my word to my sources that their identities would be protected.

OBrien added in her e-mail: I’m not willing to go to jail for this bill. I don’t think it will protect me. However, I do remain willing and ready to go to jail in order to achieve real protection for all Kansas reporters.

I realize that the above scenario would transpire in theory only if the state meets certain criteria, but, in Ford County at least, the court has clearly demonstrated its willingness, if not eagerness, to rubber stamp every claim the state has made in that regard.” (My note, included here, not a part of the original email or of this paper: as a reporter, I had observed our county prosecutor and Judge Love in action for almost a year. It was clear to people in Ford County  that if the shield bill passed, our DA, who went hunting with this judge every other weekend, would simply hand his pal, I mean his honor, a statement claiming that he had, as required by the bill,  exhausted other resources. The judge would sign the prosecutor’s subpoena with no pretense of reading the statement. An hour later a deputy would appear at a reporter’s desk and hand him a subpoena.

I realize that I’m just one factor in this whole scenario, and that each of you will make decisions as you see fit. I realize also that I’m just a beat reporter who probably appears to be getting too big for her britches. But for what it’s worth, and again with sincere respect to all, I’m risking your displeasure only because of deeply held personal convictions.

 

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OBrien was fired from the Dodge City paper shortly after the issue was resolved.

(She) told an Associated Press reporter that it was in retaliation for comments she made to news outlets after she was found in contempt for failing to appear at the inquisition. Her newspapers parent company, GateHouse Media, denied her allegations.

Obrien said she never testified before the legislature on the proposed shield law, although she had initially been asked to provide input.  She wasn’t mentioned at the bill-signing ceremony either, nor at the annual state press association banquet, where everyone who played a role re the bill’s success was  individually thanked. Except O’Brien.

It emerged late in the press banquet that O’Brien had not only won first place in the news division – and with the very story that had attracted the wrath of the DA in the first place – but that she had broken a state record by winning three additional awards at once.

“Fortunately, the judges were from the Nebraska Press Association,”” the unrepentant reporter  commented on the RCFP website.

 

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†††

. In a July 2010 interview after her firing, O’Brien said …she was outside the information flow between the court and the newspaper’s parent company.

..”I was forfeiting some basic rights,”  she said.

…She didn’t think it was unreasonable to want copies of everything associated with the case.

“I didn’t want to be leading a parade,” she said. “I wanted to be informed. I had to fight just to be told when motions were going to be presented… anyone facing a criminal charge has a right to information.”

†††

 

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OBrien received four Kansas Press Association awards for her stories that appeared in the Dodge City newspaper. Ironically, among the awards was a first place for the story on her jailhouse interview.

OBrien maintains the new shield law may protect the  urban Democrats of eastern Kansas in places such as the famously wealthy Johnson County,  and in Topeka and Wichita, where the state’s only two large newspapers  are respectively located.  As for the towns, large and small, that dot the high arid plains of Kansas’ vast central and western regions, the bill provides the  reporters who put in 12 to 16 hour days for an average wage of $24,000 a year about as much protection as nylon netting.

Out here, she added, prosecutors rule like kings.

 

 

 NOTES

  Purple text – highlighted email, incorporated by Professor Anderson into text and quoted directly by myself.

♦ Blue text – extremely condensed

 Orange text – added by me

♦ Black text – by Professor Les Anderson, Elliot school of Communication,Wichita State University

The above paper was also published in Editor and Publisher, November 2010

 

 

TWELVE GATES TO THE CITY/12,000 HITS

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“Let’s see..there’s three gates to the north, three gates to the south….” / Claire O’Brien 2013

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 Oh, what a beautiful City! Oh, what a beautiful City!

Oh, what a beautiful City! Twelve gates to the City, Halleluia!

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12,000 Hits Later, O’Brien (see above subtle symbolism) Mulls and Plans her Comeback

 I’ve decided to combine my 12,000 Hit Celebration with some cards I’ve shared with only two or three people. I received them four years ago in 2010,  when I was a print reporter for the Daily Globe in Dodge City, Kansas, during a State Supreme Court First Amendment case and murder trial. I’m sharing only those cards that were not confidentially sent – most of the Latino community feared, with good cause, reprisal for supporting me.

 

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From a source

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I was defamed by an unholy alliance of corporate media, neoliberal First Amendment groups, most particularly the Reporter’s Committee for Freedom of the Press (Director LUCY DAGLISH), and the state. Newer readers who are interested in what happened would honor me by reading Jeff Nyguyen’s post in his impressive blog, Deconstructing Myths.

I’ll also list my own selections from this blog’s archives at the end of this post.

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From Dennis and Mary Lou Doris

ΔΦΔ ________ Δ _________ ΔΦΔ

I haven’t shared these cards for a number of reasons. First of all, I have been very publically and shamelessly called a liar by some powerful people. Thus, I have kept these expressions of community support close to my heart: I wasn’t willing to submit them to the disrespectful and ruthless public scrutiny that had destroyed my best professional and personal efforts.

These days, though, I’m thinking that I want to share more than my anger about what it means to be defamed. Defamation is a  word that makes it sound as if mean-spirited gossip has hurt one’s feelings. But that’s not what it is. Real defamation WORKS: it gathers momentum, as it’s intended to, until people believe it. And if they don’t believe it, they believe something is/was unsavory and/or not quite right about you. In the end, to really defame someone, you have to get at the heart of their character in some fundamental way: you can’t portray them as truthful in every other aspect of their life – and yet a huge liar re. one nationally -known, professionally pivotal incident.  Since they are telling the truth, you have to discredit their essential personhood in order to ensure that they will remain permanently discredited.

Δ____________________Δ

There’s three gates to the north, three gates to the south,

Three gates to the east, three gates to the west.

In all, there’s twelve gates to the city, halleluia!

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FROM NORMA ORONA

Δ ________________ Δ

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FROM ETHEL PETERSON

 ____________________  …

I don’t know if it’s considered unprofessional to publish cards of support. After four years of struggle, I think I’ve worried too much about those kinds of standards – I think they may be a kind of trap. I decided that I should document more than what was done to me, more than my political and professional anger about it. I decided that I could also document what it really feels like to be a truthful reporter who has really been defamed. Maybe people don’t have a clear sense of what that means; if so, that’s something I can contribute.

___<> ___<> __ <> ___

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FROM JERRY AND ANNE KETNER

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FROM THE BONILLA FAMLY

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When I get there, I’m gonna sing and shout.

Ain’t nobody gonna put me out.

Oh what a beautiful city!

Oh. what a beautiful city, Halleluia!

Traditional Spiritual

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Special note: what I get when I now attempt to reach University of Maryland attorney Laura Anderson, with whom I had been in touch re. my legal complaints about above-named Lucy Dalglish

The following message to <landerso@mail.umd.edu> was undeliverable.
The reason for the problem:
5.3.0 –  Sender denied

I would really appreciate emails sent to this corporate lawyer supporting my right to acknowledgement and redress. Thanks very much.

DRONES DEPICT DESCENDING DEVILS

2012-12-17 at 07-09-47gas34 (1)

ONE AMERICAN VOICE / PHOTO & ART by CLAIRE O’BRIEN /2013  EL PASO:A year ago today on 5 January, 2014, One American Voice replaced all print and eletronic media in the Eastern Hemisphere. The newspaper is now printed in 14 languages, “with more on the way,” according to OAV Intercontinental Executive Editor and Director Rush Limbaugh, who predicts an airdate  of  early 2016 for both One American Broadcast TV and One American Radio.”Finally!’ Geraldo Rivera was quoted,”Our Venezuelan Occupation forces will get decent cable reception.”

The other Dreamers: 48,000 Central American children ride the rails looking for their mothers

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A small boy with a practiced eye makes his way along the ridge of a mountain of trash , alert to the contours of a landscape that changes daily. When he hones in on a promising spot, he works swiftly to retrieve everything of use, tossing or shoving aside peripheral mounds. Large buzzards perch nearby or get tired of waiting for him and depart with a loud squawk  for a neighboring mountain.

The huge city dump outside of Tegucigalpa, Honduras plays a central role in the subsistence economy of the city’s poor. Children spend hours a day climbing its slopes, searching for wood, bricks, edible food, rags, broken cookware, discarded clothing, plastic, paper, tin, and glass. Life has grown a lot  harder for Honduras’ poor families over the past twelve or so years. More and more of them are single-parent families headed by women, who can’t even count  on  earning enough to supply their children’s basic needs, let alone  afford  textbooks and  school supplies.

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One of the first public signs that a mother has left  Tegucigalpa and found work in the United States is the retirement of her children from work at the dump – and their immediate enrollment in school. Tens of thousands of Honduran children are raised by relatives, as more and more single mothers cross neighboring Guatemala and make the dangerous trek up the length of Mexico to seek work in the U.S. Most of them lack the paperwork required by Mexico and, directed by coyotes, bribe officials along the route.

Mexico returns several busloads of Hondurans and Guatemalans to the border every day.

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        And every year,  thousands of Honduran and Guatemalan children, some as young as nine,  disregard the terrible warnings of their elders and risk their lives on the long treacherous journey to El Norte, determined to find their mothers. Some do not survive; more are sent home with missing limbs, lost beneath the wheels of the Train of Death that carries them north, pursued  by Mexican police, railroad agents, gang members and bandits.  In some areas, the local  police rob and beat them as regularly as do the gangsters, and they go without food and water for two, sometimes three days at a time.

But the children  will not be stopped: the L.A. Times photographer who took these photos met a 15-year-old boy who finally crossed  the Rio Grande after his eighteenth harrowing journey up the length of Mexico on the tops of crumbling freight cars.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~ ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

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As the light fades in southern Mexico, a Honduran boy leaps from car to car as the train approaches a village in the state of Chiapas. Like the other riders, he’s preparing to position himself to leap from the train about a mile before it reaches the stop, hoping to avoid the police and bandits who await the train in the village. The travelers will circle widely around the community and wait for the train another mile up the tracks. They know that if they make it through Chiapes, they can count on welcome, protection, and food from the villagers of the neighboring states of  Veracruz and Oaxoca. There, people routinely defy the police, warning the migrants, surrounding them with protests if they are arrested, sheltering them in their tiny homes and opening their churches.

As the trains slow down to pass through these villages, some of the poorest people in Mexico wait beside the tracks to throw bags plastic bags of tortillas, beans, fruit, cheese, bread and sandwiches. They toss bottles of lemonade and tea, blankets and clothing They shout'”Bless you! Bless you!” and the travelers often cry as they shout “Bless you!” back, before the train whisks them along the tracks and out of sight.

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A fifteen-year-old Honduran boy named Enrique has reached the Rio Grande at last. He spends another month sleeping under a large bush near the river’s edge in the Mexican border town of Nuevo Laredo,  earning enough pesos to buy a phone card to call his mother, begging for food, and avoiding the authorities. Here he washes cars on a Nuevo Laredo night.

 When Enrique wades across the border river at last, he joins one of 48,000 Central American children who enter the United States unaccompanied by an adult each year. Almost all are looking for their mothers.

They are Dreamers too.

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The above material is taken from  2002 Los Angeles Times series “Enrique’s Journey” by Sonia Nazario.

                                    All photos except last one (below) / Don Barletti / LA Times

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♦    ♦    ♦    ♦    ♦   ♦    ♦    ♦

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~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~ 

We should not look for the child Jesus in our beautiful pictures. We should look for him amongst the malnourished children that have gone to bed tonight with nothing to eat, or amongst the children that sell the newspapers in our streets and will sleep on the same streets covered with what paper is over.  

If somebody gives a loaf of bread to the hungry, he’s called a Saint. But, if he starts asking for the reasons causing the famine then he is called an atheist communist. Yet there is nothing more dangerous for the people than capitalism, as it turns human beings into material objects and material objects into idols. 

Above two quotes: Bishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, who defied a furious Vatican and a ruthless CIA  when he stood with the peasents and revolutionaries against the atrocities of the US – backed military takeover.  Romero was murdered at the direction of the CIA, but his presence is lovingly expressed throughout the daily life of present day El Salvador.

Adios, mis amigos, they have taken my name

 
 I feel  like an old railroad man
who’s really tried the best that he can
to make his life add up to something good.
I guess I may never understand
that the times I live in are not made for a railroad man
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I know I can walk along the tracks
It may take a little longer , but I know I will find my way back.
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I feel like an old railroad man
Getting on board at the end of an Age.
The station’s empty and the whistle blows.
Things are faster now; this train is just too slow.
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I know I can walk along the tracks
but now I have forgotten:
I don’t know how to find my way back.
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        RAILROAD MAN LYRICS AND MUSIC BY EEL
FIRST PHOTO BY EEL
MY APOLOGIES TO EEL FOR CHANGES IN THE LAST TWO LINES.
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Lydia Cacho : NARRA EN PRIMERA PERSONA LOS DETALLES DE SU DETENCIÓN, “UN SECUESTRO LEGAL”

Reblogged in Electrica in the Desert. The English translation (click above, then choose language option near top of link) is poor, and it is too long for my own skills to translate the whole thing. But English-only readers will still understand what happened to this brave Mexican Journalist who continued to expose violence against women and girls in spite of numerous threats. American journalists will back down in a heartbeat if their jobs are threatened. All over the world, though, journalists refuse to back down although their lives are threatened. Many have died for freedoms that are rountinely abused by our nation’s elite journalists, such as Lucy Dalglish, Charles Davis and Calvin Trillin.

Plataforma de Mujeres Artistas Contra la Violencia de Genero

El 16 de diciembre del 2005, Lydia Cacho Ribeiro fue detenida por la policía en su casa de la ciudad de Cancún. Los policías la llevaron a una distancia de 1.500 kilómetros, a la ciudad de Puebla. Estuvo detenida durante 30 horas, por cargos de difamación, antes de ser puesta en libertad bajo fianza. Amnistía Internacional cree que su detención constituye acoso judicial, amenaza su derecho a la libertad de expresión y la hace más vulnerable a las amenazas y las intimidaciones relacionadas con su trabajo de defensa de los derechos humanos.

Lydia nos contó de primera mano todos los detalles de su detención.

Mi Detención:

por Lydia Cacho

18 diciembre 2005

– Se hizo la estrategia para deshacerse de la custodia de agentes de la AFI que me asignó el gobierno federal luego de las numerosas amenazas de muerte que he recibido. En el momento en que me aprehendieron…

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