Over the last few weeks, you have heard the term “Domestic Terrorist” in the media by Senator Harry Reid, when speaking about the supporters of Mr. Cliven Bundy.

One would ask thy self, what exactly is a domestic terrorist and why did Mr. Reid coin the term when speaking about these individuals?

Let me give you a history lesson about this very subject. Keep in mind, I am ONLY speaking about the N.D.A.A. of 2012. (I will get into the N.D.A.A. of 2014, which is a total BEAST within itself, in another article.)

On December 14th, 2011, the National Defense Authorization Act was passed by the U.S. House of Representative. The bill was subsequently sent to the U.S. Senate where it was voted on and passed The bill landed on the President’s desk and was signed (quietly on New Years Eve) into law on December 31, 2011.

There are MANY issues that I could cover on this topic, however, we are going to stay on the one issue that has been presented at present.

Deep within the N.D.A.A. is Section 1021 and 1022, is where we run into the “Counter-terrorism” sections of the bill. [Title X, Subtitle D] Within this, is  the authorization for the indefinite military detention of persons the government suspects of involvement in terrorism, including U.S. citizens arrested on American soil.

The AUMF (Authorization for Use of Military Force) already authorizes the President to indefinitely detain an individual, so why would we need this added into the N.D.A.A? Because of one very small word with a very big definition. The N.D.A.A. now states that CONGRESS  affirms this authority and makes specific provisions as to the exercise of that authority.

Your definition of Affirm is different than Black’s Law Dictionary of the word.

 Black’s Law Dictionary:

Affirm:  To ratify, make firm, confirm, establish, reassert. To ratify or confirm a former law or judgment. Cowell. In the practice of appellate courts, to affirm a judgment, decree, or order, is to declare that it is valid and right, and must stand as rendered below; to ratify and reassert it; to I concur in its correctness and confirm its efficacy. In pleading. To allege or aver a matter of fact; to state it affirmatively; the opposite of deny or traverse. . In practice. To make an affirmation; to  make a solemn and formal declaration or asseveration that an affidavit is true, that the witness will tell the truth, etc.. this being substituted for an oath in certain cases. Also, to give testimony on affirmation. In the law of contracts. A party is said to affirm a contract the same being voidable at his election, when he ratifies and accepts it, waives his right to annul it, and proceeds under it as if it had been valid ^ originally.

So, what just happened there? Well, congress vested the power in themselves to bypass the 4th Amendment of the United States Constitution and took the President out of the equation.

Note that in section (f) REQUIREMENT FOR BRIEFINGS OF CONGRESS.—The Secretary of Defense shall regularly brief Congress regarding the application of the authority described in this section, including the organizations, entities, and individuals considered to be ‘‘covered persons’’ for purposes of subsection (b)(2).

So, who defines what a domestic terrorist is? The Department of Homeland Security. The National Consortium for the Study of Terrorism and Responses to Terrorism (S.T.A.R.T.) at the University of Maryland (Which was partly funded by the DHS)

In their review, on pages 9 and 10, the definition of particular groups are mentioned below:

Extreme Right-Wing: groups that believe that one’s personal and/or national “way of life” is under attack and is either already lost or that the threat is imminent (for some the threat is from a specific ethnic, racial, or religious group), and believe in the need to be prepared for an attack either by participating in paramilitary preparations and training or survivalism. Groups may also be fiercely nationalistic (as opposed to universal and international in orientation), anti-global, suspicious of centralized federal authority, reverent of individual liberty, and believe in conspiracy theories that involve grave threat to national sovereignty and/or personal liberty.

Extreme Left-Wing: groups that want to bring about change through violent revolution rather than through established political processes. This category also includes secular left-wing groups that rely heavily on terrorism to overthrow the capitalist system and either establish “a dictatorship of the proletariat” (Marxist-Leninists) or, much more rarely, a decentralized, non-hierarchical political system (anarchists).

Religious: groups that seek to smite the purported enemies of God and other evildoers, impose strict religious tenets or laws on society (fundamentalists), forcibly insert religion into the political sphere (e.g., those who seek to politicize religion, such as Christian Reconstructionists and Islamists), and/or bring about Armageddon (apocalyptic millenarian cults; 2010: 17). For example, Jewish Direct Action, Mormon extremist, Jamaat-al-Fuqra, and Covenant, Sword and the Arm of the Lord (CSA) are included in this category. 

Ethno-Nationalist/Separatist: regionally concentrated groups with a history of organized political autonomy with their own state, traditional ruler, or regional government, who are committed to gaining or regaining political independence through any means and who have supported political movements for autonomy at some time since 1945. 

Single Issue: groups or individuals that obsessively focus on very specific or narrowly-defined causes (e.g., anti-abortion, anti-Catholic, anti-nuclear, anti-Castro). This category includes groups from all sides of the political spectrum.

So, as we move forward in the election process you will continually hear politician’s, specifically Paul Broun, try and defend their position on voting for the N.D.A.A. in 2012. Congress Paul Broun brings up that he voted for the Amash/Smith Amendment and then the Amash/Gibson Amendment that would have repealed sections 1021 and 1022. Don’t be fooled by this nonsense. If you KNOWINGLY vote for a bill, this radical, why on God’s Green Earth would you vote for this bill to begin with?!

This is known in Washington as “Double Speak.”

I have to give it to Congressmen Phil Gingrey and Jack Kingston though, they are both owning their votes like a champ!

Our Constitutional Rights are NOT up for debate nor compromise. If you give up one, you give up all.



20140301_125336Typically I’m that guy that is always fashionably late. I suppose I use the words fashionably late to mask the fact that I actually have obsessive compulsive disorder, and I am usually scrambling at the last minute to make sure I have everything with me that I will need. This sometimes causes major setbacks, however you have to admit, it is pretty impressive when I show up later than all of you and make a calm, cool pause underneath the doorway with a James Dean smile and a cryptic hand gesture. Come on, you know that’s cool. I practice that crap in a mirror, so throw me some love.
As I said, typically that is my modus operands. However on this particular day, I was not going to take any risks. I had been up for seventy two hours hovering over monitors and keyboards to make sure the latest episode of ZEN IN THE CAR T.V. came to your beautiful eyes and the thrill of it along with the event of the weekend had me wired beyond belief. There was no way I was going to attempt even getting sleep for this one. After the episode was in the can I threw my joo-joo bag over my shoulder and went on my morning walk to the Deku Tree, or as I lovingly call it, “Zen Garden 2.0” and took a few hours to meditate while the sun came up above the trees. Once I had made my peace it was Pandora on the smart thingy and me making tracks around the neighborhood.

As scheduled, Jason Patrick called me around eight thirty or so to make sure I was upright and mobile. Thankfully for him I had already prepared the night before. So when he arrived with Monster in hand (sorry Berenice, I know I told you I would cut back on caffeine but I really needed it that day) I was up and ready to go. Once we piled into his truck it was off to pick our very own Curtis Sirmans up at his pad with more equipment. Like an angel floating from the heavens, Sirmans had our microphones in hand ready to roll, save a few technical errors which we will resolve. From his pad on, it was to Macon, where we would meet the Grayson caravan. As the three of us did inventory and waited for the caravan to roll in we discussed plans for the future and our goals within this movement. After about an hour we could hear the deep puttering of Harley engines thundering down the highway. That’s when the Sons of Liberty rolled in with a one Jason Turner leading the charge.

Now as all of you know, I am prone to make sidetracks in my prose and I really don’t want to do it here but I think it is noteworthy for me to say this. As many of you know, I am a very spiritual person. I believe that some people come into your life for little things like implanting an idea you have never thought of before; and then again, there are some who show up to change it forever. You know these people when you meet them and there is no doubt about it. It could be a parent, a love interest, a business partner, or someone you instantly recognize as a friend. Before continuing any further I can tell you; the moment our two mighty hands took hold of the other it was apparent this man was my brother in not only this life, but many prior and many yet to come. Sometimes Freedom and Liberty rhyme with the heartbeat of a pulse. More on that later.
After the crew assembled, Patrick, Sirmans and myself piled into Turner’s ride and ripped down highway 16 to little Louisiana. Otherwise known as Savannah. On the way, as expected; there were many philosophical conversations had within the confines of the car. It was a meeting of the minds so to speak, an iron sharpeneth iron moment. When the convoy reached the coast we all pulled to the nearest gas station to rest our legs and grab a bite. Unfortunately it was in some po-dunk town filled with the lowest of DNA from the evolutionary chain. Our good friend Jason Patrick stepped outside and as he walked towards our companions, Robert Sowell, and Bruno Rivera, he handed a couple of rednecks a Derrick Grayson flyer. The immediate response was that they wouldn’t vote for “niggers”. Yes, this type of thing still exists in the deep woods of Georgia. Ironically enough, this issue would pop up in the debates later, but all in its good time.

The crew refreshed themselves and communicated with the campaign in Savannah to set up the timing of our arrival and when everything was set it was back on the highway; back to my place of Zen. For the rest of the trip I sort of basked in the conversations my brothers in Freedom were having in the car, every now and then interjecting with my own insights. However for the most part; I know to shut my mouth when titans are sparring intellectually.
Once we arrived in downtown Savannah, and saw the absurdity of the signs from all the polished politicians, the crew was more than pumped to support Derrick Grayson. All of us were appalled at the commercialism of the other candidates. We knew Mister Grayson personally. We understood this was not career advancement or a notch in a belt. The man was running because he genuinely believed and if that was not the case not a one of us would be there. It was a sickening sight to see what the proceeds from mega corporations like Monsanto can buy when you have honest statesmen like Derrick Grayson that are running to truly represent us on a wing and a prayer. We read about David and Goliath in Sunday school; but how many of us are willing to reenact it?
Outside of the school the debates were to be hosted at, more Grayson supporters showed up with camera equipment and tools to help us spread the word. We rolled in like gangbusters and set up. Patrick and myself helped with the Grayson table as Sirmans waltzed in with his Go Pro strapped to his head. Of course on the way in Patrick was sure to catch Broun stumbling over himself with the vote on NDAA, and having every intention of catching Purdue on the way out. It was apparent from the beginning that team Zen was not there to make nice. But come on, you don’t pay us for nice do you?

After meeting with patriots such as Barbie Dunn and Ellisa Oliver, head volunteers for the Grayson campaign, the two of us found a seat to enjoy the debates. This is when the fun really began. As Patrick and I listened to the answers and questions; Jason Turner and quirky embedded reporter Sarah Westwood scrambled to see if footage was being taken. Now unfortunately the school had somehow…mysteriously blocked the live feed. And very little footage was taken from what could otherwise be described as a dynamic debate in which Grayson swept the floor.


to be continued..




Where were you on September 21, 2013? You know where I was? I was outside of Warner Robins City Hall with my brothers and sisters in Liberty waving signs in protest of the Lenco B.E.A.R.C.A.T. That’s right, Jason Patrick has such moral backbone to not only raise awareness on the purchase of a militarized tank for our local peace officers, but to organize a protest on the very soil where the heart of this beast resides; right in front of City Hall. Team Zen and Hoco 4 Liberty staged a protest over the purchase of the assault tank by city council and mayor chuck shaheen and rose quite a bit of awareness over the issue. Most of the citizens were unaware of the purchase of this assault tank and were eager to sign our petition stating they thought the WRPD had no business with such a monstrosity of violence. Others were more than willing to give us contact information so they too could engage in activism.



It was quite an inspiring day. Activists such as Valerie and Jesse Martin, Curtis Sirmans, Ben Two Bits, Sabrina Black, Kisha Crumpton, Karen Wilkerson,  and myself all fell in line under Jason Patrick’s lead to spend our Saturday morning raising awareness that the city of Warner Robins was going along with the furtherance of changing our Constitutional Republic into George Orwell’s worst nightmare. We had plenty of media coverage and by the time we made our case the local news outlets were beginning to share our point of view on why this tank is needed and beginning to understand why the city “officials” were refusing to answer their calls over the purchase of this assault vehicle.



Signs were waved, signatures were gathered and younger activists were activated so all in all it was a good day, because any day that awareness over Freedom and Liberty are brought to the forefront cannot be considered time wasted. Our numbers are growing, our voices are getting louder, and it should become apparent that soon being in public office is not going to be as appealing as it once was for those who seek back room deals and under the table exchanges of funds.
Ironically after the protest, the local news outlet 13 WMAZ contacted police chief Brett Evans over our expression of dissent otherwise known as the First Amendment, and his comments were as follows; “they’re the same people that keep coming to city council meetings and they don’t deserve any attention. We won’t be anywhere near it, nor giving them the time of day.”

I don't really care what the people think

I don’t really care what the people think

This is quite a telling remark from a man who swore an oath to the Constitution and is allowed to wear his fancy badge and utility belt paid for by We The People for the purpose of defending the very Rights we are exerting. When someone runs for public office they must assume the role of being a contact to the people, a bridge for the people, and a source of open and honest government. What you have here is a man that has basically taken the position that he is not a public servant, rather he is an “authority figure” and he doesn’t feel the need to properly address the concerns of the serfdom. This is exactly why Warner Robins does not need an assault tank. If the Chief of police is willing to pay lip service to the First Amendment of the people then what prevents him from paying lip service to the other nine…and now he has a friggin’ tank.
So we here at ZENINTHECAR.COM wish to thank Jason Patrick and those who attended the protest for doing more than listening to the news and becoming the news. We want to wish you god speed in all future endeavors and hope that the issue of Warner Robins Police militarizing themselves is one that will not die silently into the night.

The 4th of July: Super Heroes, Messiahs and 1776

20130527_192956Here we are at another 4th of July. Independence Day, or so they say, but from my estimation the past few generations have not entirely delivered to us; the youth of the New Atlantis what exactly this meant, means, or will mean for future generations. Sure for most of our lives we have watched in suburbs and rural parts of America as the grownups would pop open the kegs and do their very best not to blow fingers off and eyes out with bottle rockets, and we felt somewhere in this that it was supposed to be important but for the life of us we couldn’t at the time figure it out. Now though, as the age of world-wide paranoia from the money masters, politicians, and fear mongering clerics of organized religion clash with the internet age of a generation raised on interfacing with electronics and social media, we finally find out what happens when an unstoppable force meets and immovable object. I like to call it Justice. Or Karma if you like because what is Justice but the wonderful word for reaping what you sow…Karma. Kind of rolls of the tongue doesn’t it? Well maybe not for the long standing governments of state and church throughout the world.

The 4th of July isn’t just an American holiday. It’s a global holiday. It’s when a generation of people fed up with the crown and the cross of religious intolerance and fear finally cried up to heaven and asked for the Divine Providence of what all Faiths have a different name for and begged for guidance. There is One Divinity with many names and that Divinity will always answer the prayers of one who reads the Bible just as much as one who reads the Koran or even Mother Nature herself. In the times when human suffering and oppression reach an apex a messenger or group of messengers are always anointed to guide the people to Freedom and Liberty by means of what our Founders simply called “Divine Providence”. It was the revealing of an ultimate plan to the few that the way things are, are certainly not the way they are supposed to be. When Righteous men and women hear this call (Righteous meaning Right Hearted rather than self-righteous) the plan always comes to fruition.

photo from

photo from

In the last cycle of oppression from those wearing crowns and robes drenched in blood with the coffers of tax and piracy overflowing; names we throw around like George Washington, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin and of course Thomas Jefferson all decided that talk was becoming very cheap. They did not descend from a people with enough courage to board rickety boats and cross an ocean to find a new home for no other reason than having the vampires from the last continent reach over and inject such a land with the same caste systems of lords and dukes hand in hand with witch burnings and crusades. They did not have the blood of spiritual and honorable people running in their veins only to see that they had been stalked over the Atlantic by the power hungry sycophants that divided the old world. They were students of history. They knew the spiritual schools of the past few centuries going all the way back to Pythagoras, Plato, and Socrates. They knew that the wisest in human civilization…nay…the architects of human civilization made it very clear that for a Republic to exist no one man can be the voice of God on Earth, and no one man can be the King of God on Earth over the souls of men. So they did as all great messengers of God and flipped the powers that be off with the most defiant move they could think of with the technology they had at the time. They came together knowing full well it could mean their lives, their wives, their children, treasure and their estate to say “NO! WE WILL NOT COMPLY!” and not only did they say it; they did it. And just to show how much piss they had mixed with their vinegar they had a document crafted that we call “The Declaration of Independence”. Not only were these men and women of the early America willing to back hand the British crown and its puppet master the papacy across its right cheek of audacity; they were willing to put it in writing. And so we received a document that I deem to be just as Holy inspired as the Ten Commandments or the Noble Truths of Buddha; “The Declaration of Independence” soon followed by our precious Constitution of Ten simple Amendments.



A Revolution later and an apparent calm after the storm, things were good for a while. This country did reflect that dream sought after by poets and philosophers of the last renaissance; a world where all men are truly indeed created equal. Free to worship how they see fit, free to make their living by the craft of their hand, free from government intrusion into privacy or seizure of property. They were free from racism of those fearful of the genetically or racially unique and they were free to arm themselves against a future rising tyranny. As always; for a time it was good. Then as always; a generation or two drops the ball having rested on the laurels of the past generation and the predictable happens. The fear mongers of organized religion couple up with the crowned Caesar that was arrogant enough to cross the Rubicon of the Old Republic and declare himself the dictator and re-inject racism, classism, and religious bigotry. It always ends the same way. One people that call God by one name and all look kind of the same start fearing another people that call God by something else and all look kind of the same. One side is played off of the other because of differences the two sides don’t want to take the time to understand and at some critical juncture the crown wearing puppets of organized religion throw money in there. Once the money is in the mix you have genocide. As it has already been written in a more nefarious manner by Hermann Goering with a slightly different context; “It works like this in every country.” After September the 11th this formula was given two shots of new fear setting us all on edge again; Christian versus Muslim, Muslim versus Jew. And more than a decade later we now see the fruits of the labor of fear and intolerance. Scores of troops returning home with PTSD or in body bags to broken homes, acres and acres of dead civilian children, entire cities of bombed out rubble, predator drones flying over anyone and everyone’s head, and D.H.S officers assigned to nearly everyone’s email, twitter and social media feeds. By not realizing that there is nothing to fear but fear itself, as FDR put it, we have become a nation afraid of its own shadow.



So yes, America does have blood on its hands. We had the Salem witch trials. We had the near extermination of the Native Americans. We built most of our nation off the backs of African Americans and we industrialized the North off the sweat of many an Irish American. Unlike most “conservatives”, I don’t begrudge the idiom of placing an ethnicity in front of the word “American”. It’s important to know where you came from, where you are, and where you are going. At some point we allowed the cross and crown of the dark ages to subtly slither its way into the infrastructure of our Republic. But as the Founders instructed us; it’s a Republic if we can keep it. And after all it is We the People, is it not? As all previous generations of whatever Americans came to this land there was some point where they had to pass under the words shrouding the Statue of Liberty:



photo from

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

And now we pass under those words. Catching a glimpse; only if in our minds of immigrants floating past the Goddess Statue of Liberty in New York City. And we have to come knee to knee with ourselves and ask if those words mean anything to us anymore? Do we as a people truly want to welcome all the oppressed of the world? Or are we content with lip service? And if we still boil with the blood of these words are we willing to act with such blood in our veins? Are we willing to open our eyes and see that Gandhi was right? There is no difference between Christian and Jew. That John Lennon told the truth when he said Hindus and Catholics worship the same God? That if only Americans would read the Koran they would see that the book of the Muslims says the same thing and it’s simply: Love God (by whatever you want to call it) with all your heart, and love your neighbor (that’s everyone you meet) as you love yourself. Being a student of interfaith relations myself, I can tell you that the core of all Faiths is that the only balance with God, by whatever name you choose, is the direct way that you treat other people. This may be expressed in different beautiful words, but rest assured it is always expressed in the wisest of scriptural texts. Yet we should also remember that in times of tyranny resistance is not only expected; it is required. All bringers of new age orders have to face tribulation against the powers that be of the old order. And some are frightened of the tag to our America of “Behold the New Order of the Ages” rather than the stupefied “New World Order.” It is time for a New Order of the Ages. It is time for a reversal of centuries of bloodshed, rape, murder, thievery and deceit. If the order of the ages has been human history there are some chapters I would clearly have to re-write for the sake of Justice.

All faiths share this common theme of a savior or a messiah coming to snatch us all away from our ignorance. Snatch us away from the sudden doom of our own destruction by petty bickering and spineless consent. If only we would actually let our license expire if we didn’t need it to do this and this? If only we stopped paying income taxes we know are illegal if only we didn’t have to do this and this? If only we would smash the smart meters off of our homes if we didn’t need it for this and this? Well I wouldn’t get my kid vaccinated if I didn’t need to get him into this school. Well I would only have a common law marriage if it wasn’t for this perk or this benefit. Well I would have a natural birth but I just don’t want to go through the pain. Yeah I would home school if it wasn’t for this or for that. Yeah I would stay at home more with the kids if we didn’t need this imaginary number in a bank mainframe somewhere in England. We complain; but we comply. And compliance is always a result of fear. Some people don’t comply. Some people like being the nail that sticks up because quite frankly they can take the beating of the hammer. So with that in mind, and all the recent chaos in my life as well as I am sure in yours as well, I had to go out on a date with my mom and finally catch “Man of Steel” to just unwind and get my mind off of the fact that those of us pulling away from the old system are shedding more blood and losing more pounds of flesh than others that will be waving an American flag on this day. And of course this pulling away is being done shackle by shackle, inch by inch. We are having to systematically rip each license, statute and act off of us chain by chain and its being done through the very Ten Amendments we should all be thinking on today.

Sketch by Samuel Gene

Sketch by Samuel Gene

I know up until now I’ve been extremely moving and poetic but now I’m switching gears to comic book nerd. It’s the 3rd of July as I write this and it’s been about two years and some change since I lost my own Father. Being a deeply spiritual and faithful person, this was a monument in my life because it made me ask questions I had never had to explore before. These questions took me to a place of seeking and spiritual understanding or a yearning for peace. When one is deeply spiritual and connected to the empathy of others this can most times cause deep connections that surpass what we know as the material world into the subatomic world of the spiritual. This is not superstition; it is not religion; it is simply physics. I loved my Father. I heard his last words as his breath entered my lungs and have since that moment tried to understand how it happened? Is it possible that our minds have been so fried my the GMO foods, the smart meters outside and the chemicals in the drinking water that we have been convinced that an all loving God would allow us to fry in hell if we don’t live up to some religious cleric’s standards of morality and dogma? When another way can be found? As Yeshua said; “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me”. Yet He was lifted up and we still think he didn’t do as he promised and draw all men unto him. And if all men are ultimately drawn unto him, then are we not already saved from birth? If that’s so, then what sins can we commit that have not been forgiven from the foundation of the Earth? Does not that make sin an illusion? Merely a disconnect from the Divine? If that’s so then what disconnects me from the ones I have loved that passed over? These are logical questions. They are questions that allow us to transcend the “official story” of preachers, imams, priests and popes that have all married the government through 501-C incorporations. They are not insane or out of the ordinary at all. Questioning all authority is merely a way to free your own mind and your own soul. So with all this in mind my Mom (who lovingly pinned towels on my back from the clothesline when I was a boy too) and I decided to sneak off and catch a matinee.


D.L. Crumpton and B.L. Crumpton

D.L. Crumpton and B.L. Crumpton

Not wanting to give away any spoilers, but I certainly enjoyed the movie being able to relate to it in such a deep way. Having lost my Father, then seeking a Higher Source in order to make peace with what truly resonated within me; I really clutched on to the iconography. And of course at the climactic moment when “Superman” finally becomes aggressive after seeing his mom threatened by the villainous, eugenic, crazies born in a test tube back on Krypton; I clutched my mother’s hand as I watched the son of Krypton beat the living snot out of the prick that dared to touch his mother. When my mom complained about stale pop-corn I emptied the tub to get some freshly popped kernels and when she couldn’t hear the cleverly written super hero lines I turned up her headset for the hearing impaired. When she got cold I lifted the arm chair and rubbed her arms, and by the end of the movie both of us had a smile on our face and we were content. It was very much like a letter from home. The two of us were connected to a man bore up on just as much Honor and Dignity as George Washington himself, with warts and all, and suddenly he had vanished. He left his wife and son down here on Earth to push ahead without him. Having discovered shortly before his passing that though his service in foreign wars had been performed with the best of intentions; his government and church had lied to him about the motives of his patriotism and therefore made him a party to crimes against the “Declaration of Independence” and the Constitution. He, and his generation had been lied to about why they were given guns and bombs with moving targets on the other end and this deeply troubled him. After he had watched “Terrorstorm”, an Alex Jones documentary about false flag acts of terrorism to provoke war, there was a tugging in his heart. When he had heard that his own president was ordering the sinking of the U.S.S Liberty, an American Navy Vessel, he felt an obligation to his country to make amends for his service performed in ignorance.


At that moment my Father, well into his 70s became an activist. He used the resources he had to pass out fliers, attend local political meetings, wear Ron Paul T-Shirts and buttons, and inform fellow veteran’s that Vietnam was fought over just as big of a lie as the current war on terror. He had seen that by complying with the system that is currently helmed by Barack Obama, for years had allowed this tarantula to choke my generation and possibly the one following it. And he would have no more of it. It is wonderful to see the youth of this country wake up but let me tell you when you see an elderly man whose body was failing him wobble to his truck with an “End the Fed” T-Shirt on, a Ron Paul bumper sticker on the back, and a pocket full of fliers a different type of inspiration fills you up. My father was like all older people; stubborn and set in his ways and having always been proud to be his son I was certainly awestruck to see him become stubborn and set in his ways about the noble cause of Freedom and Liberty.

superman-and-american-flag-animated-wallpaperOf course “Man of Steel” not only resonated with me on a personal level, but on a patriotic and spiritual level as well. One couldn’t help but notice the references to a messiah that embodied not only the goodness and kind heartedness of all Messiah figures, but the American ideal that that embodiment could be manifest in each and every one of us as a people. That each and every one of us could be a nation of super heroes, so to speak, if only we would treat others around us with respect and honesty and that means even if they practice a faith we are unfamiliar with or happen to come from a different ethnicity than ourselves. And of course, and not to spoil anything, if we would do as “Superman” does in the movie and slam all the surveillance satellites of the a spying government down to the Earth with an attitude that wags its finger of steel in the face of DHS and the NSA and says “That’s not very American”. So I hope all of you enjoy your 4th of July. I hope it finds you with all the ones you love and American flags all around. I hope some of you go and see “Man of Steel” with little one’s in tow so that the message of the film is instilled in their young and impressionable minds and our Republic remains secured for future generations with the Patriotic messages that shine from the screen into their eyes. I hope you take the time to explain to them afterwards what the protagonist of the movie means by being American, and educate them about the “Declaration of Independence” and the Constitution on this day. And then tomorrow I hope you give them an example, as Clark Kent’s parents did for him, and as my parents did for me, that you will no longer comply with a system built on sucking the Freedom from the little ones that will look up at you.
Have a safe and Happy 4th of July. God bless, blessed be, Namaste, and Shalom to you all.


Daniel Louis Crumpton: Public Enemey Number… Whah?: Part Two

daniels pics 522


Last: Daniel Louis Crumpton: Public Enemy Number…Part One


While in the back of the sheriff’s cruiser that you and I paid for I couldn’t help but find the irony that Deputy Dawg James was responding to Facebook messages with his smart phone as he stormed down 96 with a laptop open and on to his immediate right. I snickered to myself wondering what numbers and dashes in the OCGA he would write little, yellow slips of bill of attainder’s to you and I had we been pulled over doing the same. Pots and kettles calling each black have nothing on this scenario. From that point I was hoisted, bare foot and all, out of the car and into some sort of” Shield” like docking bay which more resembled a super max prison for the criminally insane comic book villain we all love to hate more than it did a local jail for upstanding citizens such as myself. I was escorted in and taken to the front desk of the shiny new tax payer hotel I would spending the weekend and introduced to one of the only females on duty. I use the word female lightly here because judging by the juice seeping from her eyes she was probably more masculine than me. Very loud, very authoritarian, very proud of her utility belt of abuse.
This is where it got not so funny for me and rather emotional. I wear my father’s wedding band on my right hand for a few sentimental reasons that are rooted deeply in my spirituality and since I placed it on that finger it has had a very stubborn attitude of not wanting to come off despite all my best efforts. Seeing as how it enjoys being on that hand and that finger I was just content to let it have its way. However when you are taken into custody (and yes, even before due process of law has been administered) they do not allow jewelry. So the butch officer proceeds to whip out some lubricant to remove the ring to which I greatly protested.
This ring can’t be removed, it’s a part of my free exercise of worship and I haven’t been convicted of a crime. If you take it off of me you, Houston County, and the state of Georgia will be violating my Constitutional Rights.” I informed the bullfrog of a woman.

With the power drunk eye of a person missing a few chromosomes of common sense and compassion she sneers and tells me that if I don’t let her take it off she will have it cut off of my finger. At this point I am man handled by a couple of officers as Deputy Dawg James stands before me doing his best to attempt giving me a dose of police academy fear. They snatch my hand and oil it up to remove the ring at which point I understandably became extremely loud.
I said this ring is a part of my faith and can’t be removed! If I were a Muslim or a Jew my Rights would be respected!” I shout.
Of course your local Houston County Detention center and all their employees could care less about silly things such as freedom of worship so they proceed to grease my hand up. I make sure to lock eyes with the officer that arrested me and scribbled false charges on me and scream as loud as I can “This is the same as RAPE!”
Now I don’t know if the gravity of such a violation penetrated into him in any way but I hope that in penetrates within each and every one of you. Just because a person does not practice the same faith as you, or you do not understand it, does not mean it is invalid or that somehow because you know nothing about it that faith and practice shouldn’t be respected and allotted the same Rights under the Constitution. I had expressed to these so called “Peace Officers” that the ring was a critical aspect of my faith and these men and quasi woman that took an oath to defend the Constitution from enemies both foreign and domestic, the very oath that allows them to receive paychecks off of our hard work, were making a conscious decision to violate their oath for the sake of keeping their jobs. Not one of them spoke up to say I was right. Not one of them placed the bull frog woman under arrest for her attempts at theft by taking. Not one of them honored the oath they swore to protect. Welcome to Houston County Georgia, your taxpayer dollars are hard at work.

When it became obvious that I was serious I was quickly put in an arm lock and thrown into a four by six cinder block room and locked up like a rapist or a wife beater. After being asked a series of questions through the door I simply held up five fingers and mouthed the words “Fifth Amendment”. All of the officers on duty began to laugh at me and mock me for even considering that such things still exist and as they stood at the control desk my heart sank to see them all making light of me for even knowing how to do that sort of thing. At this point your friendly neighborhood author sat on the concrete bench provided and curled up his knees to his chest. I stared at the ring on my finger, knowing its importance to me and my faith, and was astonished to see my own tears fall on the diamond in the middle. I was heartbroken. I really was. I didn’t moan, and I didn’t wail. I just let the tears fall on my ring in the unending sadness of what I had just been victim to. We pay police officers and the like to defend our Ten simple amendments and we even pay for all their gadgets and gas but when push comes to shove they throw those words of the Founding Fathers down the nearest steel toilet for the sake of maintaining a paycheck. I thought about my Dad, and I thought about my veteran friends like Curtis Sirmans that took their vow seriously and were even willing to lay their life on the line for the Constitution and here I was in the Houston County Detention Center having those Rights stripped from me left and right with ridicule and mockery. And all because I made a decision to trust that local law enforcement would do the right thing when I first called them that evening. It’s one thing to know your public servants wish to be masters; it’s another thing to experience the overwhelming ignorance of the abuse of power we have entrusted them with firsthand.
I sat in the cell for about five hours and just stared at the bull frog lady as I drew runes and crazy symbols on the glass she wouldn’t understand. I watched as she tried to mimic the posture of the men to be accepted and listened to her sycophantic masculine talk in her attempt to try and fit in. Her awkward “tough guy\girl” talk was only received with the rolling of eyes and the polite dismissals from the men who clearly couldn’t stand the sound of her voice or the smell of her aftershave. This lifted my spirits a little to know she was just as despised by her coworkers as she was to myself and probably all the inmates that have had the displeasure of being man handled or what have you by her excess poundage of triple whoppers and grease fries. Not that I’m willing her to have a heart attack before she turns forty, just saying it looks like it’s in the cards any way without any willing of my own.


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Seeing as how I only sleep about an hour or two a night anyway, the time passed slow as I sat in the lotus position on my concrete bench with my tweed slacks and naked feet. I wondered how much staph infection was on the floor and sighed as I continued to breathe in order to create more white blood cells to fight off whatever germs were probably trying to wiggle their way into my bloodstream. After bull frog lady finally clocked out and had clearly became uncomfortable with me staring at her all night visualizing car accidents and axe murderers coming to her home to do her some justice (though I’m pretty sure she’s a sad and lonely individual whose social nights involve little more than re runs of “Dawson’s Creek” while she cries herself to sleep in a bucket of Haagen Daz filled with tears and tears and tears anyway, and that’s justice enough for me) I was let out of my cell and given a nice pair of silly orange sandals. Now I don’t know if any of you have been to jail but when they give you the orange sandals that were previously worn by God knows who in God knows what, you know that human compassion has no place in jail. Now I by no means pride myself on fashion but when I was arrested I was wearing a pair of my favorite black, tweed slacks and the loosest of grey silk shirts. My writing apparel you could say. So when I’m handed bright, sherbet orange sandals even I have to push my forehead until I feel my pineal gland secrete its DMT goodness. This is just humiliating. But it’s either wear the sandals or walk around on city tiles and judging by the proficiency in duty up until this point I put the stupid sandals on.
They offer me a tray of what they say is food and I only take advantage of what I can identify as corn flakes. As I pass by the lower levels I see some of the other fish caught by the local police that night down in the bowels of the jail. There were several young ladies, barely out of their teens that had been arrested for underage drinking and I couldn’t help but see the fear in their eyes. They were probably at a party doing what teenagers do and due to a string of events they were arrested, brought here, and now they too would be put in a system that would haunt them for most of their adult years. Surely probation; surely a record that would follow them from one failed job interview to the next. I shook my head in frustration. Was it really necessary to haul young women to the local prison lite for simply being teenagers? Was it really necessary to ruin lives with paperwork when they simply could have been taken home to parents that could do a much better job than some stuffy judge wearing a dress? Well as I would later find out, when the city and county has a vested financial interest in bringing people to a system rather than bringing them to justice this type of common sense doesn’t figure into City Hall’s books.

When the other men were brought out from their cells I had the chance to bump fists with many a minority including Spanish and young Black men all brought in for victimless crimes. I introduced myself to each and every one of them and did my best to hear each and every one of their stories. Then as if the Universe was speaking to me, my homeless friend Billy shuffled in down the steps. Now I call him “Billy the Kid” and the two of us have some history. You see he hit hard times when his woman bashed him over the head and accused him of having an affair and being abusive and since that time he’s been in a type of limbo trying to drink himself to death wondering why he’s the black sheep of the family. I have been taking him clothes and vitamins, doing the best I can to help a fellow Cherokee out while having late night pow wows with him down by the local Waffle House. He told me they snagged him for violation of probation even though they know he doesn’t have a job in order to pay them to begin with. I didn’t quite see the sense in the city beating someone like him down and extorting money from someone without allowing him to get back on his feet but I just put that in the back of my mind as we were all called to see the judge.


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That scene was as usual. The judge doesn’t really listen or judge much of anything, he just sits there and reads off whatever the arresting officer put down then slaps you with a bond to which you are expected to pay before any conviction for the simple privilege of walking out of his cage. There isn’t much you can do at this point but listen and when I was called forward I obviously did more than just listen and accept what he said. Me being me I was sure to engage the judge in Constitutional questions to let him know I was aware of my Rights and no thank you I don’t need your stinking public defender because I’m competent to do this myself mister man wearing a dress and a nice little fraternity ring. Now I’m not sure why judges and lawyers have a problem looking someone that knows their Rights in the eyes but whatever. I was slapped with a $1400.00 bond in order to walk out that day. Now this shocked me to no end. I had called the po-po to remove a violent ex-felon that is abusive and clearly not right in the head and now this judge was asking me to bond out for $1400.00 that I did not have. So I asked the cute little African American guard that replaced bull frog lady to help me out and she advised me to call someone I know.

Well since the local police confiscated my memory bank (smart phone), the only number I knew by heart was my wife’s. As you all know I am going through a divorce so this was a gamble in and of itself. But what the hell, she’s a compassionate and understanding woman that knows I’m a freedom fighter and couldn’t be guilty of what I was charged with, so I dial those digits. I eagerly await to hear her voice and listen to say she will be down at the Detention Center soon enough to yank me from this situation I had no control over. And I did hear her voice…on the voicemail box she sent me straight to. Not the best feeling in the world to say the least. Shortly after this call was made I received a call from my sister, the fundamentalist Christian sworn to aid those in need. As I put the receiver to my ear and spoke my pleas of help those pleas were returned with religious dogmatism on why my own practices aren’t consistent with hers and how she couldn’t help me because of whatever, whatever, whatever. The cute little African American guard listening rolled her eyes and said “She aint gone help you honey, she just bein’ nosey.” To which I mouthed “I friggin’ know!”
So after I hung up the phone from my religiously bigoted sister I figured the best thing to do was just accept I was going to be in jail for the next few days on trumped up charges. Since I try to take life as it comes and roll with the punches I made peace with the fact that some good would come from all of this and simply ceased all efforts to get out of the system choosing rather to learn about it on the inside. After all, I am a writer and what good is a writer without experience to back up his words? Abandoned and belittled I slouched down in the chair with the other caught fish that weekend and smirked at how I constantly find myself in the most precarious of situations. Fortunately for you and me, I learned a thing or two while in jail.


Next: Daniel Louis Crumpton: Public Enemy Number…Whah: Part Three

Daniel Louis Crumpton: Public Enemy Number…Whah? Part One


Daniel Louis Crumpton released

Ho la, all you Zenners in the 8th congressional district of Georgia, Daniel Louis Crumpton here at the keyboard to tap some keys and fill you in on my weekend adventure with the Houston County Sheriff’s department. You guys might want to take some notes on this one and put my story in the back of your mind for future reference because there is no doubt in my own two hemispheres that any of you out there calling yourselves Liberty Activists are sure to have similar experiences in the near future as our state and federal government continues to suck us all dry of our resources like the over-bloated tick, vampires that they are.

Okay, so Friday night (June 7th 2013) I was tucked neatly away in my bedroom in front of the computer at my mom’s pad…yes, I’m currently living with my mom…don’t judge, and what I call my Spidey sense goes off. You see I was attempting to write an article about a recent conversation Jason Patrick and me had over drinks down at my local watering hole inside Gold Cup bowling alley and at the time was also enjoying a snort of Mr. Williams with a tad bit of the soda to the side. Now I make no bones about having once been a raging alcoholic, in fact overcoming that vice has been one of the badges I wear on my sleeve. Having eliminated the chemical addiction through vitamin supplementation, sunlight, yoga and meditation I now have the ability to enjoy a calm drink now and then. Helps to loosen the fingertips and grease the wheels when it feels like the whole world is on your shoulders…quite literally. I was halfway through the piece, and man it was going to be a good one, when all of a sudden an incident occurs in my domicile regarding my siblings and some barbeque chicken stains on the floor.

Now the condiment stains on the floor may or may not have been my fault which is really neither here nor there, but nevertheless when you are packed like a sardine in a small space with in laws, outlaws and lunatics like me, sparks are always bound to fly. In my personal life as of the past few months your friendly neighborhood author has had to juggle many hats and many duties to get his life on track (which is a story unto itself) and it is only inevitable for tempers to flare. Which they did because after all if you are going to have a knock down drag out Jerry Springer session with your sister and her live in lover it might as well be over a barbeque chicken stain on the kitchen floor…because that only makes sense right?

20130611_201355Either way I had to make the choice of either loading my trusty Walther P99 (and yes my Dad specifically bought me that gun on my birthday because it’s the signature firearm of 007…jeez my Dad and I are such fanatics) and emptying the clip in my big, overbearing brother in whatchamacallit or …sigh…calling the po-po. And you guys know how much calling the po-po leaves a taste in my mouth like sucking on a dirty penny. So, not wanting to enflame the situation by hearing my piece shout in the night with all its 40 caliber glory, I opted to call 911. By the end of the story you and I will both agree that I probably should have just called Dr. Phil or Oprah or somebody. Hindsight is 2020 though.

When the police arrived a very large Houston County Sheriff’s officer by the name of Depty’ James did his best impression of Marshal Dillon from Gun smoke (which would’ve made my Dad slap his forehead in disgust) when he walked into the house to assess the situation. Now granted I had been drinking, but was very far from being naughty D, so I walked outside and flipped on the trusty smart phone camera to ensure everything was recorded for any possible court date that may or may not be in the future. Now I don’t want to get too much into the details of what the domestic squabble was all about in order to protect the innocent and befuddled but let’s just say that when Depty Dawg left the scene the episode only escalated further. I was not content to deal with seeing as how I was frothing at the mouth to get back to the keyboard and deliver to you the Jason Patrick goodness I had intended to a few days ago, so I simply called them back to have the offending party removed from the premises. When they did return, Depty Dawg James proceeded to march into the house and snap orders at my 70 year old mother, informing her to sit in the living room while I was escorted outside and given brand new, shiny arm bands to go with my leather ones. That would be handcuffs.

So your friendly neighborhood author was once again (that makes twice in a matter of three months) placed in the back of a cruiser with no shoes or socks and escorted down to the police department and thrown in a cage when no victim could be found in this zip code or any other. Obviously being an ardent Constitutionalist and Liberty activist, this pissed me off. I was charged with disorderly conduct and the arresting officer put down, as it was relayed to me, that my own mother and sister had filed the charges (lie number 1) and thrown behind bars.

I tried lying on the wooden bench and cooling off and for a while that worked. I tried meditating, but let’s face it; when you’ve already pulled a Dr. McCoy and had your Kentucky bourbon rush through the veins, meditating is kind of the last thing you want to do. However I did manage to do a few yoga stretches on the itchy blue blanket they provided. Then it struck me that I was being deprived of my freedom before any due process of law. I had been enjoying a drink, as all of you oft do and that is not a crime; in my own domicile no doubt. Yet there I was sitting on the floor of a sticky cell because Depty Dawg had to leave his cruiser more than twice in a night. So in Irish tradition I stood my ground and found the nearest surveillance camera, to which I eye balled it with my best all Seeing Eye and gave the biggest, longest William Wallace speech I could regarding the Constitution and the natural Rights all of us have. I probably threw in some threats of suing the city and the state, to which were obviously not idle. Of course I heard a few chuckles from the control desk regarding my passion of the ten amendments all the officers down at the Warner Robins pledged an oath to and heard nothing but crickets. Too bad you guys weren’t there. It was a really good speech. I promise.

african-american-man-in-handcuffs-300x198Then I sat back down on the bench and shortly after that I watched as the a typical happened. The po-po dragged a young black male into the cells and slammed him into a cubicle smaller than mine. Me being me, I proceeded to walk to his cell and ask him his story through a six by six window of rebar. The young black male was no older than 18 or 19 and scared white. It was the first time he had been brought in and the reason he had been brought in was because he and his girlfriend happened to pull up into an apartment complex where another young black male had been arrested. That’s it. That’s why he was arrested. So I commenced to inform him of his Rights and told him to keep his mouth shut and demand a jury trial after pleading not guilty. When the officer on duty came to break it up I asked for my one phone call. Now pay attention because this part is funny.

He escorted me out of the cells and to the phone. He stood me in front of the phone and told me to make my phone call, to which I smiled and replied “Okie Dokie”. So me being me, I dialed 911 and when dispatch answered I told them I had been kidnapped by the Warner Robins Police Department and was being held against my will without due process of law. Ain’t I a stinker? The deputy on duty quickly snatched the phone from me and hung it up. All I could do was muster an ear to ear grin because after all I was telling the truth.

Things went down hill from there as you can imagine. Depty Dawg James swaggered in the cells and threw more shackles on me to take me out to Perry where the Houston County Detention Center resides behind the courthouse. My time there is an entirely different story, so for now I will leave you with this little diddy of my week. Glad all of you are reading. Namaste.
Spider-Man Fights for Mary Jane

Spider-Man Revealed

Next: Daniel Louis Crumpton: Public Enemy Number…Whah? Part Two

Jason Patrick: The New Captian America



So I didn’t get the chance to attend the republican convention in Athens Georgia this go around because quite frankly I can’t be everywhere at once for everyone at once…yet. However there is no doubt the Spirit that’s within you and within me was most certainly in attendance. Jason Patrick is a pimp. That’s really all there is to say about him. He is one stone, cold heartbreaker of a pimp and flowing through his veins is the blood of the Patriots that came before him pumping through his heart of gold. You know, a lot of men take vows and a lot of men take oaths but rarely do you find a man willing to risk life, limb, reputation and treasure to not only keep those vows; but go above and beyond them. Jason Patrick is most certainly one of these men.


Sirmans on the Mount

Sirmans on the Mount

My good friend and fellow Patriot, Curtis Sirmans, was kind enough to buy me a drink at the local Gold Cup bowling alley last night and while I stirred my jack and coke we caught up on most of the events I have missed in the political realm in the past few months. When Curtis cracked me that sinister smile and relayed to me the story of Jason Patrick’s open carry demonstration at the convention I just had to ask if there was video of it. Thank God there was and the two of us eagerly returned to my home base (that’s my mom’s house, chuckle chuckle) to pull it up on Curtis’s channel-ArcaneSoldierX-and I had to lean back in my Captain’s chair and smile with one hand over my mouth at what I saw. I just had to share it with you guys because when someone sets an example it needs to be shouted from the rooftops. So here you go, enjoy the taste of testicular fortitude.



Jason Patrick -Captain America-

Jason Patrick -Captain America-

So here you see Jason Patrick with a gun on his hip. Does this make him violent? No. Does this make him a terrorist? No. Does this mean he has ill will for the folks in the convention? Absolutely not. It simply means that he has picked up his Constitution, and in it read that he has a God given Right to bear arms. So being a sane and rational man, Jason Patrick locks and loads and makes his way towards the convention. But uh oh, somebody doesn’t like this man exercising his 2nd Amendment because it’s scary looking to see a citizen packing heat…and oh…the guvna just rode by too. That’s Governor Nathan Deal to you folks not in Georgia. That’s right, the same Governor I wrote an open letter to a few months back about the new driver’s license fiasco being a national database for the department of homeland insecurity. Oddly enough, after that letter was written ZENINTHECAR.COM got a brand new subscriber…Hi ya, Janet Napolitano. Thanks for reading our stuff. Good to know we have readers up there in Langley Virginia. Wink, Wink, nod nod.


So when the video picks up we see our own personal Captain America with his hands up, as calm as a Hindu cow surrounded by off duty police officers. Homeboy keeps his composure. Keeps his heart rate below 80 and simply asks the men whose salary he pays if he has committed any crimes. This is genius. Jason Patrick is assuming the role of master by only asking questions and by knowing that though the “authorities” may try to generate fear within him, so long as he knows he is in the right and never doubts it he will come out as clean as the driven snow.


Jason Patrick managed, with his quick wits and keen intellect, to get the police officers to admit that they were off duty and had been privately hired. So the question I have is this. If you are off duty, making a profit; why pray tell are you wearing the uniform I and other taxpayers supplied you with; and why pray tell are you using police cruisers taxpayers bought and fueled? Now maybe I am slack on the law…but you folks know better than that…but isn’t that a felony? Isn’t that fraud? Aren’t you able to be punished with violating the rights of all taxpayers by using public property for personal gain? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s a prosecutable offense officer who had the nerve to illegally detain my friend for simply exercising his Rights. As a matter of fact if Jason Patrick saw so fit he could probably file charges against you to which you would be accountable to him for $15000.00 or 8 years in prison for every infraction of his civil rights. And in this video his civil rights were infracted upon several times.


Jason Patrick was one, illegally detained. This means his free movement was stopped by someone claiming to be a law enforcement agent. This law enforcement agent did not properly identify himself because one; we don’t pay for law enforcement. We pay for PEACE officers. Second, he is required to show three forms of identification in order to act within the authority we have granted him and this officer did not comply with such mandates of being an employee of the state. The state being the people. He did not show his I.D., nor his business card which has his photo, name, and badge number.


This officer is clearly confused and off balance when confronted with the cold steel eyes of a man on a mission to prove a point. When surrounded by other officers of the “law” we see them do very little but clock Jason’s piece. As if they have been trained at police academy to view all citizens as suspects. This is a little disheartening and once again Jason Patrick keeps his composure and continues to ask questions in order to make the backwards thinking authorities understand that it is they who have this situation flipped and reversed.


Let’s also not forget that Jason Patrick is attending a republican function. The Republican Party claims to be all about the Constitution. They claim to support the ten amendments and all the Rights contained therein. You would think that a party making such claims would welcome Jason Patrick in with his gun on hip with open arms. You would think that a bunch of folks who hold their hand over their hearts when the pledge to the Republic is recited would smile and shower him with open arms of acceptance and love for being bold enough to exercise his Rights. But they didn’t. They required him to surrender his firearm to attend their beauty pageant.


Patriots don’t have to fire a shot to win a Revolution. All we have to do is show the hypocrisy of those on the government dole. At the convention in Athens Jason Patrick most certainly performed his duty befitting the Founders of this great nation and to that I tip my hat. So if any of you see my man on the streets its best you buy him a beer for making the stand you couldn’t. And in like manner my friend and fellow Patriot, Jason Patrick owes me a beer as well.


Way to go Cap. All of us here at ZENINTHECAR.Com dust off our right knee and bow to your back bone made of the sternest stuff.


Liberty Movement Roundtable Discussion


Daniel Louis Crumpton

A few months ago, before the presidential farce of an election, I had the chance to sit down with some of the best Patriots in the state of Georgia such as Valerie Sargent Martin, Jason Patrick, and Solomon Pinkins to discuss the problems our Republic faces in this generation. This after hours episode of the Valerie Sargent Martin show covers issues such as post traumatic stress disorder, problems in the birthing industry, Ron Paul and the ever expanding police state. ZENINTHECAR.Com has been a little lite on politics lately and I figured this little gem of a roundtable discussion should be dusted off and viewed again because it shows that the youth of this country are very much in tune with what is going on in our government; and most certainly what needs to be fixed. We hope you enjoy it and that it reinvigorates your desire for Freedom and Liberty to be passed to our children.

And to clear up any confusion; though in the interview I am called ‘Jeff’ and speak of myself in the third person it should be noted that at the time it was not entirely prudent for me to use my lawful name due to controversial issues I was bringing to light in the state of Georgia such as the national I.D. and FEMA installations. So if you see me in person please don’t be confused and simply address me as Daniel. Also I would like to add that since the taping of this show I have completely kicked my energy drink habit and for that I get a gold star. Please comment below. Namaste’.

Video streaming by Ustream

Love and Marriage: The Silent Civil War

D.L. Crumpton

D.L. Crumpton

Marriage. There, I typed it. It was difficult. It was cold; it didn’t feel too good to type out. My fingers actually locked up around the two R’s. I have been putting this one off for a while because the bringing up of such a subject is like a raw nerve exposed to the air…if it sucks, it hurts like hell. However, since marriage is in the news lately and people are now discussing what it means to be married, and of course what the definition of marriage is I feel a little liberated to share my views on the subject.

Two people fall in Love. It’s good. It’s really good. They took the time to snuggle up and share all their embarrassing guilty pleasures as well as their belt notches of pride. There they are; naked and unashamed. Nothing makes any logical sense, and there is no reason in the world these two people should be together. Everyone around them wags their finger and says there is no way it can work. The whole world is against them and that’s just fine by them. They are in Love, and as we all know, Love is damn near synonymous with insanity. No logic, no reason, no plans, no nothing. They just grab each other by the hand and throw all caution to the wind as they run off into the sunset. Its reckless, its unplanned, its perfect. Then what happens? The unfortunate happens. These two run off and do exactly what everyone else does; they get married. Of course this isn’t a bad thing on its surface. Oh no, in fact the notion of getting married is quite admirable if you ask me. However getting married in the United States of America does require a bit of ignorance that unbeknownst to the two; is actually a form of bondage.

First let’s talk about marriage. What is it? What is it suppose to be? Well for starters its two people making the claim that they share a Love together that defies all logic and reason and if the world has to end for them to be together then so be it. Its two people throwing all caution to the wind and coming together in not only a physical way, but a spiritual way as well. Of course this union is blessed by God, because God Loves the illogical. God Loves it when people let go of all their schemes, all their plans, and give in to the emotion burning in their bones. Things are looking up, things are looking good. Until the marriage license comes up. When that happens, Love goes out the window and it’s down to business.

slavery-chainsBusiness. That’s exactly what the marriage license is. It isn’t based on Love. It isn’t based on Trust, and it isn’t based off of mutual fidelity. It is a piece of paper two people sign when they make a contract with the state. The moment that they do; things go south. They were told this is what they must do, after all everyone before them did it and that’s just the way things are. And they believe it. Now it’s legal. Now there are ties that bind which cannot be undone with the same amount of Love, Trust, and Fidelity as what brought the two together. Now there is mutual property, there are mutual bills, there are mutual responsibilities. This is what Love sounds like when it dies.
If two people Love one another none of this really means a damn. The only thing that matters, the only thing that lasts is that emotion of Love. Everything else is simply distraction from the Truth of their Love. But things in this country are never so simple. No, when the spark of two lives ignite the powers that be run in with their contracts and their legalities and rape the purity of Emotion.

The marriage license is nothing more than another form of control by the state. A license is permission to do that which is otherwise illegal. This is why James Bond has a license to kill, because it is otherwise illegal to kill. Of course people don’t think of these things when they are blinded and clouded by Love; they just do what others have done. In actuality what they are doing is entering into a three way contract with the state. The man, the woman, and the state; and of course the two never bother to read the fine print because if they did they would know that this contract of business actually gives the state the right to dictate the upbringing of any products of marriage. That means children. This is a dangerous concept for those of us in the Liberty Movement because as we all know; our children are the ones who will overturn the problems in the government. If they are subject to the state, then they will have that many more tethers to break free from before they can be effective in reversing this totalitarian state back into a Republic.

individual-state-yin-yangUnbeknownst to many, the marriage license wasn’t instituted until after the Civil War, and when implemented it was for no other purpose than to keep track of recently liberated slaves. It was to keep track of those who were deemed inferior, and tag the product of all those named inferior. It was the states way of keeping people on the reservation so to speak, and of course the American people ate it up, hook, line and sinker. They looked to the perks, they looked to the privilege, and they looked to the legal accessibility. The American people allowed marriage to become a business…shame on us all. Those of us in the Liberty Movement should look to such a contractual piece of paper with contempt. We should not seek permission from the state to bless our unions; rather we should bless our unions under God and God alone. So what is marriage? Marriage is the coming together of souls under the authority of God and God alone. The state is not welcome.

Ultimately this topic will drift to the rights of homosexuals, and this is a topic I do not intend to shy away from because I have strong opinions regarding the matter. Gay marriage is in the news, it’s on your face book feeds, and it’s all over YouTube. Everyone is expressing their opinion and I would ask no less. As a follower of the man commonly known as Jesus Christ, I have to sit down and contemplate this issue in light of His teachings. I have to be able to reconcile the Truth of His Word with the reality of homosexuals wanting to get married in my country. Do I react in anger? Do I react in fear? Or maybe there is another way to look at this subject with the art of Wisdom, Justice, and Love.

I am a proud heterosexual. I Love the female form and all the little tid bits that come along with it. Some may say this is a vice but;… whatever. Women are art and there is nothing that can make me sway from that opinion. But I do have to observe the fact that my opinion of women isn’t exactly shared by everyone. No, in fact there are men and women who share completely different opinions regarding the matter and I am forced to stop and contemplate such a dichotomy. There are people in this world who do not share my sexuality, my spirituality, or my perspective and for many this can be a fracture on the mind. How do you maintain your identity in such an area when there are others who do not? Namely homosexuals? Is it easy for me to understand the homosexual? No, of course not. In fact I find the notion a little uneasy because I can’t for the life of me understand how a man can’t look at a woman with adoration and worship. But hey, to each his own. They exist, and they exist in the same world I occupy so I must find some type of understanding regarding the matter. It can’t be a violent understanding either, it must be one of peace because of the teachings I observe.

jesus-christ-our-savior-pamela-johnsonIn the book of Matthew we read “For there are some eunuchs, which were so born from their mother’s womb; and there are some eunuchs, which were made eunuchs of men; and there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake. He that is able to receive it, let him receive it.” Obviously some will take these words and believe Jesus of Nazareth was talking about men without a penis, and they would be idiotic. In the proper context anyone reading will know that he is referring to homosexuals because…gasp…they existed back then too. And what was His attitude towards them? Simple and peaceful. It sounded a lot like “Hey, why the hell are you sweating what other people do? You do you, let them do them.”

Are homosexuals evil, or from the devil? No, of course not. I happen to know many homosexuals and find that heterosexuals could learn a lot from their example and might even prosper a little if they can only manage to overcome their bigotry and listen for fifteen minutes. Homosexuals are trying to tell people that Love doesn’t have definition or borders. Granted, some homosexuals are militant and violent but then again rape of women by men is as old as time. Some of the homosexuals I know are the most kind; caring, loving, and artistic people that I have ever seen walk this Earth. If I am expected to believe that they, deep down in their core, are evil and ruthless people…then I snub my nose to such expectations. They are people, the same as you and I and they can no more stop the flow of Love than you or I. I cannot understand any person or institution that would have me believe different when the reality of such supernal unions is evident in front of my face. I may not be able to completely identify with their choices; in fact I don’t. However what I can do is respect that their choices are theirs to make and not mine. For this reason I must stand in opposition to gay marriage.

I do not want homosexual marriage to be legalized in any way shape or form. This is not because I believe homosexuals are less than I, or that they do not deserve the same rights and privileges as I. I simply do not want them to end up in the same trap the state supplied the heterosexuals. If two people are in Love then they are free to make any contracts with one another that they see fit. If they want their possessions willed to another, they may contract that. If they wish for another to be their power of attorney, they may do that as well. There is no reason whatsoever for homosexual marriage to be legalized because marriage was never intended to be legal to begin with. Marriage is Lawful and when two people agree to such a union no state can stand between them. I suppose the reason I do not believe in homosexual marriage is because I do not believe in heterosexual marriage…and if you understand the tenants of Freedom and Liberty, you wouldn’t either.

Further educate yourself on what the marriage license is and what obligations it puts those contracting with it under. I may not agree with the following teachings, however I do agree with the information. Suspend your bias, suspend your indoctrination, and learn the Truth. Namaste’.

Marriage License

Birth Certificate

Talk Radio: Sucky Sucky Five Bucky

When you were a teenager did you ever find yourself in the awkward situation of having to figure out a bra strap? Well, just as a pointer here’s what you do; two fingers above with thumb below and snap your fingers. You are very welcome. Now enjoy the view because all the studs are still going to be busy flexing their muscles while you go for the win my friend. This is the way it is in life and this is the way it is in politics.

sean hannity

Yabba dabba doo

I have made it a point to avoid talk radio for the past few years because it just became this circus of hypocrisy and commercialism pretending not to be. People want to believe that Rush, Hannity, and the rest of the pundit league are actually on the radio because they care but when the commercials and ads come on they suspend their logic and reason. Rest assured, Glenn Beck and all the other sweater vest whores aren’t sold on the ideals you are sold on. At the end of the day what they are doing is selling you air time. The show isn’t their words; the show is the commercials you wait through until they come back on the air waves to pat your patriotism. Sure, at one point they probably had passion. At one point they might have actually cared about this country but make no mistake that somewhere in that sea they got lost in the ocean of advertising and ratings. They have equated numbers to success, and success to people conforming. But all of you really paying attention know not to trust the words of the neo conservative talking heads because you have seen their hypocrisy up close and personal.

When the last election was hot and heated not a one of them wanted to give Ron Paul or his message a shot. No, they called him a nut job. They demeaned him and his supporters and whole heartedly backed the republican nominee, Mitt Romney, even though just months prior none of them would support him at all. But when the party spoke, the talking heads all fell in line. And why? It wasn’t because they believed in Mitt Romney or that he was actually a conservative; no it was because they wanted uniformity over principle. They wanted the illusion of justice rather than justice itself. They flip flopped. They shifted ideology. They metamorphosed into what you wanted them to be, what you needed them to be. And in doing so the ratings went up.

black-horse-and-sea-wallpapers_12032_1600x1200So just for kicks and giggles I happened to hop in the Silverado (brought to you by Chevrolet, a company I could care less about but just so happens to produce the vehicle I get around in and doesn’t pay me one cent for mentioning them) and turn on the radio. What do I hear? I hear the likes of Bill Bennett and Laura Ingraham gushing their love for Rand Paul and his prospects for 2016. Is it because they believe in his ideology? I don’t think so considering they called his father, who shares the same ideology, a nut ball. Do they believe in the policies of the Paul family? Well based off their past diatribes I wouldn’t think so. So why the sudden love affair with Rand? Well it should be obvious to all honest observers and it’s because he is kicking the ass of the federal government. He is doing the one thing his father instilled within him and us as well and that’s to never compromise and never back down. Rand is distinguishing himself as a man who is fed up and no longer willing to play politics over personal gain and that type of attitude is not only contagious, it’s good for the soul. People are beginning to feel it. People are beginning to believe it within themselves and when that happens no amount of propaganda can stop it. It is becoming obvious that when he throws his name in the ring for President of the United States the majority will line up and vote for him…so the pundits must align themselves now so they can appear to be prophets.

Hannity and the likes of his ilk, they need the creds in order to continue hocking you junk you don’t need. How do they do that? Simple, they lick their thumbs; stick it in the air, and whichever way it blows is the way they will blow too. They have never believed in our principles, they have simply tried to sell them. If you have any doubt of this do yourself a favor and listen to Glenn Beck talk about Ron Paul five or six years ago compared to today. After doing so, if you still support these pundits I would advise you take a knife to your nose so you can cut it off to spite your own face.