photo from marketingforhippies.com

As a writer, I am never one to try and waste a witty tale or clever little story. If anything I know that in order to be a truly prolific writer, the pen must be fueled by experience. While on hiatus I have come across a strange little of obsession of mine as of late; triggered by a trip to the attic on a cool and rainy day. After shuffling some boxes around I came across something I hadn’t really paid much attention to for the past decade, give or take some change. It was a steel lockbox, an old safe my dad use to keep his stacks of rolled pocket change in after collecting for a few months. I suppose this too was a little obsession I picked up from him-emptying the change from your spent cash from the day into a jar or a container; saving up for something special you will feel you have earned. Perhaps even the occasional guilty pleasure. Nevertheless, over time he grew weary of that particular safe and it passed down to me to who would use it for an altogether different purpose.

I was a very young man at the time, going through all the “life changes” most, if not all of you were going through and keeping in mind this was before the advent of social media. There were no private message boxes to drown your sorrows in, there were no little green dots giving you options of who you would vent to, or allow to vent with you. This was beeper age. This was the age when notes passed in class looked like a prehistoric Facebook thread. This was the age before the blog where the only outlet a teenager trying to figure out what the hell this thing is all about was a diary (typically for chicks, guys don’t keep diaries, it just doesn’t sound right) or a journal (see, doesn’t journal sound much more masculine and serious? I know, right?).

Now, for those of us who kept these little logs of our life, we can attest that these black and white speckled, composition books or bound diaries secured with a lock quickly became our closest companions. They were the keepers of our deepest, darkest feelings in a time of insecurity. They were our mother and father confessors while the winds of change were roaring in our ears and the sand beneath our feet was fleeting like water. While in them, we knew we would receive no judgment, no condemnation, and no argumentation. We would only find a silent friend letting us bleed on the page. Some of you merely piddled with the idea and kept one or two, thought they were silly and tucked them and the idea of it away. This was not the case with me. I am a writer; I was born weaving looms of tales pulled from the ether. So needless to say, my journals would be perceived with much more dramatic intensity than the journals of most youths of different callings.

In the age before the internet had started to put on its big boy pants, a writer had to make whatever they could into a magnum opus and reach any audience, by any means necessary. My own personal journals would be intended for an audience. But I wondered at thirteen years of age; how to solve the logical dilemma. How could I keep a journal with my deepest, darkest, most intimate thoughts and feelings about myself, about the people around me, about my family; and yet still write for an audience? There had to be a loophole, and I thought about finding it. After some thought it was shown to me in a glimpse of the Divine that the simplest answer to the problem was to write for an audience that was removed from the players of my life by either space or time. This is kind of like a writer’s “Prime Directive”; maintain the third wall between writer and reader. Blur the lines of the written words from the events that inspired them, but leave enough breadcrumbs to let the audience know those words were indeed inspired by truth. This is the safest way to throw hints to the characters that they are just playing a part, but not smash them in the face with a frying pan of this notion. The only thing left was to figure out what audience would fit within those parameters.

I suppose at that age when the world began waking up in new ways, I sorta felt it in my bones that whatever my life was going to be, it was going to be interesting and I had every rebellious, teenage cell in my body screaming I was deep, down determined to screw up…a whole lot, along the way. But hey, it’s not all bad. Just as convinced of that I was equally convinced that I would get a lot of stuff right. That I would have victories after defeats, resurrections after deaths, rises from the ashes. I would have foe and friend, battles and retreats, the truest and deepest loves as well as the most cruel and bitter of hatreds. Yet that notion of a writer’s pen needing to be fueled by experience pops its head up again. “You signed up to be a writer, kiddo,” I would say to myself, “it’s gonna come with the territory.”

The logical conclusion after this internal, intellectual rolling over of an idea was that I would write my journals for my children. It was my intention to pen my life and create a road map for my future progeny, should I be so fortunate to be blessed with them. I would keep them safe and ensure that when my children reached the age I had been when I first started journaling, I would be able to let them read of all my mistakes, zigs and zags, so just maybe….just maybe they would mike wiser choices than I. It was my hopes to have them thumb through the pages of their father’s life and KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is nothing wrong with them and they are most certainly never alone. But who the hell wants to read their parents old journals right? This was going to be tricky, I remember thinking. After pushing through all the details I finally ended up just sitting down with some good music, maybe some tea or some coffee in a small bedroom lit with a few candles. I would be as close to the flickering lights as I could get as I curled over and penned them to the tune of symphonic Led Zeppelin, or an early Radiohead album. All of them with title pages, introductions, prologues, chapters and blank pages in the back intended for an altogether different purpose. After every writing session I would wrap them in a red clothe, place them in the steel safe and ensure they were secured from prying eyes.

20141002_081218Over time, the pages written filled so many composition books that the steel safe my father had given to me would no longer serve the purpose I had first assigned it. Another form of holding my journals came along, but being so attached to the box out of sentimentality I gave it a new purpose. From then on I would keep letters, notes, pictures and mementos, all from the times my journal was chronicled. And while in the attic and seeing this steel box for the first time in years, all these thoughts had come back to me in a flash. The moment I saw the scribbling on top, secured by some of my dad’s black, electric tape which read “The Lives of Daniel Louis” on top with hourglasses and Egyptian looking eyes etched on either side to boot, over a decade of memories exploded in my face. Yeah, I always had a flare for the dramatic.
As outside the pattering of rain on the roof and the streaks on the windows accompanied a darkly lit afternoon; inside a comfortably cool den, my dog Hannibal and I curled up and began thumbing through the contents of the steel lock box. In no particular order we looked at Polaroid’s from my youth with the ever changing face of yours truly mixed in amongst years of the ever changing faces of the cast of characters in my life. After so many pictures and so many old letters I was provoked to go digging for the journals themselves. I pulled out some rather weighty milk crates (the final resting place of the pages of my life after several moves and new “life changes”) which contained stacks of composition books with my handwriting, as well as others, within the pages. Some dull, some a little blurry, some fine, thin and distinct…and of course the occasional illegible. At first I flipped through them at random and read an entry here or an entry there. Hannibal simply gave a huff as he watched my expressions change with each little read. Sometimes I was embarrassed at what I read, sometimes I was sad, some I was laughing, some I was simply holding a sinister smile, some were making me melt with heartache and fondness; but the ones Hannibal didn’t huff at were the ones that profoundly moved me and caused me pause. A kernel of wisdom from the mouth of a babe, some quote or poem from my younger self that reached in and moved my present self.

When those lines would come across my eyes, I would stop reading and look up and to the right, Hannibal would not huff rather he would raise an eyebrow, or tilt his head as well as if to say ‘Ah, there you are’ in the fashionable wise and caring composure of the companions that we all know dogs truly are. After taking a break from the random thumbing I decided to put the journals back in chronological order and begin reading them in the fashion they were intended to be read. Like a story, with chapters and sometimes illustrations, all pacing the rate of my life and my growth; the experience I was obtaining as I walked my path. After so many pages or so many composition books I would take a break to refresh my coffee or tea and put the pictures in the order of the story, to file the notes and letters with the appropriate time frame. Then it was back to reading, locked up memories being liberated from the catacombs of my mind. As I laid the written word along-side the pictures and little treasures from the past side by side, and took a few steps back I realized what I was building. Eerily enough, a few feet away my desktop started blaring, via Pandora, Pink, Floyd’s “Another brick in the wall.” I made a mental note to watch “The Butterfly Effect” on Netflix that night then got back to the pile of memories.

There are only so many hours in a day, therefore my reading continued for the next few days. Occasionally I would check the internet for new messages or notifications, maybe send an instant message to a friend or two about some of the things I was reading in them, perhaps get some philosophical or spiritual conversations going to better help me understand why going back over my life had become such a strong obsession in those few days. Some of them were of the opinion, or so strongly inclined to lean towards the idea that I was living in the past. Though they were gentle and kind, there was the obvious undertone of “the best thing for you to do, buddy is take all of that out back, throw it in the fire pit and light a fire!” Yet then again there were some friends of the opposite opinion. They would say that knowing me on a more personal basis than others, and knowing how I think; it was perfectly healthy for me to be perusing my past. Those friends would insist that it was therapeutic to see where you have come from so you will know where you are going. A few of them were strongly convinced with the theory that I had actually died and had found my higher self within the akashic records in the only form I could conceive of at this evolution. Therefore I had to “re-member” who I was before I died so I could reincarnate and get it right this time. I gotta tell you; those are my favorite friends to chat with at about 3:33 A.M. when I haven’t slept in a few days.

2851683772_2c7afb72d1-470When I managed to break away from the keyboard and the tiny pings chiming from my phone, I would take my walk and meditate on all of this. In between that I posted old pictures or a line from my journal or a quote to my wall. Sometimes I would just put a random song or video that reminded me of my younger self up, with no other intent than to see how it would affect my psychology and self-image having looked across the ocean of a decade or more. How would this refreshed recollection of my footprints in the sands of history, however deep they may be, change me? How would it set me on a new course? As I scurried through them I began to notice that there were indeed blatant cycles within my life. Most too astounding to be a coincidence, not that I believe in those tedious little things to begin with. There were definite patterns in the years that separated imaginary dates on calendars stuffed in a drawer and marked with special dates and occasions. Many were reemerging in my life in the present or the very recent past. I was seeing the signs and the mile markers that would allow me to change or break cycles I no longer wished to experience to those more pleasant to live out. I was navigating from sadness to happiness, drifting from heartbreak to a more supernal love, skating from anger and rage to peace and calm. The road maps I had intended for my children were, at this time, a road map for me.

I found it funny how people in your life that seem so permanent one moment, can be gone in the blink of an eye in the very next. Friends and family through the years can be compassionate and a support some years, and the most vicious of adversaries the next few. Births, deaths, marriages, divorces, relocations and incarcerations. All of these things serve as little hiccups in the stream of life. After diving into this indulgence of self-rediscovery and having my eyes opened to a great many things about who I was before I nearly tasted the shot at a family and lost it, I wondered what had compelled me to cease from the habit of writing a personal journal. Was it because I thought that soon my daughter or son would come and there was no longer a need to continue because if they don’t figure life out by that time, they ain’t never gonna get it? Was it because my life had become more stabilized at the time I quit and there was no longer anything interesting to write about? Was it because my journals stopped when I met who I thought would be the love of my life and I no longer needed them as an outlet because I believed I would always have her? Well, who the hell knows, right? I just chalked it up to, one day they began and one day they came to an end and that’s that, and that’s all.

Of course, the question was nagging the back of my mind for the next few days, though I did my best to shoo it away. As one does, one morning I find myself waking up in a hotel a little before 4:15 A.M., having to remember if I was in Birmingham Alabama, Nashville Tennessee or Panama City Florida. As usual, I did the morning routine of waking up; coffee, shower and then jump into some clothes before heading downstairs to the lobby. A fellow traveler was already turning in the keys and signing us out as I came down the stairs, there was a short whisper from the hotel clerk, and then a glance back to me as I passed by and outside to board my transportation for the day. Later in the day when my travelling companion had the chance he gave a smile with a nod and said “You should have heard what that clerk said this morning.”
“Oh yeah, what was that?” I asked.
“He saw you coming down the stairs and paused for a second and then he said ‘Man,…I bet that guy has seen some shit’.” My friend replied.

The two of us shared a chuckle not really trying to pinpoint the meaning of the comment, but finding it ironic nonetheless. And yet, though this was a witty little exchange (and those of you who know me personally will surely get the wit of it) it still strung a reflective chord within me. As the events of my past were fresh in my mind, I could certainly agree with the hotel clerk on his assessment. This reminded me of a quote I had written in one of those old journals. It was “In my opinion, Life is good. Not because of good fortune, but because of good experience. And sometimes that includes tragedy. –Daniel Louis Crumpton-1998.”

At around lunch time these things were on my mind as I waltzed through a local deli looking for a bit of sushi to sustain me for the day. Having never met a stranger, I struck up a conversation with an employee stocking the freshly made goods in the coolers and it naturally lead to me being a writer from out of state and doing a bit of travelling from time to time. He expressed how that sounded like a lot of fun and then inquired if I had a family or not. I have to admit, that question felt like a sucker punch to the gut. The instant image of “family” appeared to me as a woman holding my hand while we stood outside of a little pink house complete with white picket fence, grappling with 2.5 kids. My path had not brought me to such a conclusion and I was forced to answer the question in my mind with a definite “No”…but before it hit my tongue another path of thought came to me.

zenfriends - Copy


No, my current location in this Universe did not lead me to a wife and 2.5 kids to pass my years of experience to, but that did not mean I did not have a family. One has to ask the question as to what a family is. Can people who have no blood connection be family? Is it possible that people who have come into your life by what appears to be a random series of events, yet affect you greatly, be family? Is it necessary to have grown up with them and have all the same views, or are disagreements, distrusts and shared triumphs through weakness just as likely with those you have only known in the current stage of your life and if so isn’t this what a family is? People who apparently with no control of their own end up walking similar paths with similar heartaches and lessons from the so called hard knocks and lift you up just when you need it, knowing you will do the same for them if God be willing. Is this not the very epitome of what family is? The faces of those around me now, in my personal and professional life are here because they are exactly the ones I need to help me on the long road home. So without further hesitation I looked the employee in the eyes and gave him a firm “Yes. I do have a family as a matter of fact.”

Many miles and hours later in the wee bits of the morning I crept into my office and put down my bags, lit a few candles, turned on some shuffled music low enough for me to drift back into the dance of it, sat down and began scribbling for the first time in a long time, “How to Rise from Ashes” on the second or third page of a fresh, clean, brand new composition book. As they say, a life worth living is a life worth chronicling.

20141002_084310I know that ZENINTHECAR.COM is on its break and the crew of ZEN IN THECAR T.V. are all off finding their own voice and passion in their own way, as I am doing myself; but I suppose some of the recent private conversations I have had with many of my friends compelled me to take out the time to put these thoughts on the page regardless of the timing. I know many of you out there are at points in your life where great change is all about. They could be good, they could be bad, and they could be ones you never thought would happen or that you always knew in your soul indeed would. They may be times of loss and weariness of soul or the exhilarating days of a new start. No matter the circumstance or your current lot in life; take my advice and never be tempted by anyone or anything to put down the pen of your own life.

With all that being said; here’s a little ditty (and a taste of what’s to come next season) I would like to send out to all my family and friends. It was put together with all of you in mind. Enjoy.


N.D.A.A. headed to the Senate. Who voted for it?



ATLANTA, GA. – Government Bill H.R. 4435 (N.D.A.A) for Fiscal Year 2015 has overwhelmingly passed the House (325 – 98) and is headed for the Senate. In a weird turn of events, every member of Congress for the State of Georgia, with the exception of Congressman John Lewis (D), voted in favor of this bill.

H.R. 4435 is riddled big government spending to the tune of $602 billion and a continuation of the war effort in Afghanistan until FY2018.

In what seemed like a “no-brainer” (based on what we know from congressional members seeking higher office, each of them vehemently opposing this legislation), every congressman in the State of Georgia voted for this bill – with the exception of Congressman John Lewis.

In an interview with Congressman Paul Broun before the Savannah debate, he stated that the indefinite detention provisions were not in the 2014 N.D.A.A. and he was correct.

So, why am I attacking Broun? It’s simple: He made himself out to be a staunch opponent of just about anything N.D.A.A. I am here to prove that his assertions of opposition and my assertion of opposition are two very different things.

The previsions are in the Authorization for use of Military Force (AUMF), which was created under George W. Bush. However, in 2012, Broun voted for H.R. 4310 N.D.A.A. 2012, which contained sections 1021 and 1022 in which Congress vested the power in themselves to authorize the indefinite detention of an American Citizen without due process of the law. Now that the bill has been changed, congress relinquished this power back to the president – and the N.D.A.A. only “upholds current law”, that being the AUMF.

So, the next time you hear anyone say that the N.D.A.A. doesn’t allow for the indefinite detention of American Citizens, you can call them out on their nonsense. You are now armed with the verifiable truth that the provisions remain, only in the hands of the President and the FISA courts.

In Section 1075, the FAA Modernization and Reform Act is again brought up, with continued authorization to allow the testing of unmanned aerial vehicles (UAV) or as we like to call them, drones. Thanks to the 2012 N.D.A.A., congress mandated that 35,000 drones be integrated into our national airspace, by 2015.

In the North Georgia Mountains, Gilmer County residents fought back against the Federal Government and the private sector from taking control of the counties airport, preventing it from being used as a drone testing facility. Thanks to the late, Commissioner Randy Bell, the opposition to this program was successful in denying the State of Georgia, Georgia Tech Research Institute and Federal Government from obtaining the authorization by the Board of Commissioners to use their facility for such programs. However, the bill remains and they have moved on to other areas of the nation where they don’t need permission to use the lands in which they conduct the data-link testing.

One very important issue pertaining to this bill is found in Section 1216:

United States plan for sustaining the Afghanistan National Security Forces through the end of fiscal year 2018

Yes, you read that right. We are continuing the war effort in Afghanistan until FY2018. Contingency operations will continue for a very long time. American lives will continue to be lost and innocent men, women and children will continue to die via drone warfare.

We at zeninthecar will update you on the status of the bill as it moves through the Senate.


Many thanks to Shelia Aliens for the help editing this article! Be sure to visit her YouTube account and subscribe!

Video’s from above:

[su_youtube url=”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MInYnV9Edcg”]

Zen interviews Congressman Paul Broun

[su_vimeo url=”https://vimeo.com/64638500″]

Commissioner Randy Bell (RIP Good fellow) meeting with Steve Justice over drones in Gilmer County.

H.R. 4435 (NDAA 2015) House Rules Committee Hearing

WASHINGTON– On Monday, May 19th, a hearing in the House Rules Committee was held pertaining to H.R. 4435, (National Defense Authorization Act, 2015) as Chairman Pete Sessions began with the introduction and opening remarks. Congressman McKeon, a retiring Republican Representative of California’s 25th District, was allowed to take to the mic and lay out an overview of what would be later seen as a bill of damning numbers and even more setbacks. In his opening statement, Mr. McKeon made mention of the cost of H.R. 4435, to the tune of $521 Billion allocated for National Defense and $79 Billion for overseas contingency, consistent with the 2013 bipartisan budget agreement. Mr. McKeon noted that there were 195 amendments offered (100 by the Republican’s and 95 by Democrats) of which 154 were adopted. The N.D.A.A. was passed out of committee with a unanimous 61-0 vote. McKeon noted that the bill would increase troop pay as well as the continued war effort in Afghanistan. In an attempt to broaden the bill, it was met with a setback. The Budget Control Act and the lack of resources stand in the way of the expansions that are included into this bill. According to McKeon,

“My principle that I have tried to stick to this year, in pushing forward, is, to Save as much as we could. We were given a budget by the Secretary and the Chairman of the Joint Chief’s that cut more than we cut. What I’m hoping for next year (hopefully) we’ll do something about sequestration -Get something we can work with- better. Otherwise, next year is going to be very, VERY difficult.”

Congressman and Ranking Member Adam Smith, echoed Mr. McKeon on many of the major key points throughout his opening statements,

“…Continues to fund our troops who are still at war in Afghanistan. What I really like about this bill is that it recognizes that our challenges, right now, are primarily from terrorism and asymmetric warfare, therefore, prioritizes the Special Operations Command and also Cyber Security Threat. ” 

Although the two members echoed one another on many of the details surrounding the defense budgetary burden laid out before them, it seemed as though they were both willing to pull from one, account to save the other. Smith noted that the administration put forward a series of changes, which includes the BRAC Amendment, which would continue to close bases within the United States when the legislation hits the chamber floor. They have also made reduction in certain compensation, as well as lay up 11 ships and discontinue the A-10 Warthog as well as rearrange the National Guard and Reserve issues.

“…for the most part, they got rid of those changes and found the money, creatively, for 2015. The problem is, it creates a bow wave. 2016/2017, we’re not going to be able to do that.

By “creatively” one only has to listen a few more seconds on the hearing to understand exactly what is about to happen. As Smith put it,

“The problem with that is, it creates a bow wave”

Yet again, we are patching a hole in the side of the ship, with cotton balls. If it is unsustainable and you can identify this, well before the implementation, why are we even considering the option? Smith also suggested if we don’t like the cuts made by the administration, we’re going to have to put up alternatives and its worth noting that the administration asked for an additional $28 Billion that they didn’t get. Offering up two amendments, BRAC and an amendment to lay up 11 cruisers and 3 amphibious ships, Smith suggested,

 “If we want eleven carriers, we’ve gotta save money somewhere.” 

All of this on the heels of the President making an impromptu visit to Afghanistan on Sunday evening. He stopped by Bagram Air Field with a “mission” to thank the members of the Armed Services deployed in support of the operations of the ongoing war effort in Afghanistan. As the debate heats up over the budget and over the implementation of one of the most despicable legislation’s in modern history, just short  of The Enabling Act, passed by Hitler in 1933 followed by the Reichstag Fire Decree, so goes the N.D.A.A.  These bills were passed in Germany with little to no resistance and virtually no public outcry. History has a weird way of repeating itself. Zen will stay on top of this story as it develops and you will be the first to receive notification of any and all changes that take place. Until then, keep your head up and your heart open. We haven’t lost this battle just yet.




ZENINTHECAR-T.V.-CREWRecently Eric Bell, host of For Whom the Bell Tolls, had the gang from ZEN IN THE CAR T.V. visit his show for a two hour candid discussion on everything from the Liberty Movement to spirituality. We thought it was worth sharing with all of you who might have missed it the first time around. So we hope that you are enlightened and we hope that you enjoy listening to the gang come to the airwaves with the message they are determined to spread.

**This video is a playlist of all five parts plays in order, however for your convenience all five parts are individually listed.***






Once again we welcome you back to year three of ZENINTHECAR.COM, and year two of ZEN IN THE CAR T.V.. We appreciate all of your urges for us to come back but as we said, everything happens exactly when it’s supposed to and though we have taken a considerable amount of time to evolve, it seems that now it is appropriate for us to return and it couldn’t have been one second sooner. So with little fanfare and little prose to reintroduce you to who we are, we present the first episode of this new and exciting season. Thank you for liking, sharing helping us grow and of course if you agree with what we here at ZENINTHECAR.COM are doing don’t hesitate to donate so the cause can spread further and further. Enjoy, ZEN IN THE CAR T.V..



Daniel Louis Crumpton

Daniel Louis Crumpton

Ideology is a strong word for those who choose to latch onto it. When one chooses to claim an ideology it is a connection stronger than any other bond on the face of the Earth. Ideology overrides marriage, it overrides the relationship between parent and child, it most certainly overrides the relationship between the individual and the state and regardless of if one chooses to acknowledge it or not; even like it or not-ideology overrides the relationship between the worshiper and the god they worship. Most people gasp at that last revelation, but it is indeed a revelation that at the end of the day always pans out to be true. One may have a god that demands the stoning of children however if the ideology they have tied their flag to demands to first do no harm; then the command of the god is thrown out the window and a more fitting god to one’s own ideology will certainly emerge with a more personable name.

Ideology is the most tangible manifestation of one’s own mind, heart and soul. It is the clearest expression of who one is as a person. Ideology defines the spirit, it charts the course before the sails have caught wind and it is always a beacon for the place one calls home. It’s a concept in which one defines one’s own self, and if you are fortunate its how a group of people define themselves. Ideology is like a commitment with a woman that demands you forsake all others and all other things to be with and more likely than not being committed to it will require such a sacrifice. The reason for this is because ideology is not a cheap thrill one picks up one day only to be put down the next. She will not tolerate such abuse nor will she entertain suitors which lack the moral backbone to stick with her. Ideology demands fidelity in both word and deed. Ideology is faithful, and will always welcome you home, but before you call it yours you must pass the test of being worthy to call it your own.


photo from thereforegodexists.com

Many a man woman and child have placed their hands to one ideology or the other with fickle intent only to be washed away through the phase of testing. Their convictions challenged or their material possessions threatened, they subtly attempt to step away as if it was never their ideology to begin with; ashamed to admit their own weaknesses or failures in being unable to see it through to the end. This is what separates the suitors from the keepers. Ideology only accepts those willing to die for the waving flag above its head. Sadly, it’s true that most lack the fortitude to temper the storm and cling to the pole of what they say they believe. This is what defines us as a species.

Of course the most tragic of these stories is when we meet others who claim to honor the same ideology; however when the time of testing comes, they fall by the wayside. At this point we must contemplate if they must be considered fair weather friends…or enemies. We must choose if the course in which we will set our own sails will pass around the wreckage of the fleet to their souls, or if we have the nature within us to simply purge through the debris of their failure and wail “Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!” It’s a pickle, I will admit it. One has to be willing to see the faces of the dead in the waters below to lay claim to an ideology. As tempted as we might be to toss out life lines or safety harnesses, the fact of the matter is; when one has abandoned a greater ideology for a lesser one then have they not simply made themselves cannon fodder for the greater good?

The question often arises in my circles of do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. Being a philosopher I often like to think the answer depends on who is willing to sacrifice of themselves freely. Rather than the decision being put in the hands of a mob, the most noble of solutions is that an individual will always provide the answer and the way. This means that if the individual has to play the part of the destroyer of worlds to all those around them for the honor and dignity of bringing an ideology to fruition; then so be it. This often means that sister will be pitted against brother, mother against father, husband against wife. However is it not written in the wisest of scripture that the bringer of Light came not to bring peace, but a sword?
Ideology is a sacred thing. One not meant to be handled with whoring hands. Choose yours wisely and when you do be willing to lay life and limb to defend it and make it your own.

My Love Affair with Lady Liberty: Part Three


D.L.C and Huey Duck

Last: My Affair with Lady Liberty: Part Two


I never wanted to grow up to begin with. On the whole I think being an adult is really a rather silly thing to do and I urge all young people anytime I can to simply avoid doing it altogether. Some people call this “Peter Pan” syndrome and I’m fine with that. It’s sure better than most syndromes I can think of having. Whenever I’m told to just grow up I ask myself; “Why? So I can be just as boring and controlled by a system of working for the sake of paying taxes until I’m too old to actually enjoy the labor of my own hands? No thanks, you can keep that silly idea and cash it in with your 401K, which should be about a week before they shovel dirt on your face.” Money is a master with a long whip and there are too many people, especially in the Liberty Movement, that bare their backs and continue to ask for the crack of the Massa.

As most of you know, I am not a parent, and though some like to shove that in my nose and insinuate that because I have no children I don’t understand what it’s like to have kids I happily flick that right back at them with my extended middle finger. I thank God every day that I as of yet have not Fathered a child of my own. As many of you have said in the past few years, this America is not the America we grew up in. Nor is it the America I want any child of mine growing up in. So yes, I am thankful that so far my daughter and my son have not arrived because I would be ashamed to bring them into a country and a world that I have not done my own part to correct. I would be ashamed to bring them into a system I didn’t understand and in so doing usher in more slaves to a system of bondage. It’s that system I’d like to discuss in this final part to “My Affair With Lady Liberty” and I truly hope that each and every one of you reading this will do your own research and see that what I am going to say is indeed so.


photo from observers.france24.com

We in the Liberty Movement, the youth of America that were taught to live in a democracy have uncovered the Truth ourselves that this land was consecrated to be a Republic. A country ruled by Law rather than mob rule. Because of great men like Ron Paul and his son Rand more and more are discovering this Truth hidden from the masses by the public education system, the corporate media propaganda machine and of course let us not forget organized religion. We have seen the millions of dots that have corroded the Ten Amendments to the Constitution, a document crafted to make each of us Kings and Queens, yet for many it is still difficult to connect these dots so that the entire spider web of deceit can be seen and ripped from before our eyes. This part is absolutely necessary if we are to restore the Republic. It is absolutely essential that we either spray liquid or blow our smoke in front of our eyes so the tapestry of control can be seen in order for us to tear it from before us and our offspring. This web was spun in front of the generations before us and we all must vow to bring it down so that the next generation will not get caught in it and eaten by the black widow resting silently in the center.


Life imitating Art
photo from disinfo.com

The system was carefully laid brick by brick from the founding of America and the crafting of the Constitution beginning in 1776. Many of our ancestors came to this land to escape the tyranny of the British crown and its puppet master, the pope. Now before I continue let me make it absolutely clear that neither myself nor any other contributor to ZENINTHECAR.Com have a prejudice against the Catholic people in any way shape or form. As a matter of fact I myself find many of the practices of the Catholic people to be quite useful and indeed spiritually liberating in many ways. The Catholic people are a deeply spiritual people with a yearning inside of them to touch the Divine as all other spiritual peoples. However this does not mean that the Catholic system of religion cannot be, or has not been corrupted by men seeking power and wealth through fear based trauma over what they call the “laity”. Since Constantine the so called great, a system was set up from the dying Roman Republic in order to shift the totalitarian rule of the Caesars into a religious totalitarian government. From 313 A.D. until today this system has survived, appointing Viceroys, dukes, Kings and Queens alike. This system has bloodied Europe with three crusades, centuries of inquisitions and witch burnings as well as silently assassinating any and all who call for dissent. And for what? So that a just a handful of men could hold on to power and gold while claiming to be the voice of God on Earth in public while in private they fund men like Stalin and Hitler. These things are not a matter of opinion; they are simply a matter of historical fact. You may not like to hear them, but your discomfort is merely a discomfort of ignorance.


photo from nasti-progrock-music.blogspot.com

And what was this system set up for? The same reason all systems are set up, to create servants. Systems of control need human resources and all of us in the Liberty Movement know full well when we look at the taxes taken out from our paychecks that we have indeed become like oil; resources of humanity. Sucked up from the soil and burned into the air. For quite some time we have all tried to find ways to dismantle this system and many of the solutions are indeed sound, however in my own opinion they are too slow and tend to focus on the details rather than address the tumor of our Country’s cancer. You see this system of control that was crafted by Julius Caesar and passed on down the line through his progeny of popes is one of contract. We are all free to contract with who we wish and in doing so we bind ourselves to obligations and indebtedness. On the surface this is all well and fine when done openly and honestly yet anyone who has ever contracted with a major corporation or credit card company knows full well that the devil is in the details and more often than not all those tiny and confusing words are carefully placed to conceal the fact that the contract doesn’t work in your favor.

When the Caesar’s conceptualized the idea of a corporation (corpse) they envisioned creating fictions or nonliving entities to which they could perpetually receive labor and taxes for merely being written into existence. For all of you aware of the Federal Reserve system and its scheme of printing worthless dollars into existence and putting on us interest that can never be repaid, this concept is easy to grasp. This same format has been layered into our Republic on many different levels. We unknowingly enter into these systems by contracting with the powers that be each and every time we consent to contract. What this means is that whenever you as a Sovereign King or Queen sign any type of license, or join any organization that files for 501-C3 tax exempt status you have allowed yourself to be absorbed into the spider web of control. You have literally signed away your Freedom and natural born Rights for privileges which can be taken away on a whim from Big Brother and papa pope. This system was handed to us by our parents and grandparents when they allowed us to be born in hospital wards, stamped with a birth certificate and a social security number and we ourselves continue to stay in it when we apply for things such as driver’s license and of course a marriage license. We do not know because no one informs us that when we do such things we are actually becoming products of the state. This is especially sad when we get a marriage license for it means that we are giving claim of any product of marriage (children) over to the state, which is controlled by the corporation known as the federal government which is in turn controlled and owned by the British crown which is ultimately controlled by the Vatican.


We are literally selling our children into the bondage we were born into through our ignorance. And why? Because our parents told us these are the things we must do to function in society. Of course the reason they did it is because their parents told them the same thing and they shirked the responsibility of asking why. By not asking the simplest and most demanding questions our Republic has ended up in the shape it is now and we who wave the flag of Liberty in our day and age must stop and ask the question; when does this madness stop?

book on shelfMy life’s dream was to become a published author. I never really cared about money or caviar; I just wanted to see my name on the cover of a book. I wanted to know that I could pull words from the ethos and put them on the page so that maybe, just maybe those words would move readers to find within themselves the same potential to create from nothing. All of us on a path of spirituality are creators; for we mimic the Ultimate Creator Itself and in so doing we become ONE with the Divine. After “Then Came the Flood” was published and I had a copy in my hands I knew that it was time for my second dream to come to fruition and that was to create life in the form of children. Of course me being the son of my parents and having learned from their mistakes I would be damned if those children would be born under the boot of tyranny. Around this time we here at ZENINTHECAR.Com began to become very vocal about the new Real ID, a national ID veiled as a driver’s license in the state of Georgia. We issued an open letter to Governor Nathan Deal regarding his Constitutional obligations to resist this encroachment into our state from the Department of Homeland Security as well as issued a petition to have it repealed. I myself appeared on the “Valerie Sargent Martin Show” proclaiming the dangers of this new license and made a vow publically that I would simply not be complying. And I stick to my vows. Along with that vow I resolved that shackle by shackle I would remove myself from all contracts with the state and that included a license of marriage as well as any other license which would secure my previously secured Rights under the Constitution. Once this had been set in my mind we here at ZENINTHECAR.Com noticed that the Department of Homeland Security was becoming avid fans of our material. Hiya Janet!


photo from www.clevelandseniors.com

It is one thing to believe your government is watching you; it is an altogether different thing to know it beyond a shadow of a doubt. This triggered in me, as it of course would in anyone, the knee jerk reaction of fear. What writer wouldn’t shiver a time or two, especially after Andrew Brietbart mysteriously dropped dead of an apparent heart attack shortly after announcing he had some dirt on the B rated actor in the White House, Barry Obama? So after much prayer and meditation on what I should do, should I shy away from the call of the Founders or should I risk life and limb for the dream of the next generation, I found before me what we are all seeking. I found Lady Liberty standing before me with her brilliant Light held high above her head.

Now over the years Lady Liberty has been called many things. She has been called a whore, an icon of the devil, a trophy to be owned and paraded around. She has been abused by religious fanatics, spit upon by jealous impersonators, and forced upon by violent and power hungry men. She has been neglected, she has been abused; her honor has been raped. Yet she has stood the test of time. Her arm ever weary from holding up her torch she stands waiting for any and all who would open their eyes and simply see her Light. Like Ernest Hemingway, a writer stalked and threatened by his government, I sought her face for salvation and strength to finish the course before me. As the Bible says; ask and ye shall receive.


Meeting for the first time in what seems like an eternity, the two of us both shared the expression of “Hey, I know you.” And from that moment it was evident that the course of True Freedom and Liberty is most certainly not for the faint of heart or those who merely talk about Revolution. Being in her presence is much akin to nervous drowning and intoxicating drinking all at once. Especially for a man with a ring on his finger and too many ties to a system he hates. Yet looking in the eyes of Lady Liberty reveals that she is a woman unafraid. She is a Lady that doesn’t fear the dim seeing eye of Big Brother and papa pope nor does she tremble at the notion of rolling up her sleeves and flipping off all of her accusers and naysayers that doubt the integrity of her heart. She is not afraid to face off with the police, with the government, with big pharma, with lawyers or secret societies and she is especially unafraid of religious zealots. While meditating in my car one day her presence permeated around me and that feeling of awe and humility sank into all of my pores.


photo from lazyreviewzzz.com

I’ve never done this before you know. I’ve never even been alone with another woman since I got married.” I said.

I know. “ She replied.

The both of us nearly jumping out of our skin at the intensity of Freedom and Liberty being this close in proximity.

Okay, come on! Are you like this with all the guys you meet?” I ask.

She wrinkles her nose and fiddles with my radio spinning through the tracks on the C.D. player.

No. “She says with a giddy school girl expression on her face.

You promise?” I ask.

Her eyes open wide and she puts her hand up to her mouth. “I swear.”

I shake my head in disbelief that Lady Liberty indeed is a Spirit that can fill your lungs with air and burn within your mind’s eye. Not only that but fill your ears with music and cause your heart to race with the feeling you only knew when you were a child, when Freedom was written within the beat of a child.

You know the government watches me right?” I ask.

Let them watch.” She says as she waves her hand nonchalantly.

Before I can say another word she tugs at her dress almost like she has attention deficit disorder. “Do you like my dress?

I love your dress.” I sigh with exasperation.
Her hands move up to her head and glaze over her hair.

Do you like my hair?

I love your hair too.” I confess.

What if I had horns?” She smirks.
Well that’s not something you hear every day, but at least it’s honest so I reply honestly.

I don’t think it would scare me away either.” I answer.

With the flash of a devilish smile I already know I’m in trouble.

The two of us are a car crash waiting to happen, you know that don’t you?” I ask.

Ya’ think so?” She asks with wrinkled nose.

Yeah, but the good thing about car crashes is the air bags will go off when we hit.” I say.
Lady Liberty smiles and then puts on her serious face as the two of us step out to get some sunlight. She wraps a shawl around her head and gives me another wink.

We have a lot of work to do.” She says, as if she’s giving me a Holy decree.

dragoncon2011part2 038And that was that. I had my marching orders to begin my quest on overcoming the fear it takes to defeat the system by both withdrawing from the system as well as exposing it. I accepted my task knowing full well the path would not be easy and luxuries would be far and few between. Since coming face to face with Lady Liberty I have had my entire world turned upside down. There isn’t enough space for me to list here all the things that I have either had to sacrifice or that have been taken from me (losing my dog was probably the worst) but I can’t say I didn’t see any of it coming. And I can’t say that when I vowed to wave the flag of Freedom and Liberty for all people my name wouldn’t be dragged through the mud, or I wouldn’t be arrested, called insane, bled financially, locked up in mental institutions, have false charges thrown on me, be followed by maniacal freemasons and private investigators that work for law firms with about a billion cameras flashing in my face to catch me in an affair. I can’t say I didn’t expect being called an adulterer, a drunkard, a Satan worshiper, a thief or an arrogant and spoiled little brat or a myriad of other reflicted adjectives from people who are clueless about what confidence and determination are all about; never mind what being a true Patriot is all about.

daniels pics 132


Self-sacrifice is what spirituality and Enlightenment is all about. Self-sacrifice is what Revolution is all about, both in our Republic and in each and every one of our own hearts. One must be willing to clearly see a vision of what they want and be willing to have all others forsake them as they forsake all others in order for that vision to come into reality. It is not a path for those who merely want Liberty on social media that do little more than post articles from people like me. It is not one for those content to let the next generation fall into the same traps we fell into by giving more children to the state. No, this path involves everything you have in you and I hope that because of sacrifices made by men like Ron Paul, all Veterans of all foreign wars and maybe somewhere on the tail end little writers like myself that you yourself will see the example and that example will make your path a little easier to walk. Freedom and Liberty is living without fear. It is living without the desire to control others, own others, or dictate to others the way things are going to be. Many of you reading this may or may not know but I am doing as I vowed and getting a legal divorce which is very taboo amongst many circles yet very consistent with what I have said I would do in the same fashion as not getting a license to drive or any other license. Anyone who has gotten a divorce knows this is a very painful and chaotic process because the very word divorce changes people in the blink of an eye. Assumptions and judgments are bound to be made and that comes part and parcel and though the legal verbiage may say otherwise I suppose I would just chalk this divorce up to an affair. Sure, I Daniel Louis Crumpton had an affair. I confess publicly. I had an affair with Lady Liberty, and I haven’t regretted one second since I did.

Namaste. Revolution for ONE is Revolution for ALL




What exactly are we suppose to remember on Memorial Day anyway? Memorial Day is a symbol of something in the form of an annual markage of time, but a symbol of what? I think I have an idea and here’s what we should do, because it’ll be fun; we should go through my line of thought and see if it makes sense and if not poke holes all through it if something seems unstable. Thumbs up? Thumbs up!

Myron Jackson Crumpton. That’s my dad. Today I’m going to be remembering him and will now proceed to craftily tell you what I will be remembering about him in order to lay out my thoughts on the matter and sneakily force you to think of the person you are remembering, so that in doing so my ideas on the topic will subconsciously be bound to your thoughts by mere emotional association and by the end of this you will be forced to agree with me.

Myron J Crumpton

Myron was fated enough to be born in a country which was also fated to be the freest the world has ever known. I think that fate when thinking Myron was also one of the freest men I have ever known. Yes he was born with the supernova spirit of freedom and liberty burning within his bones and believed that on the sea of life a vessel should be able to traverse the waters in a form and fashion in the choosing of its captain. After all this life is nothing to sink over rather ride with the waving of the waters beneath simply …floating atop. That was his philosophy on pretty much everything and he was absolutely sure to instill in the longboats of his posterity the same attitude of not giving a flying flip de do day about what others thought or felt of them. Freedom is being able to be unrestricted in deed or thought by the deeds or thoughts of those who would presume to be over you.

With this pulse pumping from his heart he was able to enjoy a rich and diverse upbringing in a nation which allowed him to live the philosophy he knew to be true. Freedom for all to live life as they see fit unrippled by the waves of those around them. So when his country called him at a young age, informing him that outside forces were attempting to put an end to his, and everyone else’s ability to live like that, he said ‘Hell no’ and signed the dotted line soon to be set adrift troubled waters in yet another vessel, which also had really big guns and a supernova engine which allowed it to separate the sea. He was pissed and when they handed him a gun he wrapped his hands around it and clenched it with his soul. The tyrannical bastards have gotsta go.

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t easy and there certainly was great loss along the way. Some scars time doesn’t heal it just makes you forget that spot use to be whole. A little battered and beaten up when the conflict was through and for a while he was set adrift until the day came when his government would call on him again to repeat the noble act of preserving freedom in yet more lands he had never been to with inhabitants he had never met yet were apparently, because his government said so, his enemies. Vietnam took much more from him and learning to live freedom rather than fighting for it took some time to recall.

In all the talks he and I would have over coffee whether it be politics, religion, philosophy and of course the occasional filthy joke exchanged between father and son there was one topic we never delved into. One topic where when mentioned the only detail I was ever graced to hear was the simple phrase “War is hell, son. War is hell.”

Though it was hell, he did always take pride in the fact that it was not all in vain. He had protected freedom, he had ensured that his little skippers would be able to live an entire life of freedom because he sacrificed his own. For this it was worth it and though his body began to get more and more weathered with the passage of time, that spirit was still a supernova…until.

In his seventies he could see that the conflicts in the middle east are nothing more than a chess game where human lives are the fleshy pawns torn up in the killing fields so a few could amass power and wealth. He could also see that these pawns were not doing this because they were stupid, or crazy or unpatriotic rather they were being deceived. They were being told that it was freedom they were fighting for and the noble spirit within them fired up and all they knew was that they were pissed. This made Myron upset. This made Myron ask some serious questions about perhaps the things he had done and unlike most chose to examine evidence presented before him that perhaps his efforts overseas had been in vain.

I remember watching a documentary called “Terror storm” by Alex Jones where the sinking of an American battleship was ordered by the president of the United States of America in order to begin a conflict with Egypt for the security of Israel. As Myron heard the words of his president in the form of “I want that god damn ship to go down” I saw out of the corner of my eyes my father wince in physical pain as his chin fell to his chest in a gasp. He had been deceived and his good intentions had been taken advantage of and aimed at a goal most wicked indeed. I can’t tell you how many times after that event I heard him say “If I had known then what I know now, I never would’ve went.”. This was not because he did not love his country, it was because he so very much loved his country. This realization, and the restrictions of his body burdened his soul greatly in thinking that he had done damage to the nation he loved from his ignorance and with no youth left to fight in effort to make amends. For a time all he could do is watch as the government that manipulated him through false fear manipulated my generation through even worse false fear. Things were looking dark…until.


Having the advantage of the internet I was able to show him that in the ’08 presidential race we actually did have a real choice and there was this old Neo who definitely had the sight in regards to what is really going on in our country and our world. This lifted Myron’s spirit and he could feel those engines firing up, but still astonished at the prospect that there was no way to now fight alongside the cause of freedom. Then it occurred to him that Ron Paul was just as old as he, and he was actually doing something to turn things around despite all the disadvantages most would use as excuses.

He was shocked that the masses were dismissing Ron Paul as some sort of nut, or being a blame America first liberal simply because he believed in a just war theory. Yet let’s not forget that Myron had chosen before the worlds began that public opinion in opposition of oneself is usually a good indicator that your course is set in the right direction. Dad would say that he could never have been a sailor when the vessels traversed the seas on nothing but the whims of the wind, rather a captain should be able to plot a course and make serious bubbles in its wake on the way to the X on the map. Because of Ron Paul and the spirit of the Liberty movement he was awakened to the fact that Freedom truly is under threat and outside forces wish to stop his and our ability to live free and to this he again said ‘Hell No’ and singed the dotted line of the oxymoronic pledge to the republican party. The tyrannical bastards gotsta go.

Screw Gubment

As I handed him the cane he had always been reluctant to take, he clutched it with his soul and like a slightly taller Yoda, he hobbled alongside the rest of the Paul Bots to fight in the trenches of precinct, district and state functions in order to become a delegate and actually vote for a man whose compass of the heart allowed him to spend over thirty years in the gears of our government and never compromise once.

Myron’s spirit had been restored by not merely talking, but taking action to fight for the country which once was and will be again the brightest beacon of Freedom the world has ever known. Though Myron was ordered to return to that great celestial dry-dock in the sky before the battle we are in now, known as the 2012 presidential race, began; he was sure to pop off some torpedoes before leaving.

Myron could see that our at the present tense our country and its Constitution is in great distress. When laws like the NDAA, Codex Alimentarius and the Patriot Act are allowed to exist by the American people then something is terribly wrong and that thing is mass ignorance. Myron understood that in times of mass ignorance what is needed is a symbol, as Memorial Day is a type of symbol. As a Navy man he knew that the best symbol to let those around you know that you are in distress is the jarring image of an inverted American Flag. It automatically catches the eye because it screams ‘something is wrong!’. This is the point, for it is a symbol which beacons the informed to come to the aid of the flag bearer.

It is easy to see things are wrong, and it is even easier to talk about how they ought to be fixed however those whose engine is going supernova with the blinding spirit of Freedom and Liberty are those who take action. This Memorial Day resolve to remember that it is not ant-itroop to reject the unjust wars of an unjust government nor is it unpatriotic to use everything at your disposal to rally the troops around you to the call of the cause. Get informed, get involved, and get vocal yet vocal in motion.

I personally fly the inverted flag in the tradition of the great sailor before me and I love this country. If you feel the same I would suggest that you too warn those around you to the great danger we are in and support the troops by bringing them home. Also, it wouldn’t hurt if you posted an inverted flag on your social media page with the status of “I LOVE MY COUNTRY” so the symbol can be infused with the spirit of Liberty.

Happy Memorial Day. May your engines be nuclear and we all be the sons and daughters of Liberty.