I flew in a
few nights ago through Mexico City and then San Francisco. In SF
I was forced at gunpoint to explain my reasons for being there.
The 20-something kid with a buzz cut looked me up and down and asked,
"Who are you here to see?" I replied, "No one."
He leered up. "What are you here to do?" I replied blankly
again, "Conference".
He then began
to type in the computer for about 20 minutes. I can't even imagine
what he was writing as I had only said two words... I'm not sure
how that can be turned into a book. But he typed away for what seemed
like an eternity and then gave me my passport, "You can go."
I then made
my way to the customs person, handed him the form they make you
fill out and he immediately motioned me over to an area where grown
men dig through your underwear and personal items in search of plants.
I spent another 15 minutes staring in amazement at how intently
he was inspecting every single item in my luggage. "What's
this!" he'd say from time to time as though he had just cracked
the case. I'd respond, "It's a computer mouse"... or toothpaste...
or socks.
Finally they
allowed me to go and after another flight I arrived in Spokane.
The Silver Summit is a really enjoyable conference with lots of
great people. Soon though I began to remember why I really don't
like to come to the US anymore.
"Can I
smoke inside?" I asked the waitress.
"No,"
she said, you have to go outside.
I began to
make my way outside and before I even made it to the door a few
hotel security people were on top of me.
"You can't
drink outside," they stated firmly.
It wasn't too
much later that the manager came by and told me I was "cut
off."
"Cut off
of what?" I asked naively.
"No more
drinks for you."
I sat confused
for a moment.
"Why not?"
I asked, seriously perplexed.
"One of
the waitresses complained about you," he said. "I'm going
to have to ask you to leave."
I slunk back
in my chair and tried to recall anything I said or did that could
have caused a problem.
"Are you
sure you've got the right guy?" I asked, "I can't think
of anything I did or said that could be a problem. I just remember
I told her she had nice eyes... that's about it."
"That's
the problem," he said. "I don't want to have to ask you
again, sir. Please leave."
I bid farewell
to my friends and business associates, apologized to everyone involved
for my transgression and made my way to the other side of the hotel
to another bar where I found the Silver Summit event founders and
organizers, Shauna Hillman and David Bond. They greeted me warmly
and thanked me for coming to the show. I responded in kind and thanked
them for having me. I mentioned that I got kicked out of the other
bar for complimenting the waitress and Shauna nodded.
"You can't
do that here," she said, "Bill Murphy did something similar
last year and he had to write a letter of apology to the hotel."
I sat wide
eyed, wondering if I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone.
She then winked
and said, "It should be okay... I'll even get you a drink but
make sure you drink it really discretely. I'll pour it into a water
glass."
I was still
somewhat surprised at the course of events of the evening and I
began to sip my drink down below the table as discretely as possible
when a hand grabbed my shoulder.
"That's
just about enough, sir!" said the muscular young man.
"Enough
of what?" I again asked, exasperated.
"You've
been cut off!"
"But that
was a different bar," I replied.
"You're
cut off on the entire premises," he said and walked me off
into the cold evening.
I looked up
at the stars and said to myself, "We're not in Mexico anymore,
Dorothy!"
I then found
myself at a nightclub... had just about had enough to drink and
smoke to relax when, like veja du, all the lights came on and a
man came on the PA system shouting, "Move! Move! Move! Everybody
out!"
Veja du, by
the way, is that feeling that you can't believe this shit is happening
again.
As I stood
outside in the cold, dark evening, turning down numerous invitations
from some of the local kids to fight, I came to a stark realization.
This isn't San Diego... I can't just take a short cab ride to Tijuana
this time. I found a cab and told him how sad I was that everything
was closed. He replied, "There's still a place open!"
I looked up,
"Really?!"
"Yes,"
he said, "But it's in Idaho."
I sat motionless.
I wondered if he was joking or was being serious.
"It's
in another state?" I finally asked.
"Ya, but
it's only about 30 minutes away. It's called the State Line. Everyone
goes there because it's open later than Washington clubs."
I gave him
the nod and we soon arrived there. There were two people inside...
I asked one of the girls, "Can I get a Vodka Red Bull?"
She looked
at me like I was from outer space. "You can't drink! It's after
2am!" she said, as though I had just asked the craziest question
in human history.
Seeing no other
reason to be there I got back in the cab and went back to the hotel.
I wasn't tired enough to sleep so I thought I'd play a little online
poker. I loaded up Party Poker and a big warning message flashed
on stating something to the effect that US citizens are not allowed
to play poker on the Internet.
As I closed
my laptop and slumped into bed I thought to myself, "Wow, how
can people handle all this freedom here in the land of the free?"
HOMEOWNER
FORCED TO LIVE WITH BUM
The more I
live outside of the US and the Western world the more bizarre it
seems to me each time I return. It's actually rather funny to see
how all the laws in the US are really turning on more and more everyday
people. Like this woman, for example.
Because of
a Detroit city law she is not allowed to kick a squatter out of
her house who had moved in recently when she was away. In Detroit,
apparently, if someone breaks into your house and starts living
there, you are not legally allowed to remove them on the spot. You
are supposed to get some paperwork together, go to court, and get
an "eviction notice"!
The reporter
asks the poor homeowner, "People might find it strange that
you are living with a squatter," to which the obviously exasperated
homeowner replies, "That's, I guess, something that happens
in Detroit"!
As with all
government interventions this will have all manner of unintended
consequences. For one, if any seismologists would even take the
risk of working in Italy anymore, and knew that if they don't predict
an erthquake they may be thrown in a cage, what do you think they
might do? Here's a guess... predict an earthquake every single day
of the year!
Not to mention,
not many young Italians are going to be lining up to be a seismologist
after this!
Showing the
complete absurdity of what governments do worldwide, Jim
Berkland succesfully predicted the Loma
Prieta 6.9 earthquake that struck during the 1989 World Series.
He was so good at predicting earthquakes that the US Government
demanded he stop! Berkland claims that government officials told
him not to make any more predictions, fearing mass panic, and he
was suspended for two months from his Santa Clara County geology
position in late October, 1989.
So, in Italy,
it is illegal to not predict earthquakes and in the US it is illegal
if you do.
Governments...
can't live with them, can't overthrow them.
INFORMEDTRADES.COM
I was interview
this week by Simit from InformedTrades.com. You can check out our
discussions on one world government, hyperinflation and a top in
gold here.
Jeff
Berwick [send him mail]
is an anarcho-capitalist freedom fighter and Chief Editor of the
libertarian, Austrian economics grounded newsletter, The
Dollar Vigilante. The Dollar Vigilante focuses on strategies,
investments and expatriation opportunities to survive & prosper
during and after the US dollar collapse.