Tag Archives: Daniel Louis Simon

The Family is the Template and Tool of the State: the Importance of Keeping Children as Chattel Slaves—or, why Megan Stammers was a Threat to the U.K. Nanny State’s Socialist Public Order

Back in “the bad old days” before the Nanny State, children ran away all the time.  There are no statistics on such things, for the most part, because keeping careful statistics is also a feature of the Nanny State.  A hundred years ago, it is reasonably certain that the major scandal involving Megan Stammers and Jeremy Forrest is that they didn’t get married.  As I have commented before, given how anxious they were to be together, I’m quite sure that if marriage had been an available option, and especially an available “cure-all” option, Jeremy and Megan would now be man and wife—and given the status of modern marriage, that would surely be punishment enough for the both of them.  

But “morality” is not even remotely at issue in the Forrest-Stammers arrest and trial and (now) conviction.  And on the whole, that’s a good thing for the both of them—about the only good thing for them in the whole bloody picture in fact.   They are as immoral as Tristan und Isolde, Tannhauser and any number of the denizens of the Venusberg, the incestuous brother-sister couple Siegmund and Sieglinda, and the maidens of the Perilous Castle in the story of Parzifal.   But in fact, the Wagnerian couple of most relevance to the story of Jeremy and Megan is the Flying Dutchman and Senta.  

To relax my mind from the horrible stress of wanting to go over to Lewes in East Sussex and set off rocket launchers in the direction of the Court and prosecutor’s office (it’s a long shot from the South Jersey Shore, and I lack the necessary technology….unfortunately), I have been celebrating the eve of the Summer Solstice watching fireworks out my window and listening to the Flying Dutchman (a really peculiarly staged and set up 2010 Production of the Netherlands Opera, Netherlands Philharmonic, and the Amsterdam State Theatre; how peculiar? try to imagine Act II, if you can, the spinning scene, with a single spinning wheel in the middle of a rather luxurious modern lady’s spa, complete with swimming pool and totally out of place black men randomly stalking around [trying to pick up blonde Norwegian girls I guess?] with most of the girls wearing white terrycloth bathrobes and some walking around topless or in their underwear—yes, ahem, THAT peculiar).

Anyhow, the  plot of Der Fliegende Holländer juxtaposes an “Ordinary Mortal” Sea Captain, Daland, against the mysterious and effectively supernatural, vampiric, Captain Hendrick Vanderdecken (whose ship is called “The Flying Dutchman).  

The Dutchman is infinite in every way, unhappily immortal by a curse he invited upon himself, from which curse he can only be released by the eternal devotion of a woman who will be treue zum Tod.  It is one of the hard lessons I, and so many other men, have had to learn that women willing to true to until death are as rare and, at least in my generation, entirely as mythical as selkies, mermaids, and sea captains who sail the sea forever, but apparently R. Wagner knew this when he was 30, because it was at that age that he wrote and produced this opera, for the first time in Dresden, and Daland’s daughter, Senta, is in fact almost as eerily abnormal as Vanderdecken himself.

The way that this story bears on the story of Megan and Jeremy is just this—the Dutchman offers Daland literally a boatload of treasure if he will introduce him to his daughter.  This refers back again to “the bad old days” when children who DID not run away from home, especially girls, were often treated as chattels for exchange or barter.  Now, as it happens, Senta had already fallen in love with the myth of the Dutchman before the met the reality, but that is just the trope fantasy of the age of arranged marriages.  (Cf. Fiddler on the Roof: “Matchmaker, Matchmaker…..playing with matches a girl can get burned”).  

In the story of Megan Stammers, and the case of Jeremy Forrest, I think we see the darkest side of the Brave New World of Socialism in action: children must be controlled, and their residence and mating habits must be controlled, if the Socialist State is to have effective control over the future (and by this we mean the replacement and extermination) of the Anglo-Saxon and Celtic populations of England (and the Anglo-European population of America, as a whole).  

All slave societies seek to control mating habits.  The biological definition of a “domesticated animal or plant” is one whose reproduction is controlled by human agency.  The biological definition of a slave is, likewise, a human being whose reproduction is controlled by other human beings.

On this auspicious Summer Solstice 2013, I had occasion to speak several times to Melinda Pillsbury-Foster, a really dear and very respected friend now resident in Ashtabula, Ohio.  By some coincidence Thursday, June 20, in my Forward Day-by-Day Pamphlet not only celebrates the reckless love of God or quest for God’s love implicit in the Widows’ Mite, but also urges us to pray for the Diocese of Ohio, where Melinda is a devoted Church of Englander aka “Anglican Province V: Episcopal Church).  Melinda is a loving grandmother as well as conservative-libertarian activist who has done more than her share to save the White Race, and she was sadly recounting the story of one of her highly intelligent daughters (Dawn) who had made the decision not to have children.  Melinda is one person I know who is critically aware of the government’s ambitions to replace the current population of Western Europe and North America with a race of slaves.  

But slave-conditioning is unnatural, and that’s why the Stammers-Forrest case was so incredibly important, in my opinion, to the modern British government.  An example had to be made of this mad, reckless couple, to deter other couples who might be both more moral in the traditional Christian and Victorian senses and more reproductively oriented.

This is not just my opinion as a mad radical.  The “Child Custody” and “Family Protective Services” rackets in the United States are just that, and are being widely recognized as such, see, for example, Children_as_Chattel by Kurt Mundorf, (http://www.parentsinaction.net/english/Children_as_Chattel.pdf).

The life of my son and at least one of my son’s neighbors in Cedar Park, Texas, are examples of the nightmare that convinces me that Megan Stammers’ case is part of a very sinister plot against children’s freedom to choose.  

It is hard for me to accept and believe that it was eleven years ago, more than 20.7% of my life, since my wife Elena and I broke up at the end of July 2002, for the last and final time, leading to my son apparently developing some very severe developmental and emotional problems.  I have so often written about the villains in this psycho-drama, chief among them Attorneys J. Randall Grimes, Laurie J. Nowlin, and Judge Michael P. Jergins of the 395th District Court in Georgetown, Texas, in and for Williamson County.  It has been ten years since Grimes, Jergins, and Nowlin took control of my son’s life, and effectively destroyed it, and his psyche, and his will to freedom.  I have already sworn a vow never to forgive or forget them, but always to remind the world of where I first learned of the conspiracy to enslave all our children and make them prawns, I mean pawns, in the Brave New World game.

The issues were really quite simple: did I, as a father, have the right to discuss my son’s welfare with my son?  I have recently heard from a mother in Williamson County, reporting that Judge Jergins only recently compared her communications with her children as child abuse equal to her husband’s drinking.  Daniel Louis Simon, John Henry Franks, Michael Houghton, Rhonda Moe Malmquist, and so many more were the victims of this trio of criminals in Family Court and their relentless assault on freedom of speech and the rights of parents to talk to their children about what they wish and want.  Rhonda Moe was actually jailed for two months for her conversations with her son (Jergins’ original sentence against her was four months).  

Jergins’ told me that my open and frank discussions with my son amounted to “felony child abuse.”  Judge Jergins’ simply included illegal injunctions against free speech against all of the parents and children over whom he presided.  When John Henry Franks was enjoyed against discussing anything with his daughter, his daughter was barely a year old (and thus highly unlikely to be discussing anything at all).  Despite the fact that Judge Jergins’ injunctions against all manner of freedom of speech were utterly illegal and contrary to Federal and State Precedent regarding the issuance of “prior restraint” censorship against free speech, both the State and Federal Courts in Texas refused to review the matter meaningfully, and sanctioned me (and Dan Simon) for trying, rather severely, too. Judge Walter S. Smith of Waco particularly faulted me for spearheading a crusade to have the Texas Family Code declared unconstitutional as applied, to restrict fundamental, enumerated, “Footnote 4” rights.

My son Charlie tragically bears the scars of all this ordeal to the present day.  A friend of his from just down the street, whom I will call “Chris B” suffered even worse because he was a repeat runaway from home—and knowing me and who I was and what I stood for, he always ran to me.   I did what I could to protect him and give him the freedom he wanted.  But the State of Texas, those fine Williamson County Judges, found reason to go and get him from my home in Lago Vista.  And he too was scarred for life.  Arresting a runaway and treating him as a criminal is about as counter productive as any kind of law enforcement could possibly be.

I see no reason to think that parents know better how to make their teenage children happy than the teenage children do themselves.  That is why I believe in a fundamental right of teenagers to engage in exactly the same “self-emancipation” as runaway slaves.  Keep in mind that in the early 19th century, runaway slaves were treated alternately as insane or criminal, or as insane criminals.  

That is how our children who choose freedom are treated today.  The result of this treatment is that our children are being turned into one of three things: good slaves, criminals, or insane people.  I am more than slightly mortified that my own son, now an adult, has, as a result of Laurie J. Nowlin’s conditioning, at least in part, chosen a life which appears to linger at the border between the good slave and the insane person.  He has dropped out of college and apparently attempted to continue his own education with the remnants of my library, I guess, at our old home in Cedar Park under his mother’s watchful eyes and firm thumb.

And that is why I urge all freedom loving Anglo-Saxons and Anglo-Europeans to demand the immediate release of Jeremy Forrest and immediate and final emancipation for Megan Stammers, that they may live their lives, happy, sad, or indifferent, be a couple or not according to their own compatibility, not state control, and above all, that they serve as a beacon of hope and a template for the freedom of all children in the English speaking world to choose and determine their own future without state interference. 

Parents can and should always and eternally provide for, teach, counsel and advise their children, but the best way to teach them freedom is to let them be free.  The State should have no role in this at all except to give both parents and children a safe world in which to live and attempt to thrive as best they can.  But the State that exists to “protect and serve” on any micro-level, is a Slave-holding state.

Completing the First 1% of the Third Millenium….

I remember New Year’s Eve, December 31, 1999 in New Orleans—what an amazing party it was.  My then 8 year old son rode on my shoulders as we were crushed among the crowds at Jackson Square.  I recall we had a really good view and nearly a perfect vantage point at one early point about an hour before midnight, but got distracted by something and then by midnight we were just in the square crushed by what seemed like millions, looking at the fireworks from the Riverwalk by the Old Jax Brewery.   Elena and I had discussed when deciding it was time to “get pregnant” with Charlie that it would be fun to have a child who would remember the transition between the 20th and the 21st century, and having Charlie in 1992 was almost the last chance to have such a child.  Charlie was born during Hurricane Andrew in 1992 on August 23, 1992, in Palm Beach, Florida.  It was an amazing event.  We were on the first page of the Palm Beach Post the next day—a beautiful picture of Elena holding Charlie with me on the telephone in the background.  We knew we were going to have a boy and it was a foregone conclusion he was going to be Charles Edward Lincoln IV, but we added the name “Andrew” as a second middle name, and among other oddities, the windows of St. Mary’s Hospital in West Palm Beach were all duck-taped with gigantic X-es, which on the horizontal hospital windows looked like transparent Scottish flags bearing St. Andrews’ Crosses.

This holiday vacation, as I mentioned before, is the first time since 2001-2002 that Charlie and I have been able to spend the entire Christmas and New Year’s holiday together.  The fact that we have done so (in California) as well as the fact that we spent the past two summers together in Cambridge, Massachusetts, is a tribute to Elena K. Lincoln’s spirit and willingness to compromise and/or admit de facto defeat or mistake, in the face of her de jure victory in Court, which was the event or series of events which changed my life, and caused me to take the paths I have taken in life since 2002.

Yes, during the past decade, the first 1% of the Third Millenium, I dedicated my life in large part to attacking the Texas Family Code, a tradition which I continue now in Florida, and would like to begin in California.  The Texas Williamson County Family Court establishment was my first great confrontation with a major establishment.  The City of Lago Vista Police abuse cases in my hometown/backyard in 1997-98, which ultimately got me disbarred in the W.D. Texas and , were just a very mild warmup to what became a major anti-establishment civil rights and reform career.  Lago Vista Police Chief Frank Miller and his “prize” officer Bart Turek were my first major civil rights adversaries, but I did not hate them or even particularly dislike them.   They had just instituted and upheld a misguided and injurious police policy in Lago Vista.  The people I came to hate were those who destroyed my family and took my son away from me for during 2002-2007, with only a few respites.  I have dedicated my life to exposing the lies and the evil embodied by Williamson County Judge Michael P. Jergins, Laurie J. Nowlin, J. Randall Grimes, and Michael Davis, as well as their henchment such as the crew of psychologists including Don Jones.

But this moment, these two weeks with my son, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, with the low hills of Catalina Island in the background, is one of the sweetest moments of my life, and I thank God, and Elena for it.  I should note that I invited Elena here to share this moment not once but many times.  There’s enough sleeping space here for three to be in private rooms, as was proved when Peyton and Charlie were both here for Thanksgiving.  But Elena demurred, preferring to go to Cancun, ironically enough, since the Yucatan Peninsula was where Elena and I met in 1985.

Anyhow, to everyone out there, I wish a glorious and prosperous New Year 2010, and I hope that whatever happens to me, Charlie, and Elena, and to everyone else, that the next decade will be as full of emotional, psychological, and spiritual growth as the past decade has been for me.  In every defeat and setback I have found the inspiration to move forward and see deeper truths and meanings, and for such experiences I can only be thankful to all who gave me such opportunities, even if they meant me harm by doing so.  The absolute rock bottom low-point of this decade for me was clearly the death of my grandmother Helen in May 2001.  But not a day goes by that I do not recall fondly and given thanks for the century of life my grandmother enjoyed on earth and at all the time I shared with her and her husband, my grandfather Al, who predeceased her by 21 years in 1980.   The high points of the decade were all spent with my son, and none were higher than our days on Harvard Square and in California.

On this beautiful New Year’s Day looking West, I remember and give thanks to all my good friends and allies during the past ten years (whether we’re in contact to this day or not), in particular to my trustee, Peyton Yates Freiman, a more honest and truer soul does not exist!   I also recall my oldest friends Helen S. Carr (the only person not related to me by blood who has remembered every birthday, Christmas, and intercardinal solstice or equinox to me since the 1970s) and John K. Naland, but also to my newest best friends just made in 2009, Robert J. Ponte, Dennis & Milenne DeLeon, Renada Nadine March, and (irony of irony’s, because I first heard of her as an adversary) Lisa Liberi.  In this transitory life, in this “shake and bake” world we live in, there are many people who were once important to me whom I never see anymore, even if I have not forgotten them, but I hope that my new friends from 2009 will remain with me always.

No inventory of my most steadfast friends could ever be complete without “honorable mention” of Lisa Cook, my sister-in-law in Michigan, who talked to me and understood me and listened to me for years when to do so meant that her own husband’s family (my wife Elena’s relatives) would heap scorn upon her during “the war years” when Elena was calling me “Not Family, but Cancer in the House.”  Lisa was always there for me and I tried always to be there for her, even when nobody else was.  Charlie’s Brazilian Godmother Helir Arlotta from Palm Beach and Tarpon Springs, Florida, falls into this same category….  I don’t have Lisa’s new telephone number (I tried to reach her over the holidays) and Helir has vanished, but we do not and will not forget each other, I’m sure.

Throughout it all, the priests at St. Luke’s-on-the-Lake in Austin provided genuine friendship and support—and I will never forget them even though I might never spend much time in Austin again.  Father James P. Jameson, a fellow Harvardian, Father Philip May, and Father Mike Wyckoff were there for me (during the “war years” with Elena) when I had no one else to whom I could turn.  They are true Christians, true gentlemen, and truer friends than I ever deserved.  Father May was actually willing to meet with me and Charlie in secret in 2005, to provide “aid and comfort” like the Church Martyrs of old….

I remember more often that they will imagine possible the close relationship I had over three years of tumultuous conflict with my steadfast attorneys during the “War Years” (withe Elena of 2003-2006 Francis Wayne Williams Montenegro and Valorie Wells Davenport.  They worked mostly for free, certainly without any profit, and their dedication to my cause was incomparable, encapsulated in Francis Williams’ statement that he would support me even if threatened with a firing squad, and I believe he meant it at the moment, even though he and Valorie, once actually faced with an “offer they couldn’t refuse” by way of extortion or a “constructive bribe” from the Deputy Texas Attorney General James Carlton Todd, Mike Davis, J. Randall Grimes, and the obviously intimidated visiting Judge James F. Clawson (who replaced Jergins after the Federal suits), ultimately gave up the struggle rather than face sanctions.  Francis and Valorie also introduced me to two good people Corinne Irwin and Rod A. Dal Sasso.  I remember and pray for my late father Charles Edward, Jr., who supported my struggles until he could not stand to hear about them anymore.

I remember my friends in the Southern District of Texas early mortgage note battles: Dan Swank, Jacques S. Jaikaran, Mike Palma, Robert Bruce, and David A. Sibley (who despite some ironic vicissitudes, started off a friend and returned to friendly status) from 2006 and  Jon Drew Roland, my first trustee and closest friend and ally from 2004-2007.

Daniel Louis Simon of Liberty Hill joined my crusade against the Texas Family Courts and Code and has become a steadfast and probably last-long friend.  He holds the dubious distinction of having been sanctioned for following my lead against the Texas Family Courts and Code by Judge Walter Smith, who sanctioned Dan and me jointly and severally to the tune of $150,000.00 in March 2008 for the sole purpose of preventing us from continuing our crusade against the Texas Family Code in Federal Court.  His continued friendship and support is a great comfort to me, and I hope I can provide the same for him.

Between January 2005 and September 2007, I went through major ideological transformations in my life, realizing that the “normal” paths to reform were all but closed in the United States.   It was during these years that I also met and first had the privilege of meeting and working with Senator Jerry O’Neil of Columbia Falls and Kalispell, Montana.  Many friends, even on this ten year list, have already come and gone out of my life, but I hope Jerry will remain my friend for all the rest of the days we might both be living on earth.  He is the truest Patriot I know, one of the greatest constitutional scholars of the “Old School”, and one of the most honorable men on earth (in addition to being, as my son says, “the coolest guy I ever met”).

I remember my Florida friends and accomplices Nancy Jo Grant, Bob Hurt, Bill Trudelle, Pearl Lanier Bryan, and Kathy Ann Garcia-Lawson.  Nancy is a hero who should be known to all Patriotic Americans.  Bob, Bill, & Pearl have provided me with so much support and courage.  Pearl is a warrior among warriors.  Kathy Garcia-Lawson is in so many ways my soulmate, with regard to our parallel paths crusading against (respectively, the Texas and Florida) Family Law and Domestic Relations Courts.  Kathy is such a paragon of the devoted, virtuous spouse committed to and still in love with her husband, even after five years since he left her, I can only stand in awe of her.  Kathy breathes new meaning into the words “family” and “until death do we part.”  Kathy’s funny, sassy, and spunky daughter Alexandra, and all of their friends whom I have met in Palm Beach Gardens, especially Claire and Rebecca.  I love Kathy, her character, and her mind, and hope that she and I will also forever be friends.  And yes, in connection with a person to whom Kathy introduced me, I even will toast on this day Orly Taitz whose affection and company “woke me up” in so many ways up through November 4, 2009—May she find peace and harmony and achieve freedom from want and freedom from fear sufficient that she might break free from the golden shackles that hold her prisoner in what may be a comfortable or even palatial prison.

And I would especially like to remember Vance Fecteau and Moshe Leichner, whom the Federal government continues to hold in prison, who were my closest friends during the worst 54 day period of my life, and who made even that extreme low moment a much brighter, more enlightened, and so more bearable moment.  I doubt that it will happen within the next decade, but I pray for a day when America and the rest of the world will be truly free again, when 1-2% of the population will no longer be incarcerated or on supervised release of some sort, when crimes will be established and measured only by their actual injury to others, so that no person will ever again be incarcerated merely to increase the arrest rates and the prison population so that large corporations owned by major politicians can make larger profits.  I can honestly say that all my experiences in the past decade have educated me and made me a better person and patriot.