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     Michael W. Mann is going to my old “institution of higher learning”. He’s going to Parris Island for his Marine Corps training. Of course this is another introduction to hard life. Michael is my nephew.

     In my case I was grouped with other Marines at Fort Jackson in Columbia. It seems strange now as it did initially back then to go up to Columbia to go to Parris Island. I lived very close to Parris Island anyway. I know now why we were brought together into Parris Island. It was for the shock and awe factor to stun the enemy into submission and obedience. The recruit is not a Marine. The recruit is a lump of raw clay, actually more dirt and mud, that must be torn down in every way in order to become a serial numbered piece of the military machine.

     I imagine things may be different now at Parris Island. Perhaps PI is as Fort Jackson was when on leave I was coaxed into visiting a hometown friend who was going through army boot camp at Fort Jackson. I was told there would be no problem seeing him. My friend had been to see him and knew the procedure. Sure enough while my friend was going through his training he was a little freer than we at PI. We found my friend in his army fatigues sitting in front of the TV. I believe that we interrupted his watching his favorite show. We had no TV and no visits from anyone at PI.

     Things were a little different at PI. Upon reaching the base and coming to a stop we were greeted by some great guys who came on the bus and told us we had 3 seconds to get off the bus and that two of those were gone. We stood in the yellow foot prints at attention while being shouted at. This was late at night and we then set about getting our heads shaven, duffle bags, clothes (utilities, underwear, wool socks), boots, tooth brush, powder razors, other toiletries, letter writing gear, brass polish, boot polish, and whatever else would make our lives so comfortable. This lasted for hours and hours.

     We finally made it to sleep after being reminded that there was no talking or sounds of any kind to be made.

     After sleeping for at least minutes we were shock and awed by trash cans thrown and our drill sergeants yelling for us to stand at attention and the law was laid down. Each recruit was individually torn down verbally. When Sgt. Sewell came at me and yelled the question of whether I understood him, I rebelliously sneered, “yes sir”. He softly said, “That’s alright Davis, we’ll straighten you out.” This was equivalent to “good morning”.

     Needless to say “I was straightened out”.

     I hope my nephew doesn’t get Sewell. I’m sure he’s a general by now. He rose quickly to Staff Sergeant. I believe he was 23 or so. He was one of the youngest Staff Sergeants ever, for the Marine Corps. They didn’t just hand out rankings and ribbons. When he hit someone he knew what he was doing. He had a knack for hitting me right below the ribs to deflate my lungs and then dare me to “not stand erectly at attention”. I almost liked it when the other two drill instructors hit me.  Sewell could walk head down between rows or recruits and very quickly put his knee into a recruit’s chest.

     One day Sewell was instructing us on how to turn the backpack strap so that the strap would not cut into your side or arm. He did not want to see anyone turn the strap the wrong way. It was certainly not my intention to sit at the front of the class, sitting on the floor, right in front of him. It appeared to be a mirror image and quickly I would have seen my error had I not been squirming around on the floor trying to get Sewell’s fingers out of my eyes.

     We were kept busy for the 2 months training at PI. Protocol, history of the Marine

Corps, physical training, rifle training, pistol training, KP of all kinds, etc.

     I was there in January and February. Snow was on the ground. The wind was horrendous. We had one of the worst accuracies recorded of the rifle range. Later in Okinawa after Vietnam I would shoot one point less than expert. This “record” we had at the rifle range seemed to not sit well with Sewell so we were punished.

     Punishment/extreme exercise seemed to follow some screw up by one or two folks and the entire “unit” would have to pay. Each soldier would be an integral cog of the unit.

     We had class on disassembling the 45 cal. Pistol. Our test final on this class was to reassemble the 45 cal. Pistol blind-folded. We had to reassemble the pistol without eyes.

This was to be done to finish Parris Island. A recruit needs to get off that island or repeat all training and even take a mandatory excursion into the swamps and marshes for a day or until you had a “better attitude”.

     On this day I was able to reassemble the pistol incredibly fast. I finished and removed my blind fold to see Harry Blackwell from Aiken, SC having trouble.

     I have known two Harry Blackwells. Both were in the USMC. The one I met in Vietnam was from Queens. I was envious or jealous of the Queens Blackwell. He got tons of mail in comparison with me. But alas I was an ass.

     The Harry Blackwell from Aiken was brilliant in my opinion. He was a great Marine. He did everything well and I thought he could have gone to college. This opinion was acquired from very little conversations and more actual dealing with rifles, guns, or anything. He was a very quick learner. I was slower to learn, not as mechanical minded, and screwed up the high school education I did have.

     I was surprised. Harry was better than everybody there at this type of assembly I thought. I removed my blind fold and saw Harry fumbling. The drill instructor in charge of this training had his head turned in another direction. I grabbed the pistol out of Harry’s hand and assembled it very quickly. After all I now had my eyes.

     So perhaps I saved Harry from getting the wind knocked out of him that day. If it had been someone else who needed more training I may have not helped. There was nothing to consider on this day though. Harry would not have learned anything new had I not interfered. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred he could have shown me up. His receiving any punishment today would not serve any purpose.

     I saw Harry years later at his Gas station outside of Aiken. He’s done great I’m sure.

     After being at PI a while we were allowed to smoke. I may have done it just to get out of the barracks, which we never did but for classes or such. Recruits or soldiers march everywhere if there are three (at least in boot-camp). There was no “lounging about”. But smoking was only allowed once at night. We had to lock our footlockers and march out of the barracks and march into a circle. One recruit had a bucket with sand and a match. He would call out that “the smoking lamp was lit”. He lit the first cigarette and every other cigarette was lit from that one in both directions until the last smoker at the other side of the circle finally lit his. I was that guy and by that time “the smoking lamp was out”. When I came back in the barracks I saw that I had left my foot locker unlocked, and much to my chagrin Sewell had seen it too.

     Toward graduation of PI we were allowed to talk among ourselves more. The day before our graduation I somehow caused Staff Sgt. Sewell to rip a button off my shirt. If not me it would have been another recruit.

     He prepped us before graduation that if our parents were there that we had better introduce ourselves correctly. If we did not he would call them son-of-a-bitches or whatever he wanted and if we didn’t like it he’d beat the shit out of us, and if our fathers didn’t like it he’d beat the shit out of them, and if our mothers didn’t like it he’d beat the shit out of her as well.

     I took him at his word.

     There is so much to the story of my time in the military and otherwise. We don’t have time for that now.

     Michael Mann is now “at bat”. Michael Mann is center stage. Michael is an action figure and a lot more. Michael is relinquishing his entire life for years.

     Everyone in the Marine Corps is taught weaponry even though they may be in an office. Every Marine regardless of training can be given a rifle at any time. The infantrymen will always have to “secure the area”.

     No matter. You are going. You will not return the same Michael Mann on your return. Michael Mann will morph into another Michael Mann and will be okay. Someday, if not sooner.

     I don’t get the constant trials and why there is a war. I know there are greed, lust, hunger, and a plethora of other reasons.

     Michael, I want you to know that regardless of how this Marine has/will continually turn out, I will always try to do the right thing.

     Now you have to be brave. You have to act in every circumstance as if your Mom or Dad were there. You can’t throw your life away over trivial outcomes but you are to be tested for the rest of your life as you know.

     I want to give some figures that will not be popular. I am not running for mayor. I care about you and your soul. I don’t want you to be confused as I have been and still am.

     The bad news: About 80 % of our citizens of the US will not really care about you and your contributions in this life. You will be able to trust less than 20% of most folks. Combat situations will differ. As for me the odds are way slimmer. Another story.

     It doesn’t matter. We have to do right and be right as the circumstances of our lives unfold.

     Be your best. Your memory can be agonizingly accurate later.

Be impeccable with your word.

Don’t take anything personally.

Don’t make assumptions.

Always do your best.

(The Four Agreements)

Never desert your country but don’t be surprised when they desert you.

Always try to do more for others than they might for you.

There are millions of reasons to fight. All may be wrong.

If you’re going to fight- fight for the best reasons-

God, family, love, and yes for peace.

When we pray this prayer:

Our Father which art in Heaven,

Hallowed be Thy name,

Thy Kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in Heaven.

Forgive us our trespasses

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

For Thine is the Kingdom, the power, and the glory.

Forever, Amen

We pray that this world and this planet will resemble Heaven.

When you can- keep a journal of your adventure.

Document events and times with receipts or whatever you can.

This is proof of who you are and where you’ve been.

This is your life you are living. It’s worth recording.

Take photos. Be a reporter of your time here on Earth.

There are many things that many can say.

Just be true to yourself and hurry back.

Be careful.

Happy trails, Michael

Semper Fi

I’m not putting photos on my website right now.

I want to call attention to Veterans. I want to say things that are absolutely true.

I hope that this will lead to better treatment of Veterans.

I have lived a life I am proud of, although much pride leads to a big fall.

My path has been very unusual.

I will indeed write things at will draw the response:

“He needs Jesus in his heart.” “He needs to find the Lord”.

Etcetera.

I invite Veterans particularly, to write back with their stories.

I need Americans to write back and say, I see what you mean and I agree.

I certainly do not need advice about how this American should “love his Lord”.

I went to the Church of the Nazarene as a child.

Since that time I have prayed in fox holes, bunkers, hospitals, jails, etc.

I’ve cried out to my “Lord” on deserted dirt roads, in swamps, and on mountain tops.

I have shouted at God concerning the suffering of my mother only to find out that:

“my arms are too short to box with God.”

Don’t tell me I need to find Jesus. I found my Lord a long time ago.

And you certainly make me doubt the existence of yours.

I started several bike rides that now consider me detrimental to the rides making money.

Dealing with Veteran issues can only have these rides suffer financially.

His is one of the points I will make about the United States of Eva Braun.

It will be plain to see after reading a bit that most people do not care about Vets.

Some of those not caring will be cyclists.

Some of those not caring will be policemen.

Some of those not caring will be professing Christians.

I do not want to be remembered as a “Christian”.

I want to be Christ-like.

I will however use words that a Marine might use.

Some adjectives are warranted in these testimonials.

I am speaking for some Veterans.

Not all.

I’ll tell you later about a couple of crooked vets.

All in due time.

If given the time I will write my entire autobiography on this page.

     Below are legal documents that have been filed against me. In one document that I will be posting soon is one stating that my “ex” fears me. It will say that I contacted my ex with many “unsolicited emails”.

     Do any thinking individuals know how emails work? You pretty much have to get an email from someone to be able to send an email to another person. Some contact has to be made for there to be emails at all.

     The “unsolicited email accusation” is not only a lie perpetrated by Paulette Davis, it’s really stupid to consider it much. Why? Every email program I have ever seen has a “spam” folder. Every email program has a “trash” folder. Every email program has a “block” for any emails that come from an undesired source.

     What is very important is what the emails contain.

     I have been very open about my computer as well as my life. Want to confirm what I say? The only way to that is hear or read what I have to say and weigh the facts.

     You don’t weigh “fears and crocodile tears”.

     This, written just above, will be elaborated on.

     Now, about the “fear that my ex has for me.

     Paulette Davis has taken my money, my mind, my bicycle shop, my house (I built it with a bad back-let’s talk), twenty years of my life, and my daughter. Because of Paulette Davis I was forced to get only a sample of my property while an impatient sheriff’s deputy watched and repeatedly told me that he needed to go. Not hurtful? Not embarrassing? Not humiliating? Paulette Davis has contacted as many of my friends as possible and has accused me of all but killing JFK. My real friends haven’t been swayed. My real friends have seen Paulette’s coldness and homicidal tendencies. Paulette Davis has hit me in the face twice to provoke me to anger. There have many times that I was attacked to provoke some reaction. The most action she ever got was shouting from me for Paulette Davis to leave me be.

     The worst thing that Paulette Davis has done is to alienate my daughter. I’m not concerned with any take on this from any side.

     The next worst thing she has done was stealing 20 years of my life. The next worst thing was stealing the last 10 years of my life with my daughter. She’s been living with a lie about me started in 1999 if not before.

     It’s been almost 2 years since I ran away from home. I have been harassed for 2 years even being hundreds of miles away. I’ve been accused of deserting my daughter. I believe that the papers filed against me and the poison my daughter has been issued against me has prevented me from seeing my daughter. I left a draft on my account for a thousand dollars to be drafted every month to the “family” I ran away from. This draft was removed by Paulette Davis. My account has been altered illegally by Paulette Davis.

     So my property is taken. A “scorched Earth policy” against me has been carried out with great vigor. My daughter has been taken from me. My character has been assassinated over and over. My ex-girl friend has been harassed. Her children have been used against me. As a result I can have no relationships. And yes, I love my ex-girlfriend. She has never intentionally hurt me.

     Paulette has lived up to only one promise to me and that is contained in the statement she said below that I wrote on an envelope so as not to forget:

“I will ruin you financially and emotionally”.

     So when is this retaliation from me supposed to happen? Every possible hurt and embarrassment has been hurled at me and I ran away. I ran away from Paulette Davis. I ran away from Mitchell County. I then fled from Charleston because I will not be blamed for the problems that may evolve with children when exes are contacted and all that can be blamed on an outsider may be blamed on the outsider, the “step parent”. I won’t participate in this “blame game”.

     So, Judge Lylerly or whoever the hell is the joke judge of the month, when will this revenge of mine be committed? Never. It is our injustice system that requires the attention. I have no feelings for Paulette Davis. “Judge” Lyerly on the other had is the real asshole. I have no intention of committing any act on this asshole or any other asshole judge. I’ve been framed for a crime I didn’t commit long ago. I was convicted of having grains of marijuana in my Prince Albert tobacco decades ago. I did nothing in retribution then and I have no intentions of retribution now. However it brings to mind again that our injustice system is a fraud run by people who act as they feel.

They punish the innocent Vietnam Veteran who cannot cut his hair and fully join the United States of Eva Braun.

     How many lives has “judge Liar” screwed up since he came to power? Who oversees this asshole? Why are there no checks and balances with these pukes in robes?

I am a Marine. We don’t leave our guys behind. That is one of the first things a Marine learns. Mr. Lyerly, you are a lazy, lying coward. Leave my country. I fought for it. There is no room for judges who beat up Veterans.

Michael Davis is a person. I cry. I hurt. Why do this to me?

Find one person I have abused or taken advantage of.

Let’s hear it.

     Civilians don’t learn this. America has beating up its Veterans since 1776.

     Wives who know longer get what they need and want can instigate horrible actions, make up any story they care to, use a Marine’s PTSD against him, and destroy a man who has been a soldier, a provider, a loving parent that never once hit or spanked his child. These worms will ruin person whose last fight was in a war zone.

     Unless you count chasing a thief who stole a friend’s bike and almost killed the Veteran with a switch-blade knife from which police did not even take fingers prints. Police failed to do their jobs decades ago as when the Veteran was broken into. The police didn’t take prints then either. Why do they only take prints to solve crimes in movies? Why is there a double standard?

     I am hundreds of miles from this mean lying woman. I guess her inviting me to be her friend on “Facebook” is not “soliciting a response. Let me say here that I have no desire ever to go back to Mitchell County. I have no desire to ever see this “human” (?) again.

“You might go to church,

Sit down in a pew.

Those humans who ain’t human,

Will be sitting right next to you.”

Another accusation that is true is that of my contacting her cousin, Rev. Mark McKinney. Once again, what is the content of the “contact”.

     My life is an open book. The emails to “Rev.” Mark was asking what went on in Lyerly’s court? I was told to leave the court room. Court was held in my absence. I wanted to know what was said in my absence. Of course being a Vietnam Vet I would not be humored in this way. My email and or letter would be used against me.

In Mitchell County North Carolina---nepotism is stronger than God.

I will tell some stories about Mitchell County including some about the guy who admits to crapping in the back of a pick-up belonging to an individual with whom there was a disagreement. Names will be divulged. This is a true story.

If anyone desires fantasy – go watch our court system in progress.

The only retribution, that this Veteran wants, is for Judge (?) Lyerly to be deported.

This is a jackass that is supposed to be in charge of justice.

He is in charge of screwing with a Veteran.

He is charged by Michael Davis of warping justice because “he feels” like it.

I took my computer to the court that I would not have. I offered it as evidence of abuse to me, not from me. My computer of evidence was not considered.

The system is corrupt. The people who oversee (if so at all) should be given a job creating by labor. First of all they are getting paid while distorting and ruining lives because “they feel like it”. No evidence-they feel like it.

 These people need to actually do physical labor to build up some “work ethic” that they do not possess but would talk about others less fortunate than themselves.

Our president should make the overhaul of our court system the absolute number one priority. If you do not respect, clothe, house, and otherwise protect the Veteran then this president as well as the others or lazy, Uncle Toms.

I did not vote for President Obama.

No. 1 reason: he seemed genuinely sincere about changing our country.

This means he will be assassinated if he really does change much.

No. 2 is that I really am jaded. He won’t make changes about Vets.

He never said anything about Vets to my knowledge.

If he did, I’m sure it’s just rhetoric.

No. 3 is that I have never voted for a winner. I hate to wreck a streak.

Over 70% of the United States of Eva Braun are Christian.

Allow me very insincerely thank all of you for bringing me:

Nixon, Kennedy, Johnson, Carter, Reagan, Big Bush, Clinton, and the Shrub.

Thank you.

This alone means 70% of people cannot be trusted.

Meanwhile “Nader is a good man, he’s just not “electable”.

So’ I’ll stick my tail between my legs like every good American and continue with the all-corrupt two party system because I’m a coward at the voting booth.”

As Yogi Berra said, “Nobody goes there anymore, it’s too crowded”.

     This little part is written Tuesday, the 9^th of June. I was driving yesterday as I heard over NPR that President Obama had made an address at a German concentration camp. It was just one of many where Jews where slaughtered. President Obama stated how some people denied that the “holocaust” occurred. President Obama went on to say that we should “confront those who would lie about our past”.

     President Obama said we should “confront those who would lie about our past”. Now because President Obama has said this, at least half of the American citizens might be in favor of keeping this torch lit. If Ronald Reagan or one of the Bushes had said it we should have the other half of these “United States” to consider it a worthwhile endeavor. If Billy graham had said “confront those who would lie about our past”, we would have enough support. If the Pope said, “confront those who would lie about our past” we would have support.

     If Michael Davis said, “we need to confront those who would lie about past”, he would not stir the same reactions. Bike charity bicycle rides that he started would distance themselves from him and not want the support that made the rides to start with. He would receive no confirmation that his thoughts were even read. He would receive a note from a Christian friend who would suggest turning his life over to Christ.

     So this writing from now on is considered God’s work. It is also at the request of the president of the United States.

     Michael Davis is a Vietnam Vet who was arrested in the 70s for having grains of marijuana in his can of Prince Albert tobacco. The State Law Enforcer Officer (SC) Sgt. Riley said in court that he could see grains of marijuana from where he was sitting in his car. The jury never considered how Sgt. Riley acquired this incredible eyesight. Sgt. Riley could see grains of anything from where he was sitting in a car. If the court transcript was intact it would tell you exactly what I’m saying now.

     To make this more believable in the eyes of Americans today, allow me to offer up that Sgt. Riley of the SC SLED is black. His accomplice was the Chief of Police of Bamberg, SC, a Gene Schwarting. The “Chief” went into the jury room to talk with the jury as they went to “deliberate”. I guess this would not be considered unethical. This is not considered a “conflict of interest”?

     Michael Davis has not committed crimes or anything else against blacks or whites but even in slavery there were those who would betray their own kind for fear, profit, and maybe even the “Lord”. Michael Davis was the first white man in Bamberg, SC that openly dated a black girl. So it seems illogical that MD would have anything against Sgt. Riley. The same should be true that Sgt. Riley should not have anything against MD. Sgt. Riley was probably “doing his job”.

     So, this Vietnam Veteran, Michael Davis, has committed the heinous crime of bringing these grains of marijuana into Bamberg. He probably smuggled pounds of this illegal substance into the state. Grain by grain of marijuana was smuggled into the state mixed with Prince Albert tobacco. After cleverly getting it into the state/county, the grains of marijuana would be painstakingly picked out of the tobacco and then…..

     Michael Davis would have many tribulations after doing his penance of 45 days out of a 90 day sentence on the chain gang. He got out early for good behavior.

     So does any of this smell funny to any reader? Is it my word about this happening that you want to elaborate on? “Well Michael Davis probably deserves this.”

      “You know, if you lie down with dogs, you’ll get up with fleas”. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire”. Help me write some more “adages” that support whatever the good citizens of this country may be thinking. It must be impossible for a bearded freak Vietnam Veteran like Michael Davis to be right or consistently right.

     I will write more of the stupid frame-up of Michael Davis later. Grains of marijuana in a can of rolling tobacco? “I could see grains of marijuana from where I was sitting in a car”? Ninety days on the chain gang?

     We’ll discuss these and other questions such as “who killed Stanley Patrick?”

     Stanley was a Vietnam Veteran in Bamberg, SC. Stanley Patrick’s biggest problem was that he stayed in Bamberg, SC.

     Thomas Wolfe said, “you can’t go home again”. For a lot of Vets coming home from wars, home is safe. The Vets want to come home to the people the Vet was fighting for. When things get rough in combat the soldier may do what I did. I acted as though my girl friend (that I didn’t have) was there in the situation with me. The people I want to be the best for are here in this situation. I have to be the “go to guy”. I have to be brave regardless of my outcome. Not once did I care about, think about, “Ole Glory”, the flag. I thought of what mattered. The people I was fighting for.

     I submit to most of the Veterans coming back from wars to get out of their hometown.

“Who killed Stanley?”

Why did Stanley move into some woods near Bamberg?

Why did the police follow him there?

Why did he die right there?

Even if people I trusted were to tell me what happened- I may not believe a word.

But then again Michael Davis is a Vietnam Veteran, a Marine.

The biggest question:

Why does this country’s actions, toward Veterans, reek of hatred, or at best, apathy?

     In the meantime, in the early morning hours of November11, 1918, a shrill fire whistle began to blow, mingled with all the other bells and whistles in town. At first some thought there was a massive fire. Others guessed the real news and soon everyone was screaming with joy. A parade spontaneously formed. It included the town band, followed by the town fire truck, followed by hundreds of cars decorated with American flags. Children gathered in the town square and shot fireworks. An elderly Negro woman marched up and down Broad Street, the main thoroughfare, waving the American flag. For one day, at least, segregation took a backseat as other Negro citizens joined the march around the courthouse square and the celebration inside it, waving more flags and shooting fireworks with Caucasian citizens.

     But if any Negroes thought that their loyalty and aid in winning the war would finally lead to true democracy and equality, they soon discovered they were wrong. Caucasians throughout Georgia, as elsewhere in the South, made it clear to returning Negro veterans that seeing them in uniform or hearing that they were determined to no longer suffer the injustices of Jim Crow was an offense to their sensibilities. Roughly sixty miles northeast of Bainbridge, in the town of Sylvester, Daniel Mack, a Negro veteran, was sentenced to thirty days in jail for announcing that now that he had been to France and fought for democracy, he would no longer accept mistreatment from Caucasians. As severe as it was, even that punishment wasn’t enough in the eyes of some local citizens. Before he could finish his sentence a mob broke into the town jail, dragged him out, and beat him to death. Closer still to Bainbridge, in Blakely, forty-three miles to the north, as soon as Wilbur Little alighted from the train after returning from the war, he was forced by a group of local Caucasians to take off his uniform and walk home in his underwear. Despite such intimidation he was resolute in his determination to wear it around town anyway. As a result, he eventually paid with his life.

     We kept our eyes straight forward and did not look at the crowd except for occasional glances to see what was going on. All of a sudden I saw a face I remembered- the drunk from the bus station sit-in. My eyes lingered on him just long enough for us to recognize each other. Today he was drunk too, so I don’t think he remembered where he had seen me before. He took out a knife, opened it, put it in his pocket, and then began to pace the floor. At this point, I told Memphis and Pearlena what was going on. Memphis suggested that we pray. We bowed our heads, and all hell broke loose. A man rushed forward, threw Memphis from his seat, and slapped my face. Then another man who worked in the store threw me against an adjoining counter.

     Down on my knees on the floor, I saw Memphis lying near the lunch counter with blood running out of the corners of his mouth. As he tried to protect his face, the man who’d thrown him down kept kicking him against the head. If he had worn hard-soled shoes instead of sneakers, the first kick probably would have killed Memphis. Finally a man dressed in plain clothes identified himself as a police officer and arrested Memphis and his attacker.

     Pearlena had been thrown to the floor. She and I got back on our stools after Memphis was arrested. There were some whit Tougaloo teachers in the crowd. They asked Pearlena and me if we wanted to leave. They said that things were getting too rough. We didn’t know what to do. While we were making up our minds, we were joined by Joan Trumpauer. Now there were three of us and we were integrated. The crowd began to chant, “Communist, Communists, Communists, Communists.” Some old man in the crowd ordered the students to take us off the stools.

     “Which one should I get first?” a big husky boy said.

     “That white nigger,” the old man said.

     The boy lifted Joan from the counter by her waist and carried her out of the store. Simultaneously, I was snatched from my stool by two high school students. I was dragged about thirty feet toward the door by my hair when someone made them turn me loose. As I was getting up off the floor, I saw Joan coming back inside. We started back to the center of the counter to join Pearlena. Lois Chaffee, a white Tougaloo faculty member, was now sitting next to her. So Joan and I just climbed across the rope at the front end of the counter and sat down. There were now four of us, two whites and two Negroes, all women. The mob started smearing us with ketchup, mustard, sugar, pies, and everything on the counter. Soon Joan and I were joined by John Salter, but the moment he sat down he was hit with something that appeared to be brass knuckles. The blood gushed from his face and someone threw salt into the open wound. Ed King, Tougaloo’s chaplain, rushed to him.

     At the other end of the counter, Lois and Pearlena were joined by George Raymond, a CORE field worker and a student from Jackson State College. Then a Negro boy sat next down next to me. The mob took spray paint from the counter and sprayed it on the new demonstrators. The high school student had on a white shirt; the word “nigger” was written on his back with spray paint.

     We sat there for three hours taking a beating when the manager decided to close the store because the mob had begun to go wild with stuff from other counters. He begged and begged everyone to leave. But after fifteen minutes of begging, no one budged. They would not leave until we did. Then Dr. Beittel, the president of Tougaloo College came running in. He said he had just heard what was happening.

     About ninety policemen were standing outside the store; they had watched the whole thing through the windows, but had not come in to stop the mob or anything.

The above was taken from “Coming of Age in Mississippi” by Anne Moody.

After several other demonstrations:

     Our cell didn’t even have a curtain over the shower. Every time the cops heard the water running, they came running to peep. After the first time, we fixed them. We took chewing gum and toilet tissue and covered the opening in the door. They were afraid to take it down. I guess they thought it might come out in the newspaper. Their wives wouldn’t have liked that at all. Peep through a hole to see a bunch of nigger girls naked? No! No! They certainly wouldn’t have liked that. All the girls in my cell were college students. We had a lot to talk about, so we didn’t get bored. We made cards out of toilet tissue and played Gin Rummy almost all day. Some of us even learned new dance steps from each other.

After several other demonstrations:

     All of a sudden, the air was full of laughter from teen-agers on the church lawn. At that moment, the two cops jumped the little ditch between the street and the church lawn and began pulling a young man named McKinley Hamilton toward the street by both arms. When they made it to the ditch, they jumped again, still dragging McKinley, who was stumbling behind. They thought he was resisting them. One of the cops cracked him across the head with his billy stick, and the other joined in. The licks were hitting hard and sounded loud against McKinley’s head. Two more cops joined in. The Negroes on the lawn began to move slowly toward the street.

     “Stop beating that boy!” Mrs. Chinn yelled.

     “We ain’t gonna take that!” someone yelled as every Negro on the lawn began to move faster.

     McKinley was down on the pavement in a pool of blood. By the time the Negroes reached the ditch, a jeep driven by a cop had pulled up. As McKinley was picked up bodily and thrown into it, big clots of blood dripped from his head and you could only see the whites of his eyes.

     “They killed him!” some old Negro screamed.

     “Jesus, they’ve killed the boy,” cried another.

     I don’t know how I got there but I found myself standing on the edge of the ditch with the other Negroes. I realized that within a second or so all hell was going to break loose and that I, too, was going to be a part of it. I turned and looked at the crowd. Everyone in the church was now standing on the church lawn- about six hundred Negroes. They were raging with anger.

     “Come on, let’s go back inside!” Reverend Cox was yelling over the noise that filled the air. Almost everyone ignored him and continued talking. “We can’t handle this out here this way! Let’s go inside and discuss it.”

     Suddenly there was a new commotion as I started back toward the church. Two white men were standing in the street. Negroes were shouting at them. “What happened? What happened? You men are crazy,” a teen-ager yelled.

     “Weren’t you sitting over there in that car?” shouted another teen-ager. “We saw you. And you saw what happened just like we did!”

     Angry shouts from other teen-agers and adults forced the two white men to retreat to a red car that had been parked at the intersection by the church all morning. “Who are they?” I asked Mrs. Chinn, who was standing just outside the church door.

     “FBI’s,” she said. “They were sitting over there and they saw it all just as we did, and them bastards had the nerve to ask what happened.”

Someone may say now,

“How dare he take this civil rights struggle and use it out of context?”

If you think that the civil rights issue is over you are wrong.

If America doesn’t support its Veterans it is a fake country, with fake people.

Just as a white chief of police and a black SLED agent framed me,

they can frame anybody and they do.

The words above and throughout will demonstrate that

our government

cannot be trusted with a damn thing.

Not for the entire 200 plus years of existence.

Police officers will cause grief and then stand around and watch while they do nada.

Black, white, brown, get over it.

What I’m saying is that “buy all the “support the troops ribbons” you want.

It won’t mean shit unless you treat the Vet with respect.

All people deserve respect.

If you don’t respect the Veteran, get the hell out of the country that I fought for.

Judge Lyerly- Get the hell out of my country- you “piece of shit on a good man’s shoe”.

Paulette and Michael have called an end to there marriage.
Michael relinquishes all property of the Bicycle Inn to Josie so as not to be a burden on the family.

I will not take one brick or stick from the home.

Michael

It is not in my grasp at the moment but I was sent a document that accuses me of sending out 20 plus "unsolicited emails".
Unsolicited?
As in Paulette Davis has never emailed Michael Davis?
As in Paulette Davis has never written to my friend and my friend's family?
Does the court of Mitchell County understand how emailing works?
Does the court understand that emails can easily be blocked.
Or is the stereotypical buffoonery of the hillbilly mountain people been truly characterized by those flatlanders and city-folk for centuries now?
Or is it just typical of the buffoonery of the court system of North Carolina, South Carolina, and the entire court system of the United States of America?
I'm accused of not supporting my daughter.
I gave thousands of literal dollars to my daughter in the year of 2008.
This is fact. Provable to any court of reason. This fact alone none, other needed, is proof that Paulette Davis is a liar and the court of North Carolina is as well. Thanks to dishonest people like Liarly. Still where is the outrage at injustices like this levied for hundreds of years?
I say to the people and especially to the American poor- Do not fight another war for the rich. Your country will not protect you later.

Your bravery will be used for gated communities where only money can buy justice.
Ask Allen Derschowitz.
I say to all of America:
when you see injustice by a judge wearing a robe to frighten the hell out of people run that judge from this country with tar and feathers.
 
Here is a time line for you.
1600 or so people flooded the US and started US slavery.
1860s civil war broke out over slavery.
Persecution of the enslaved people continued until this morning I think.
Oh- you need more time lines? Sure.
In the late 1800s treaties were overturned and the word of the US was null and void with near extinction of the Indian.
Negroes in the south were charged with bogus crimes and worked to death in mines, fields, etc.
For decades after slavery was ended slavery was at it's worst.
Major Taylor a black cyclist had to move to New England in 1895 to better race his bike.
Even in the north he had hard times racing.
In 1899 400 black men had been lynched in GA, Miss., etc.
After the turn of the century in Mitchell County, a favorite story is repeated today about putting all the blacks onto freight cars and being sent away.
In 1938 Joe Louis was word champ in boxing.
In 1968 when Michael Davis was in a war in Vietnam
trackmen Tommie Smith and John Carlos gave their black power salute on the Olympic medal podium.
They only wanted to get closer to what was hoped for after the civil war a hundred years ago.
A century after the civil war in Cypress, CA a five year old was tied up, stoned, and spray-painted with the word nigger.
His name was Tiger Woods.
In 2000 plus there are few negroes living in Mitchell County. The KKK is strong. Deer hunting is strong.
Politics are undoubtedly as in other small communities crooked. Nepotism is rampant.
Yet Americans repeatedly send their children out to hell to fight for the rich
as they put all their money on a government that continues to lie to them and murder their children and other's children.
The American people continue to support lawyers and judges that are so crooked that they see their wrong and are just pleased as punch to make money on the unfortunate souls who trust them.
t In the 1970s Michael Davis was arrested by a SLED agent with the chief of police of a small town.
He was arrested for having grains of Marijuana in a can of his Prince Albert tobacco.
In court Sgt. Riley told the jury that he could see grains of marijuana from where he was sitting in his car. Michael Davis was arrested blocks away.
If he was "seen" why wasn't he arrested at the phone he was using where the officer "saw" him.
Nobody in this court including the judge had a problem with Sgt. Riley's incredible eyesight.
Sgt. Riley could see grains of pot in a can of Prince Albert tobacco.
Judge, Sgt. Riley (who is black), Chief Schwarting, people of the jury, and to all other liars who torture people with their maliciousness, to all people who may strive to see me dead and worse- Michael Davis says you're liarts and deserve to be run out of these United States.
I, Michael Davis, say that today because of the lack of justice in the year of 2009 in Mitchell County, the judge Lyarly should be run out of these United States for not giving this Veteran of these United States a voice. You are a liar and like all bullies you don't get a "your honor" you do not get a sir.
You can make Michael Davis adhere to a lot. You are government.
I, Michael Davis, who has been to war and been cheated during and after the war, or all future veterans that have to face a "Lyarly":
Judge ? Lyarly you and the sheriff Fox are cheaters and cowardly liars along with your lying officer Riley.
Now kill me you sorry pieces of shit.
Today is a good day to die! I wrote a poem for all the crooked Americans of today including Lylerly, Fox, and Sgt. Riley.
 

Shit On A Good Man’s Shoe

You’re just shit on a good man’s shoe.

Always looking for someone to screw.

Better watch out or it could be you.

He can start a big nasty war

While smoking on his big cigar

And driving his fancy car.

Hiding behind his sheriff’s star.

We fought a war for you.

Now you’re just shit on a good man’s shoe.

You’ll have pride in your SUV

You’ll have stickers for us all to see.

You’re as patriotic as you can be.

Well you’re just a liar to Vets like me.

Send our troops just don’t ask you.

You’re just shit on a good man’s shoe.

You might wear a robe and sit on a throne

But you’ll have a judgment day of your own.

You can’t leave a good man alone.

You’re gonna’ reap just what you’ve sown.

This is for soldiers both alone and gone.

Support our troops your sticker might say.

      But you’d have us dead if you had it your way.

Go ahead and screw a Vet.

You ain’t seen nothing yet.

The good Lord’s gonna’ get back at you.

You’re just shit on a good man’s shoe.

I'd like Paulette to go to Judge Lyerly, Liarly, however the freak wants to spell it
and say that she has indeed lied about me and that he should be deported for not giving a Vietnam Veteran a chance to defend himself.
Paulette can then go by the dishonorable sheriff Fox and tell him he's a sorry excuse for a sheriff.

She can then write the Mitchell County News Journal and tell them that they are indeed a self serving rag of no merit.
Maybe then fire off a couple of barbs to the ACLU which actually means Americans Could care Less about U.










 

What Really Made You Cry?

What really made you cry?

Did you stick your finger in your eye?

In your mind did a little dog die?

What really made you cry?

You sat on the witness stand

With a bible in your hand.

Then you began to lie.

But what really made you cry?

I’ve seen those crocodile tears.

You’ve been using them now for years.

I saw them in your eyes.

The very day I said goodbye.

You told me how it would be.

How you would ruin me.

So you began to lie.

So what really made you cry?

No one misses the water

Until that well runs dry.

But when you took my child

That’s what really made me cry.

Did you get some memory in your eye?

What really makes you cry?

When you took my child

That’s what really made me cry.

The above check was on an account from 2003.
If there were an ounce of honesty in Paulette McMahan Davis
she would say that she wrote an agreement such as the one I wrote below in 2003
(my computer says so Mr. Lyerly-you sorry excuse for a human being).
 

Paulette and Michael have called an end to there marriage.
Michael relinquishes all property of the Bicycle Inn to Josie so as not to be a burden on the family.

I will not take one brick or stick from the home.

Michael
However Paulette McMahan Davis stole the copy she signed out the owner's manual of my car.

Below are notes and letters I've written over years.

Dear Mr. Fox and the NC Sheriff’s Association.

     I’m holding your request for funds and to be a 2005 NCSA Honorary Business Member.

     In the third paragraph of your request you state:

     “In recent years, with the help of business people throughout the state, North Carolina Sheriff’s Association has succeeded in convincing lawmakers to enact stronger laws against criminals, fairer treatment for victims, and overall improvement in our criminal justice system.”

     The gist of the next paragraph states that my “$50 dues will be used for the Association to speak up for all law-abiding citizens in our State”.

     Does this mean that the reason I haven’t spoken up for is that I haven’t paid enough into the system? Does this mean that when vandalism occurs in this area, and that is continuously, we just haven’t paid enough? Does this mean that when someone vandalizes my signs, continuously, that you will come out and gather evidence like a law enforcement agency should? Does this mean that when mailboxes are beaten up and traffic signs are removed that you will actually instill some program to deter the ongoing “rite of passage” that seems to permeate our Mitchell County? Or do you rely on those relatives or citizens for their vote in the next election? Does this statement mean that I won’t have to go into my yard or the neighboring field and take cement castings of tire tracks and that someone with the Sheriff’s department would actually make an attempt to retrieve evidence? Or is justice only determined by money and nepotism?

     Will this mean that when I report a dog coming out into the road and taking a bicyclist down maiming them for life that maybe an officer might stop by the home of the owner and talk to them at least? I personally went by the sheriff’s office in Mitchell County and was almost berated for even suggesting such a thing. We had a lady taken down and maimed and your department did absolutely nothing. It should not be up to the injured or anyone else indirectly connected to the incident to speak out on the dangers of someone being killed by an aggressive animal. It should not be a “rite of passage” to keep a dangerous animal. Or are the institutions that make laws and enforce the laws concerned that the dangerous elements of our society will not vote for them. Are their rights more important than law-abiding citizens? It should have been the sheriff’s dept. to talk with the owner and bring action against further problems. A leash law should at least be enforced. No private citizen should approach the homes of mean and or dangerous people.

     I am the owner of the Bicycle Inn Located near Bakersville, NC in Mitchell County. I bring people into the county and besides the web, Roan Mountain, The Blue Ridge Parkway, I feel that I bring more tourists and have put Mitchell county on the map more than most other institutions. I personally decades ago raised thousands of dollars for Cystic Fibrosis. For thirty years I have raised and helped raise thousands for charities with bike rides such as The Beat Goes On bike ride for the Spruce Pine Community Hospital, Chris Boone’s record setting “Parkway” ride to raise money for Hospice of Mitchell County, 4H activities, etc. I currently designed the courses, painted arrows on the roads, keep a mail list, emailist, etc., etc. I am more responsible for raising thousands of dollars for much needed funds for our Bakersville Volunteer Fire Dept., of which I am a member.

     A fellow Veteran lived on Roses Branch in Mitchell County. He and his family were harassed by locals in that area. They fired guns near their home. They had an infant in the home. The Mitchell County Sheriff’s Dept. could/would not do anything? Please correct me on this. The family had to sell their home and move. Before doing so the wife and child couldn’t stay there regularly. The husband/father and I could have put an end to it. We didn’t. I guess we would have been wrong to have done so? How many of the NC Sheriff’s Dept. would have put up with it? How many gun toting people in Mitchell, period, would have tolerated it?

     When the government of NC treats all of its citizens the same I will give you more money. Until you address these issues I have, including the separate story of my neighbor I will not give you a cent even if extorted from me.

     I believe there are fair minded people in your sheriffs’ depts. One of which I believe is Donald Street. We speak all the time. I believe him to be a fine man. The problems come from the dregs and the failure to address real issues. I don’t care if some is smoking marijuana. Why focus on this senseless, victimless crime if it doesn’t affect children? We are the most imprisoned nation on Earth? Yet money, corporations, politicians, and athletes get away with murder while they actually make life hell on others. Bullies are free to bully. Currently my Bicycle Inn sign is lying on the ground. I have replaced 3 signs and repaired another. These are crimes. Mailboxes or other property are damaged all the time. Traffic signs are removed. Yet you don’t have plans to educate the spoiled brats that are up at all hours on 4 wheelers and autos that after a while we’re talking about real money.

     You would make an example of some other poor fool over something more trivial.    You have real issues. Address them.

Michael Davis

319 Dallas Young Road

Bakersville, NC 28704

828-688-9333

A former Marine and perpetual community servant.

     The “annual” New Year’s Eve party was a real hoot.

     There were all age groups, and most walks of life were represented.

     There was great food (pot-luck, always). At midnight we had the countdown and, as usual, (4^th year running) there were fireworks to bring in the New Year. Everyone soon parted for his or her own homes.

     At 5:00 AM or so my neighbor Gary Peterson started up some type of machinery. After quite a bit of annoyance I got up to see what was going on. I thought that surely something was amiss at my neighbor’s house. I walked up the road and saw that he, Gary, was walking back and forth. I assumed that his power was off or that he was pumping water out of his basement.  I would have helped him if I knew how to approach him. A little later he had his chainsaw down by the “inn” (Bicycle Inn). We had quests and I was concerned that it would be as upsetting to them as it was to me.

     I was standing in the middle of the road as I waited for Gary to stop slicing a stump next to his shed, a job that could have been done at 5 pm instead of 5 am. When he stopped I asked, “It’s a little early for this isn’t it Gary?” He immediately started yelling and came right at me getting right into my face. He said that what we (those attending the party, did last night was uncalled for. He said that his wife had to get up this morning (New Years Day) to go to work. He lit into me with a barrage of insults that I’ve never seen in my 53-½ years on Earth.

I was not allowed to say that I’m sorry and that I would not intentionally interrupt anybody’s sleep. I certainly didn’t know that she had to work and get up early. Most people of course didn’t for New Years Day. It seemed even more plausible that they (Gary and his family) didn’t mind the fireworks. I had asked them to attend last year’s party and enjoy the fireworks with us (through Gary). I asked that Gary’s daughter and son-in-law be asked to join in the festivities. Gary, in this conversation said that they could see the fireworks from his house (it’s above us on a hill). I wish that I could have been asked to not have any fireworks for any reason and I would not have had them. I love to see my guests enjoying themselves but not at the expense of anybody else.

     The reason I opened the “inn” is because I love cycling and want to promote different means of transportation than the noise and air polluting internal combustion engine. I’m a vegetarian because I don’t believe in the lack of compassion that is shown to the “lower in the food chain life forms”. I want to respect most life forms especially humans.

     If Gary will tell me when something is upsetting him I will try to correct it. I want to be his friend and I want to be a good neighbor.

     We had fireworks for the 2 years that he has lived here. I don’t think it was beyond normalcy to think that we could have them again. I don’t plan to have them again. Actually I never go to any fireworks shows as I saw enough in Vietnam. Also I don’t like drama or highs and lows in my life. Being extremely happy seems to be followed sooner or later with a depression similar in magnitude.

     I was never allowed to tell Gary these things. He came at me yelling and pushing. When he wasn’t pushing he was taunting me by putting his cigar into my face. At this point we have to think about what Jesus or Gandhi or any wise spiritual leader would do. I guess stand there. We have had Jesus and Gandhi. They don’t change the wicked. They’re just killed.

     Gary looms over me 6 or 10 inches it seems. I am 5’6”. Gary is quite a bit taller. He was not more than an inch or two from me. I informed Gary that if he continued pushing me and taunting me with his cigar that I would “wear his ass out”. He continued. I struck Gary in the chest and grabbed his coat and shoved him back. He was stunned. This evidently was not going as he thought it would. I told Gary that he wasn’t going to win this fight. Gary knew it too. He started looking around for something to hit me with. He was looking for a weapon. When I saw him stunned and lost about what he should do I didn’t rush him and finish the job. I left, went into my home and spent too much of the morning apologizing to my guests. Gary went back his home and got a gun.

      I am an ex-Marine. This government of ours, during and after the war, screwed me. There is no way that I’ll ever trust any segment of this government and absolutely nobody who works for it.

     Someone needs to communicate, to every bully out there, that I won’t tolerate his or her crap. It is not in me. I am 53 years old. This America that we live in is a bully. There is way too much testosterone flying around. I have been cheated and lied to and about by every segment of this country. I am peace loving. I am a volunteer for the fire department. I will try to save or help every life out here. I will absolutely not tolerate a bully. This is my pledge to the world.

     I have delayed in writing this. I didn’t call the police immediately as I want things to not be irreparable.

My moral dilemma has been this:

Do I just let this irrational behavior to go unchecked only to be repeated again and again?

This isn’t rational at all to treat anybody like this, especially your neighbor, especially one that has never intentionally done anything to provoke the other. The most critical analysis of this is that when bullying and taunting didn’t work out as he planned he looked for another weapon.

     This man is employed as a prison guard. He brings his work home with him. My opinion is that he taunts prisoners with pushing them and putting that cigar in their faces. Some prisoners are as bad as he is but I doubt that many are as ruthless, bullying, lying, and as vengeful as he is. I would bet that few are as cowardly as he. If prisons are to be (or remain) places of taunting, beating, and torturing, I’m not aware of these characteristics to be acceptable to civilized beings. What makes this more disturbing is that most of his prisoners I am sure he treated such as this were defenseless, shackled, and threatened with more time under Mr. Peterson. If this man can be so absolutely weird with me he is and has been unacceptably mean with his prisoners and needs to be investigated.

     My history with Gary has been approximately this:

     Meeting Gary Peterson I complemented him on his purchase and said a man could do a lot with it. He very gruffly retorted, “A man could do whatever he wanted to with it”. Fine. Maybe we shouldn’t talk too much right now.

     On a busy Friday night for us Mr. Peterson was moving in at 2:00 AM using a loud riding lawnmower or small tractor. Concerned that my guests may not return, I got up to go request that the noise be held down. When I walked up to the Peterson’s home Mr. Peterson wasn’t in sight but his wife was. My words to Mrs. Peterson were, “Could I please beg ya’ll to hold the noise down? We have guests that are trying to sleep.” The next day as Mr. Peterson was driving to work I flagged him down and apologized and tried to explain. He went into rant mode. “Well you came up to my house” etc. I asked what I was supposed to do and tried to make my apology the last word for me.

     Gary put his constantly barking dog in his shed next to the road and next to the “inn”. He dug up a $70 Japanese “vertical Yew plant that I had planted next to his shed when Doc Young owned the property. He buried the plant. What sense is this? He could move it. It was his. He could do what he wanted but why? For 2 years he has gotten up early mowing his grass at daybreak and driving his lawnmower. His objective is to harass. Most of his annoyances are revenge for something that never happened. If ”it” did happen what was “it”?

     Until the taunting and pushing on New Years Day I was always friendly and respectful of Mr. Peterson. Let me make this absolutely clear. I will not be pushed or bullied by this man. He is a man of revenge and is quite good at it. If I suddenly cease to exist check him and his friends out. The truth is I don’t like it here on planet Earth. I am 53 years old and would like to promote cycling and peace. If that bothers anybody please convey to them to kill me now and I’d like to be cremated.

                                                          Michael Davis

     This is an up date on the neighbor lunatic.

From what I gather no former high school classmates like him and wish I had done more for our community.