Perpetrator #1

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Last cor­rec­tion: 1 May, 2015

Elise Kost — This is per­pe­tra­tor #1. She is the weak­est link in the entire chain of crim­i­nal vio­lence that per­me­ates Joshua Tree and its vicinity.

Squeeze her and whomever set her up for the crime will lead you to the take­down of the entire crim­i­nal enter­prise run rampant.

In the pho­to­graph, she is adver­tis­ing her­self on Shut­ter­stock as an “Enlight­ened god­dess of divine what­ever.” She is the one every­one in town pro­tects and wants to be like.

The pho­to­graph is about ten years old.

On Feb­ru­ary 9, 2009 on the premises of the Sat­ur­day farmer’s mar­ket, and under the direc­tion of Lori Her­bel, mayor of Yucca Val­ley, Elise Kost lured me into a posi­tion, near to where Doug “the fruit­man” has a table. That is where Stacy Moore, edi­tor of the High Desert Star took her position.

Once I was dis­tracted, her part­ner or hus­band in crime approached me from behind and wacked the hell out of me. It left me with crush injuries to my tho­rax, shoul­der and neck. It should also be noted that on that day, it was the first and only time in the his­tory of the farmer’s mar­ket that the Citizen’s Patrol were not on duty. They are accomplices.

He, the hus­band, is called, “The Wolf.” It is the only name he is known by. At the time of his attack, I was 62 years old, 155–60 lbs, 5’9″. He is 6’6″, 275 lbs., 35 –40 yrs. He took a 40 lb bolt, 4′ long, of fac­tory rolled out­door can­vas and lev­eled a direct and crush­ing blow to the cor­ner of my left shoul­der and neck leav­ing me with among other issues, chronic nerve root dam­age. He then fled the scene.

With­out con­stant med­ica­tion and phys­i­cal ther­apy, my arm and leg become a mass of phys­i­cal mis­ery that degen­er­ates into a night­mare of throb­bing use­less­ness. Every time I take a pill I relive the incident.

As an aside, I still remem­ber what that first sher­iff said to me when I called in the attack. He, through his laugh­ter said, “What? A piece of can­vas fell on you? Did any­one see it? Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha.” So here’s an update officer: Go fuck yourself.

After I fled the scene of my attack, made it to my vehi­cle and drove off…I cir­cled back, parked my vehi­cle out of sight and walked back, unde­tected into the scene. That was the crit­i­cal time of assess­ment. That was when I noted the edi­tor in con­fer­ence with “Doug the fruit­man.” And that was the time I noted a dis­trict attor­ney in con­fer­ence with Lori Herbel.

How do I know? Not because he is a white male, medium build, late thir­ties. But because about six months later, while called into report for jury duty, I rec­og­nized this same man work­ing along side San Bernardino Dis­trict Attor­ney, James Adams. Together, they emerged from inside the Dis­trict Attorney’s office with their briefs and boxes under arms in the lobby of the White­feather Road courthouse.

When these men saw me watch­ing them, they both stopped dead in their tracks, shocked expres­sions on their faces, scan­ning my body for injuries and stood frozen in time, as if for some sort of response. They both have full knowl­edge of the crime that had been wit­nessed by the one who was there.

At this time, the attempted mur­ders that were to fol­low have been tracked to a junc­ture. But those two know about them because I listed them as per­sons of inter­est in my report to the Grand Jury and FBI. So far, I have yet to be rep­ri­manded for fil­ing false or friv­o­lous com­plaints by any agency whatsoever.

Back at the ranch, the hus­band, known as  “The Wolf” has only one expres­sion. It is a locked-in and frozen shit-eating grin that reminds me of a heroin addict with a twenty-five year old mon­key on his back.

They live together at 63252 Shift­ing Sands, Joshua Tree, CA

The title to their home has been dif­fi­cult to deter­mine since it is not recorded under their known names.

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Expect delays for up to 30 days.

This web­site is under­go­ing a rad­i­cal redesign and opti­miza­tion.  In the meantime…Everybody knows.

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My time in Morongo Basin: 1995 — 2015

Updated: 30 April 2015 to cor­rect sequence of dates.

When in 2009, the mayor of Yucca Val­ley had me beaten in the street like a dog I thought it was over. But then, in 2012, after one then a sec­ond vio­lent attempt on my life failed to fin­ish the job I real­ized they were not going to quit and I bet­ter find out who was involved and why, before they try again.

That’s when I filed my first police report with the sheriff’s depart­ment only to dis­cover that they’re just stooges, thugs who enforce the rules and inter­ests of the local white mafioso: its mayor, its coun­cils, cham­bers and pulpits. That’s who they serve and obey.

They oper­ate like wild dogs with guns and badges. They’ll gang beat any­one they can to death and give “macho points” to whomever gets away with the tor­ture and mur­der of inmates in their custody. Everyone I know, espe­cially chil­dren are ter­ri­fied of them, their pres­ence, their demeanor and actions.

As peace offi­cers I doubt any one of them have ever had a peace­ful day in their lives, or would even know what to do with them­selves should they ever suf­fer a peace­ful moment. There is no evi­dence that their acad­emy ever taught them to respect the law, just how to apply vio­lence and get away with it.

And that’s the whole answer to the rid­dle of jus­tice in America. When cops and judges begin to show respect for law, then cit­i­zens will have a chance to do the same.

Now you have it, the whole town hierarchy—all good, nor­mal Anglo-Americans who attend church, go to meet­ings, make war on the world, fuck up everyone’s envi­ron­ment and screw each other’s wives, hus­bands and children.

The so-called lib­er­als in the area are a com­plete waste, just wolves in sheep’s cloth­ing who let the right-wingers do all their dirty work for them and pre­tend to escape respon­si­bil­ity through what they attempt to sell as “transcendence.”

Be care­ful around them, they are pris­on­ers of ego who spe­cial­ize in lies, delu­sions, spir­i­tual quack­ery and  back-stabbing.

Yet, what makes them par­tic­u­larly laugh­able is how hyp­no­tized they are by their own apa­thy. It is some­thing they hold “sacred” as if it were a mys­ti­cal, or reli­gious expe­ri­ence. My advice, step over them to avoid the stench.

Finally, I took my story to the news­pa­per only to be shocked to have found them to be co-conspirators in my assault. They, cer­tainly its edi­tor, were there as part of the assault team to quash, I sup­pose, any and all wit­ness tes­ti­mony. They had a stake in see­ing me hurt and out of the pic­ture, but why?

There had to be some sort of pruri­ent  plea­sure in it for them too, some­thing sadis­tic in itself, oth­er­wise why would any­one do that to another human being? Very strange and lurid people.

So here’s the head­line: It’s not a “news­pa­per.” It is sim­ply a pool of stenog­ra­phers who write what they are told at a penny-saver they like to call “news.” They were “in on it.”

But all that was not why I decided to begin this blog when I did, back in 2012. The rea­son I decided to begin this blog was to dis­pel the laugh­ter of my assailants. They put me on my back for five full sleep­less, anguish filled years for which I am still tak­ing med­ica­tion to help relieve.

And the crazy thing is, I don’t even know any of the sev­eral peo­ple involved in my assault and bat­tery, nor the ass­holes who have attempted to mur­der me. I don’t know them, but they seem to know me and it is really very spooky. I see them around town, they all live in nice houses. They all drive shinny new cars, take vaca­tions and really “get a kick” out of know­ing what they did to me.

I know that because when they spot me around town they hold their tum­mies and laugh, laugh, laugh, laugh because they know that they have the right to walk up to me any­where, any­place, any­time and get away with it again and again and again. There­fore, I never go out into pub­lic any­more for fear of my very life.

I sup­pose those are the priv­i­leges that come with class, race, and wealth and they are in the per­fect place for it. We all know that they can beat my skull into pulp or empty a pis­tol into my face right in the lobby of Star­bucks and nobody will see or hear a thing. That’s who these peo­ple are. It’s what they are. And they will defend it with their lives.

And that’s why I began to write, not for the sake of jus­tice. I under­stand that can’t hap­pen here, its too white for justice. They wouldn’t know what it was, or what to do with it other than shoot it, beat it, kill it, sell it, or screw it. It’s who they are.

I did it for the kids. To let them know that they are not alone, nor are they the only ones who know what big fuck­ing idiot ass­holes their par­ents really are and to never give up, hang in there and when you’ve got the chance…make change happen!

Next: Names, addresses, pho­tos and descrip­tions of all my assailants. May they all eat shit, drop dead and go to hell.

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HDMC and the Quality Assurance Fee — What is it?

Part 2

What is the Qual­ity Assur­ance Fee (QAF)? (.pdf)

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High Desert Medical Center (HDMC) as Roadkill for Vulture Capitalists

Hi-Desert Med­ical Cen­ter (HDMC) as Road­kill for Vul­ture Cap­i­tal­ists  (.pdf)

by
Tom Loret
Pub­lic Cit­i­zen
29 Palms, Cal­i­for­nia
April, 2015

Please click on title to open.

Commons

Com­mons

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Local Hi-Desert Government Goes Begging “Big” Liberal, Democratic State for Socialist Remedy

Typ­i­cally unable to find their own butt with both hands, utterly use­less when it comes to cleaning-up their messes, and proudly blind to fact-based real­ity, a con­tin­gent of mostly right-wing anti-welfare, anti-liberal, anti-socialist, anti-Democratic, Bible-beating Chris­t­ian Repub­li­cans plan to go on a fun-filled jun­ket to Sacra­mento where they will plead with the big bad lib­eral Demo­c­ra­tic state to save them from themselves.

Read the full story here: “State to vote on loan to build Yucca Val­ley sewer sys­tem

…“We’re hop­ing to get 0 per­cent inter­est for 20 years and not to exceed 1 per­cent for the remain­ing 10,” Jen­nifer Poland, pub­lic infor­ma­tion offi­cer for the water dis­trict, said.

…Trav­el­ing to Sacra­mento for Tuesday’s [March 17, 2015] meet­ing will be Hi-Desert Water Dis­trict Gen­eral Man­ager Ed Muzik, Assis­tant Gen­eral Man­ager Mark Ban, Chief Finan­cial Offi­cer Rochelle Clay­ton, Pub­lic Infor­ma­tion Offi­cer Jen­nifer Poland, board Pres­i­dent Bob Stadum, direc­tors Sarann Gra­ham and Roger Mayes, Yucca Val­ley Town Man­ager Cur­tis Yaki­mow, Mayor George Hunt­ing­ton and Cham­ber of Com­merce Pres­i­dent Wanda Stadum.

Muzik said Wednes­day that Assem­bly­man Chad Mayes, of Yucca Val­ley, and Sen­a­tor Jean Fuller, of Bak­ers­field, may also speak to the board to ask for a lower inter­est rate.”

The fun­ni­est part will be when the loans are approved and the head­lines read: Repub­li­cans bring home the bacon! Repub­li­cans get the job done! Or even, We won! David slays Goliath!

Then, in order to finance their re-elections, they’ll hand the con­tracts over to friends and fam­ily to man­age the monies and mis­man­age the work. They’ll explain it by insist­ing that they’re “blessed.” If you attend their town coun­cil meet­ings you’ll hear them bleat, “As this is a gov­ern­ment meet­ing we now request that you stand up and show respect to our reli­gion and our God whose will and desires we are here to serve and obey.”

At that point a proper response ought to be, ” Go fuck your­selves with your stink­ing god­damn gods, your fucked-up demons and all your crappy reli­gions. Just get the fuck out of here and take your filthy, phony, trumped-up wars, your insane, lunatic incom­pe­tence, and all your crim­i­nal, inhu­man, bogus, self-serving polit­i­cal plat­forms with you.”

In other words, as one of their “esteemed” national lead­ers, Sen­a­tor John McCain recently screamed to a group of female anti-war and anti-torture pro­test­ers, “Get out of here, you low-life scum!” (http://www.reuters.com/article/2015/01/29/us-usa-mccain-protesters-idUSKBN0L22V520150129).

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