In times of universal deceit, telling
the truth is a revolutionary act.
         - George Orwell


Napoleon once observed that "history" is a set of lies agreed upon. In an era of ubiquitous fake news and information warfare, this has never been more true. The very concept of objective truth in history is fading out of our world. Pure propaganda and outright lies are passing into our history textbooks as unquestioned truth, condemning future generations to false views about historical reality. But the task of sifting through the lies and propaganda is overwhelming, limited by the ambition and time constraints of most observors. Only those who have dedicated their lives to sorting reality from falsehood are qualified to rewrite "consensus" history as a duty to humanity. The contributors to this site endeavor to do just that.

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Tuesday, October 24, 2017

"GUILTY!" - Just-Us Served In the Land of Snowflakes

JP's trial today did not go well.  He later shared with me the letter he composed after getting home from the courthouse, addressed to his once-and-former girlfriend, Anna. He has agreed to let this letter be published publicly.  Here it is:
October 24, 2017

Dear Anna,

After 3 1/2 long months of waiting, I went to court today and was read the verdict:  GUILTY.  Guilty of what?  "Being in a park."  That's it, end of story.  It didn't matter to the judge that that region of St. Marys is called a "Field" and/or "The Flats"; it didn't matter that the entire field was cordoned off with 'Caution' tape to keep any and all people away; it didn't matter that I had never been there before and had no idea that the area would qualify as the type of "park" I am not allowed in; and it didn't matter that I only ended up there because I was seeking a place to park AWAY from the crowds of people downtown.  Why did none of this matter? Because as I suggested in my earlier letter(s), I am fodder for a system that chews people up and spits them out.
There is no mercy for "sex offenders" in our society, Anna.  It doesn't matter that seven years ago it was the 15-year old girl who came to MY door looking for sex with a stud.  It doesn't matter that she was just three weeks shy of her 16th birthday, and that she lied to me about her age.  It doesn't matter that she had been having sex for three years already with a variety of boyfriends.  It doesn't matter that we didn't even engage in intercourse. It doesn't matter that it was not she that went to police, but rather the theft of my personal diaries by police that led to the charge in the first place. And it doesn't matter that the initial "crime" that had police target me in the first place was selling marijuana - something our own government will be doing in a few months.

It doesn't matter that I spent 500 days in jail for those "crimes", losing a lot of weight and gaining grey hair in the process.  It doesn't matter that my reputation was destroyed, that I lost the majority of my friends, and received the worst label anyone can be given:  "sex offender". It doesn't matter that I performed my duties under probation for three years without incident.  It doesn't matter that I quit all drugs and alcohol, that I dropped all my drug-using friends, or that I took my mother to church every Sunday morning. It does not matter that my attempt to become a productive member of society by building (using my own money, not the bank's) a restaur- ant that promoted peace, compassion, and healthy living - complete with its own library and nightly discussion and education circles - was destroyed by vigilante haters. It doesn't matter that a Facebook group was created to destroy my reputation online, and that hate posters were put up all over Stratford on several occasions.  And it doesn't matter that the only phone calls to police on July 8th came from a father and daughter who belong to this vigilante hate group out to destroy me.

No, none of this matters, Anna, because I am a "monster" - a "sex offender".

My sentence is to be determined on November 23rd - another four weeks of waiting, putting the entire time I've been under house arrest since July 8th at 21 weeks.  None of this time counts for anything.  Nor does my $10,000+ in legal fees and lost wages.  And who cares about the two front-page newspaper articles in the Beacon Herald, which painted me as a deviant creep who preys upon children in parks?  No one in the "Just-Us" system cares.  So now I face several months in jail - which will include Christmas and New Year's.

Merry Christmas, Anna!  Happy New Year! You are officially the most expensive date I ever had.

I don't say this to blame you - I'm just being sarcastic.  Obviously you had nothing to do with my decision of where to park that day, or the ambush we experienced by O'Hara.  Neither am I trying to elicit pity.  I'm just stating the facts as I see them.  Welcome to my life. It is no wonder you don't want to have anything to do with me, despite a stellar first week getting to know each other.  Not a day has gone by that I don't think about you.  Not a day goes by that I don't wish I had a time machine and could go back and park somewhere else.  We would undoubtedly be together today, and be very happy together - of this I am sure.  Instead, all I have are lonely tears in the basement of my mom's house.  I am left feeling extremely jaded and depressed.
"Time heals all wounds", they say.  It's going to take some time to heal this one - especially after another brutal experience of being locked in a cage like an animal.  At a minimum, six months of my life will have been flushed down the toilet, along with $10,000, my honour, my dignity, and my reputation.  Life can be truly unfair at times. I feel like SHIT today, but I choose not to sit in a self-pity puddle.  Life goes on.  I feel like I have no wiser choice but to leave Canada for good and never come back.  I wish I could take you with me, then it would all seem worthwhile.  But as it is, I should just say goodbye. I love you Anna.
May God bless you in this life.

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