Copyright (c) 2021

This editorial review website features, contains and includes my best recollections, hunches, beliefs, suspicions and opinions, along with numerous court records, trial transcripts and certified polygraphs



And this is NOT a page for Delicate Snowflakes.

Never heard a "bad word" in your life?

Then best you go somewhere and grow up;

If you have no experience with or

knowledge of the hard realities of war,

this page will offend your sensibilities too.


This page is about

Dart-Entities International Trucking and Perjury

Delann Lamb, Perjury

Mark McFarland, Perjury

Leigh Ann Collings Tift, Enabler of Perjury

Littler-Mendelson P.C., Seattle lawfirm, Enabler of Perjury

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Prefer a kinder, more abbreviated rendition?



NOTICE of Hack Attack:

In early November, 2021, we were notified that "someone" had begun a concerted effort to try to either get this material removed, or hidden from view. They couldn't get it removed by any legal means, but that doesn't stop some people -- even "legally trained" people who should bloody know better, but who don't. They hacked this site; that didn't work either, of course, but only made the site bigger and caused us to spread the content literally around the world. Their next attempt was to try to get it removed from view by subterfuge, by lying to Google and trying to create a case that didn't exist, which, oddly enough, is exactly what this entire series of websites is about and which it describes in minute detail. Ironic as Hell, we're sure you will agree. --Same tactics that got some people INTO this mess, have now made this mess MUCH BIGGER. We actually thought that Tall Tale to Google would succeed, but kudos to Google for seeing through it and re-posting the content. We still think Google largely sucks and is inexorably turning into Facebook, but for the time being, at least in this one instance, Google stood up and made things right. Having said that, we are still finding that we get more accurate and comprehensive results from DuckDuckGo, but who knows how long that will last in the Mercurial world of the Internet.

Actually, Farcebook tried this ten or more years ago as well and within a few months we were able to overcome it; ditto Hewlett Packard, who admitted they spent over $60,000 trying (and failing) to hide the facts of their financial shenanigans regarding our commercial printers.

We have to ask the question and it's not rhetorical:

If asinine, illegal, evil people are so terrified of their asinine, illegal, evil stunts being disseminated to the public, whatever can they do? Anyone?

Hands please?


There we go:

In the third row, second seat, what's your answer?

(Skinny, freckled seven year old girl with glasses and braces stands up beside her desk and trembles slightly). In a faltering, squeaky voice she says,

"Well, maybe, just sayin', people could, uh, you know, stop doing things that are asinine, illegal, and evil...? Maybe?"

(Looks self consciously around and sits back down quickly)(And the class cheers).

But there appear to be some "Entities" and "Legal Minds" mentioned within these pages who are simply too mentally challenged to grasp that concept. So be it. Looks like the games are on again, and now I must excuse myself because I have roughly 1500 more pages of court documents to OCR and annotate and add to this website (see the photo of the actual pile far below on this page).

Maybe these imbeciles actually believe they can get those documents, and the accompanying explanations of where they fit in the puzzle, shadow-banned as well? We can't wait to find out. They'll be busy, busy bees if they try. and the website will grow exponentially.

We've now taken and are taking steps to put this material on a wide array of servers and domains around the world, some of which will act as "fall-backs" so that if some of the data "mysteriously vanishes" on some domains on some servers, those sources will automatically kick in. Usually it takes a few weeks to a few months to repopulate the WWW indexes and search results after such an event, but make no mistake, this content isn't going away, not even in the lifetimes of the lawfirm tasked with maintaining it after my death. We'll try to get these pages translated into several major languages as well.

Who, oh who, might be so so determined to hide this data that they would begin to bombard Google with illegal obfuscation tactics and BS? Tough question (not really). Maybe it's a RACIST PLOT (too much MSNBC). In any case, the site is back on track for the time being and will be much more robustly protected in the future. Moral? Don't Quit. If you're right, Don't Quit. Don't quit even when you're dead. Ample measures have been taken to keep this data public and alive even if I'm not. That makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

These people are incapable of learning.

They really, really are.

Even snakes eventually learn to stop biting their own tails.

But reptiles are brainiacs by comparison.

Tired of Google? So were we.

DuckDuckGo, a (much) Better Search Engine


Now a Notice of a Stolen Page!

And as if all that that wasn't enough, we've just discovered one complete page, stolen from this website, who knows when, running on some woman's server in Everett, Washington State!

Talk about Balls!

Read about it here; we swear -- society is imploding.

She writes a great story detailing her own bizarre experiences with the King County Criminal Gang, aka the King County Sheriff's office, called The Auburn Police v. Suzette Fox – A War Story by Sue Fox, but Goddamnit, she isn't allowed to simply steal our content to illustrate her very justified angst about that department. That's called, uh, THEFT! And is completely actionable. But where on earth would one find competent AND ethical attorney to prosecute such a case? Best we can do is have it removed. You can't go steal pages you like! That's why they came up with that weird and wonderful thing called....wait for it....HYPERLINKS! The process of copyright infringement (theft of intellectual property) take-down notices have begun, of course, and that can take months. The longer it takes, the better our case against this woman and the higher the chances of gaining a monetary award.


Okay, let's get on with the meat and potatoes.



Dart Entities: Find out what DART can do for TO you!




aka Hitler-Mendelson


#1: Who IS Littler-Mendelson?

#2: Who IS Littler-Mendelson?

#3: Who IS Littler-Mendelson?

#4: Who IS Littler-Mendelson?

#5: Who IS Littler-Mendelson?

#6: Who IS Littler-Mendelson?

There's no end to these;
For God's sake, Google diligently
before you contract and pay

Ok, Ok, but really, who IS Littler-Mendelson?

They're a basket of snakes, and they'll bite their clients as well as their marks, because they don't know the difference and they don't bloody care. Hell, they'll bite their own damned tails just out of pure meanness.


And who IS Leigh Ann Collings Tift?



Drivers Suckers Wanted!


This editorial review website features, contains and includes my best recollections, hunches, beliefs, suspicions and opinions, along with voluminous court records, official transcripts, polygraphs, testimony and trial records


The original page from 2001 appears far down the page and is so marked.


Beyond the quest for basic food, shelter & health, I know of nothing more important to any society than how its law enforcement and judicial systems work. This website is an important glimpse into that rusty, jammed, broken mechanism and it should positively terrify any serious reader. I said terrify. This situation is the direct result of sleazy, amoral "attorneys" who grossly misuse the laws, but when they can't find or subvert a law to fit what they want to do, they'll badger and harass and harangue stupid, weak-minded legislators who will eventually dilute good laws into being bad laws. Or heck, they'll just write new bad laws, designed from the ground up to be easier to twist and contort and subvert. Welcome to "America Today". Pol Pot didn't need guns or machetes or hardwood tree trunks or cane reeds to accomplish his hideous dreams. He could have accomplished it all with a great lawfirm like Littler-Mendelson and Leigh Ann Collings Tift, Littler's own ham-fisted oaf.


Once again, who IS Littler-Mendelson P.C. "Lawfirm", Seattle, and what makes them tick?

Try this

And this

Okay, okay, one more, then it's bed time

I swear, Littler-Mendelson is straight out of a farking Grimm's Fairy Tale. And they ain't the forces of Light. Littler's behavior in many documented cases is similar to their behavior in my case. These are simply bad people. Look beyond the tip of the iceberg; we can't do all the digging for you. Is Littler-Mendelson P.C. a "good firm"? It is by several orders of magnitude the worst I have ever interacted with or read of in novels (and I beat them).


We don't feel the aka "Hitler-Mendelson" really "works" in this instance for Littler-Mendelson, but it's been out there a long time for some reason, and seems to be picking up steam. And what happened to Hitler at the very end? Refresh us, please -- oh right. Now we remember.


After all these years I have one main unanswered question: Who in THE FUCK did these people think they were dealing with? Did they really, truly believe I would be a push-over for their childish insanity? Yes. That's exactly what they believed. They mistook my kindness for weakness. That was their fatal miscalculation. This website represents one tenth of one percent of what I'd have done, had their disgusting plot to pre-emptively shut it down been successful. 1/10th of one percent. Believe it.

This editorial review website features, contains and includes my best recollections, hunches, beliefs, suspicions and opinions.

Dart International: Drivers (suckers) wanted: Call us: 323.264.1011, Email us:


Contact DART International Trucking / "Entities", Phone: (323) 981-8205, Fax: (323) 262-2218, Website:, Email:,Address 1430 S Eastman Ave, Commerce, CA 90023, USA


Littler-Mendelson P.C.


This website is NOT currently particularly "mobile friendly". The "evolution" of HTML has positively ruined the formatting of some pages. Maybe someday we'll convert it again. It was originally formatted in HTML in a day when actually reading a website with a cell phone was little more than an annoying experiment. Now, about 55% of WWW content (and climbing) comes through mobile devices.


This particular page is an editorial update in September, 2021, 20 years after this event, and 20 years after the second portion of this particular page was constructed.

Other pages were written 20 years ago as this situation was developing and hasn't been edited since except if noted.

All remaining pages in this website complex remain virtually untouched, all these years later. I honestly don't want to remember it.

Over the decades this page has become a bit of a disorganized patchwork (to say it nicely). We don't care. The content we wish to disseminate is all here. Suffer through it or not, as you wish.


Ok, here we go:

Lying Liars Lie

Ever had someone lie about you?

Of course you have.

Everyone has.

That's called "Life with Humans 101".

The putrid practice starts in preschool because parents failed at their chosen profession.

Some humans evolve and outgrow it due to social pressures (usually someone kicks their ass for doing it).

Many or most never do. Think: "Ferengi".

It may be the one thing human beings do best. It's certainly the thing they do most.

Did it tick you off? Probably.

Often enough we can just slough these things off, water from a duck's back, etc. We consider the source(s), the listener(s) consider the source(s), and usually the lies don't go far. They fizzle out like wet sparklers. It's still annoying, but it's annoying like it's annoying when a dog chases your car. Occasionally he gets his neck broken or his head crushed. Either way, it never really hurts the car. Worst case scenario, when you get home you must hose off some bloody brain matter, and the next day when you drive the same route to work, the dog per se isn't really there anymore -- but there's a shockingly flat, one dimensional mat of colored hair stuck to the pavement, and even that's gone in three weeks of road traffic, relentlessly sublimated into the atmosphere by repeated pressure and heat. Case closed.

But how about when many people lie about you? How about when they put their pointy, crusty little heads together to get their lies straight, and they make a concerted effort to ALL lie about you?

That's the point when you start to sit up and take notice, and say WTF. That's a bit beyond normal annoyance. That's the point at which it begins to foster actual anger.

Even so, maybe you still decide to just tolerate it. What are you going to do, anyway? The people who don't know you might believe it. The people who do know you will merely distance themselves from the liars because they can see it's only a matter of time and opportunity before the liars commence lying about THEM (e.g. Sears). Better to take the snakes out back BEFORE they bite you. You could take them to court. There are laws for slander and defamation. Yeah, right. Climb right on into the bucket with the snakes and see what that gets you. You'll learn much.

But you're still angry, yes, and you'll put forth some amount of effort to counteract the lies and set the record straight, but you'll never be 100% successful. It's still just called "Life with Humans".

So what if that group of liars -- let's say there are five of them just for argument's sake -- actually go to a lawfirm and convince a gullible, greedy, nasty, stupid, incompetent, perhaps even mentally "slow" and trouble-loving attorney (is there any other kind?) that they want to take those lies and do something really concrete with them, and that attorney, without even once checking for facts (I did suggest she was "slow"), says Okidokie!, and she files a legal action and the games are on.

You must go defend yourself in court, in public.

It's beyond annoying. It's beyond merely angering. It's now flat-out unmitigated rage -- and that's a kind word -- the kind of rage where really, really bad things can happen. You know you're confronting evil. It's all-out war to survive, and evil often wins unless good is very, very careful and a bit lucky too (from Doctor McCoy, Star-trek, during the creepy episode when Spock was fighting valiantly to get laid).

When I was initially served with the notice of McFarland's and Lamb's no-contact order I glanced through it and chuckled. THEY were asking the court to prevent ME from contacting THEM. It was humorous because it was ME who had quit in disgust, after twice being begged to stay on, due to their illegal drug use, theft of company materials and services, gross cheating on expense accounts, interoffice sex, illogic, gross incompetence, dishonesty, really rank racism, horrible treatment of clients (Sears), to name but a small handful of issues out of the entire crate. It was ME Delann Lamb was naming when she advised any employee who might have influenced my quitting that they would be terminated. And it was ME who refused to go visit them after I quit, when they asked me to, and it was ME who had filed a Seattle criminal harassment complaint against Delann Lamb for crank-calling me after I refused to go visit her, and it was ME she had emailed saying she wished I liked her(!). Yet THEY were demanding a court order to prevent ME from contacting THEM? It was all quite rich. I tossed it in a drawer and silently told them to knock themselves out. I had no intention of responding.

But a few days later someone suggested I should read it all the way through, so I did, and I was stunned to see that what they were REALLY attempting to do was to obtain a court order that prevented me from posting any website about them, ever -- that had not yet been written, nor posted, and which might never be! They were trying to preemptively strip me of my First Amendment Civil Rights. Of course such a thing is patently, expressly illegal and is eminently actionable. Yet Leigh Ann Collings Tift of Littler-Meddlesom (Mendelson), who SHOULD HAVE learned this in Third Grade law-school, was charging full speed ahead, like a great shitting buffalo in the proverbial China shop, on something so outrageously unlawful that a fucking mentally handicapped crocodile could have figured it out. THAT is what lit my proverbial fuse. To be silenced before I even speak? Ain't gonna happen.

They couldn't obtain a straight-out court order to prevent me from writing about them online, so they had to tie it to some other activity, like harassment from me, and that's when they had to lie and lie and lie and lie and lie....probably more than any other people I've ever witnessed lying in my life, because absolutely no harassment had ever occurred, nor would it, and they knew that. But they needed that court order to try to hide their activities from Dart-Entities, so they just lied to try to get it. Read this entire website. Read my polygraphs. Read their reaction to my offer to not only pay for THEIR polygraphs and to post them publicly free of charge, but to also pay each of them $5000 cash (!) for passing said polygraphs. What did they have to lose? -- Except to be exposed as the serial liars that they were. And now they're exposed. Great job, team!

This was such a jaw-droppingly simple issue that I didn't even take an attorney to the hearing. Any moron, and I mean ANY moron of a judge, should have and would have seen through this nonsense in six minutes flat and thrown these outrageous yipping jackals out of their courtroom. But I was unlucky, and stupid -- stupid because I didn't take a snake (lawyer) to go up against a snake (lawyer). Silly me, I thought reason and truth and logic would reign. I had worked in Federal Narcotics for years for Christ's sake. I knew how "things" worked! But I was STILL so stupid that I never believed incompetence and bias and dishonesty could ever, ever penetrate into such a dog-simple proceeding. I was wrong. Silly, stupid me. What an idiot. I'd been around the world by that time in my life and I'd seen real corruption (and I quit law enforcement because of it), but I didn't think the United States had devolved into chaos to the point it had. Now, of course, it's a hundred times worse -- which is why I refuse to live there.

The hearing drew a part-time political appointee judge who was, probably, actually, provably, clinically mentally handicapped. He was just that stupid. I can't really recall encountering a dumber human being that was out and loose without a keeper. Damn, how I wish he was alive.

And Dart had chosen a Littler-Mendelson attorney who cared less than one microscopic whit about right or wrong or facts or law, honor, decency or manners or professionalism. She was in it to win and she didn't care how she did it or how many innocent, decent people she trundled under to accomplish her dreams. Hell, she didn't even care WHY she did it!, except that she was psychologically compelled to try to push others around, and because Dart represented potential big bucks to her and she thought she would have mountains of sweet Mountain Bar (local reference - Google them) Kudos heaped upon her for "doing good" for this firm (Dart) and winning future business. Like a murderous terrorist bomber (Pol Pot, anyone?)(bin Laden anyone?) returning home to their pack of like-minded demon-spawn, I think Tift envisioned herself in a flowing lavender Cinderella gown, perched atop some brilliantly colorful parade float, being swooshed down the inner-office avenues back at Littler-Mendelson, the radiant heroine of the day. And for a short time, she was! Lies? What lies? Oh -- THOSE lies. No matter; that guy (me) would never, ever come back to refute a few (or a thousand) LIES. He's a little mouse; we can cook him and eat him for breakfast and what's he gonna do?

Imagine their surprise.


Liars Mo'.

That's what this website describes -- the liars at Dart-Entities (Dart International Trucking), and the lie-enablers at Littler-Mendelson (Leigh Ann Collings Tift), and a judge, the dead political appointee part-time pro-tem John Lawson who probably didn't know what fucking state he was in or if the Moon was really made of cheese (Joe Biden, anyone?). That's what this website describes.

How did it turn out?

Polygraphs aren't admissible in court unless both parties agree (fat chance of that) and the judge accepts it (fat chance of that).

But polygraphs are sure as fuck admissible as public documents, and you'll find them all right here.

And what about people who have been publicly called liars (Delann Todd Lamb and Mark S. McFarland) and who are offered, in writing, contractually, free polygraphs plus $5000 each for taking them if they pass, but who refuse? They flat-out refuse. Leigh Ann Collings Tift, their "attorney", says "that doesn't mean they aren't telling the truth".

Uh, yes, yes it does, Ms. "attorney" Tift. That's what it means. Try, try, please, we beg you, try hard to grow one more brain cell so the other two will have someone to play with.

This website details the stunning, jaw-dropping and thoroughly dishonorable efforts by Dart International Trucking (Dart-Entities) and Leigh Ann Collings Tift of Littler-Mendelson "lawfirm" (Seattle) to stop this website, or ANY website written or posted by me, BEFORE IT WAS WRITTEN(!), that showed, depicted, detailed, expressed opinions of or proved Dart's unspeakably demented behavior over three years before I quit driving for them in profound disgust. They tried to obtain a court order (four of them, actually) to stop a website from being written before it was written. And they lied again and again and again and again to try to accomplish that.

Think about that. Try to grasp the black, tarry, unholy stench of that. Try to extrapolate the ramifications for mankind had they been successful. Only communist and dictatorial states do that. Like China.

Yes, they failed.

But let's say, just for the sake of argument, that they had succeeded, and the first appeals judge had upheld that order, and the next appeals judge had upheld that order, and the next one on up the ladder had upheld the order, etc. etc., I would have taken it all the way to the Supreme court and I would have won there. It's actually unfortunate it didn't go that far because that would have produced the kind of publicity this website deserves.

The first appeals judge overturned the idiot part-time pro-tem POLITICAL APPOINTEE "judge" John Lawson and I didn't have to go any further.

But let's say that I had gone all the way to the Supreme court and lost. Would this page still exist and be publicly available?



Because I would have forfeit all copyrights and submitted all pages to the Public Domain for anyone to copy and post for themselves, forever, and Dart and Tift and Littler-Mendelson could have spent the next thousand years trying to sue each and every poster. What a grand game of whack-a-mole, but isn't that their very business model anyway?

I might have gone to jail for doing that, and then the networks would have picked it up, and the snowball would have started rolling in earnest, and the eventual website would have gotten only larger and larger until it was the size of the Goodyear Blimp, making endless rounds across the country and around the world. Ever eaten whale blubber? Don't. The Inuits like it (they don't love it), but what I found was that the tiniest bite (lump)(i.e. disgusting rubbery ball) had a tendency to bloat up bigger and bigger and bigger the more you chewed it, until you couldn't swallow it if you wanted to, but you didn't want to anyway. That's what would have happened to this website. The more these lying sons of bitches chewed on this, the bigger it would have become. Maybe they'd STILL like it larger?.

Truth runs marathons; Lies run sprints.

How do you chase away a cockroach?


Incidentally, I filed the appeal to this insanity perfectly and meticulously correctly in every detail (Helen L. Halpert, appellate judge). Yet when I submitted the appeal documents, Littler-Mendelson's minion came to court to try to contest even the filing of it. She nitpicked it to absolute near-death by claiming everything she could possibly make-up and invent that was wrong with the forms and documents, thereby making the appeal invalid. She should have been a writer of cheap fiction. Fortunately THAT judge, not Lawson the Fool, presided over that administrative hearing and struck down her objections one after another, like you'd swat away flies. She objected to entries in fields that were 101% CORRECT. She objected to check boxes checked or not checked -- yet all were checked properly. She asked again and again that the appeal be denied. I remember him (the judge) looking at her oddly, as if to ask, Lady, what in THE HELL do you think you're accomplishing here except to make a fool of yourself and your firm? He declared the submission 100% flawless and the new game was on.

But you have to ask yourself, why pick at something like that on technicalities? Why? Because she's a LAWYER (four letters in that? Yes, four letters). She cared, and Littler cared, NOT ONE SPECK for the right or wrong of any situation or case or ideal. They cared only if they could WIN, even if it was morally and legally wrong and anti-social to win -- they wanted to see if they could trick and "get over" on the court.

I loved the cheesy old Bob Newhart analogies -- here's one:

Mary hires John to remodel her kitchen.

John shows up and works for two weeks and creates the kitchen Mary always dreamed of.

At the conclusion of the work, John asks to be paid the agreed-upon amount.

Mary says no way, she won't pay.

John asks if there's something wrong with the work?

Mary says no, not at all, it's perfect in every way. But I won't pay.

John asks if the colors are wrong?

Mary says no, of course not, those are the colors I picked up and you applied them exactly as I asked.

John asks if Mary is short on cash?

Mary is offended and says no, I have millions in the bank and your price was very fair.

John then throws up his hands and asks her why she won't pay.

Mary says, See you in court.

John files the case and Mary shows up.

The judge asks Mary why she won't pay. Mary shrugs and says, "Because I don't want to."

The judge asks again, this time admonishing Mary that if she doesn't provide a valid reason for not paying John, he will award the case in John's favor and John's recourse then will be to forcibly remove those funds from Mary's fat and vast account(s) or to physically take her property and sell it for the amount he is owed.

Finally Mary relents, and says she won't pay because on one occasion during the two weeks of work, John drove a blue pickup to her home and parked it out on the street.

Now the judge, and John, know exactly what they're dealing with, but they must go through the motions anyway.

Judge asks Mary if there was a clause in the contract that prohibited John from driving a blue pickup to the job site.

Mary admits, no.

Judge asks, Anything else?

Mary says yes: On one occasion, John wore a long-sleeve shirt while he worked on the cabinets, painting.

Judge asks if there was a clause in the contract to prohibit that?

Mary shrugs and says no. John was painting and didn't want the paint to go onto his skin. But I won't pay.

This series of insanity-moments is repeated eleven times until the judge finally believes he has explored the case thoroughly enough to document it well and to render a decision; He decides in favor of John and also awards him attorney's fees and time lost from work.

Mary says fine, she won't pay.

John then goes through a few more steps and removes the money from Mary's account.

Mary then sues him for bank fraud and loses, and now must pay court costs and fines for a frivolous filing.

John then creates a website to document Mary's insane BS and to warn other honest contractors about the incident.

Mary then tries to sue John for the website but no attorney will take the case because it's clearly constitutionally protected speech and is monitored by a First Amendment attorney already.

Mary then hacks the website, but John swats away the hack in under a week and reposts the content.

Mary then makes up lies and presents them to Google, demanding that Google take down the website from its index.

Google says, ok, we'll take it down temporarily while we investigate the content of the pages.

Mary thinks she has won.

The following week, Google announces the pages are completely within the spectrum of acceptable speech and re-indexes the site, and the site then ranks even higher in the results index.

Mary is apoplectic, and goes home to think long and hard about what outrageous, stupid, counter-productive stunt she can pull next. Sanity is not Mary's strong-suit.

A month later Mary decides to ______________________..

This is exactly, precisely what it was like in court filing my appeal, and after. Littler-Mendelson was right there at the appeal, trying-out every single stupid, bass-ackwards tactic they could even remotely dream up, to get the appeal stopped. They never once claimed the appeal had no merit, or that they were positive they were correct, legally, or even morally. They KNEW they weren't. BUT THEY DIDN'T CARE.

THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the VERY ESSENCE OF LITTLER-MENDELSON P.C. and Leigh Ann Collings Tift. This is the cloth they're cut from; this is the matrix that animates them; this is a glimpse into their heart of hearts. THEY. DON'T. CARE. Imagine an entire society comprised of imbeciles who Just. Don't. Care. Imagine an entire society of snakes.

Read it again and let it sink in: THEY. DIDN'T. CARE.

Now, you ask me and many others, Who is Littler Mendelson?

And en masse we answer: THIS.

I try to imagine living in a family populated by people who DO. NOT. CARE. ABOUT. ANYTHING. AT. ALL.

Let's say a sister, named "Leigh Ann" by bizarre coincidence, decides she wishes SHE was the owner of her Mother's car. Leigh Ann then sneaks into Mom's room and steals the title and forges Mom's signature and takes it to the DMV and invents a Bill of Sale and transfers the title to her name as legal and registered owner. On the way home she stops and gets the ignition and door locks changed. Once home, Mom asks where Leigh Ann went in her car? Leigh Ann says, "Fuck You. I went where I wanted to go." Mom is miffed, but has to rush out to take Dad to his weekly chemo treatment. She finds the car door locked. Leigh Ann goes out and unlocks the door, smirking. Mom tries to start the car but her key doesn't fit. Leigh Ann laughs out loud. Mom asks what the heck? Leigh Ann shows her the new registration listing Leigh Ann as the legal owner. Mom is aghast! She asks how, why? Leigh Ann laughs all the harder and tells her to get out of the car or she will call the police and report an attempted theft. Mom is speechless. She numbly gets out. Leigh Ann opens the back door and shoves Dad out onto the gravel driveway. "Don't try it again!" Leigh Ann cackles, and she spins wheels out of the driveway to go meet with people she thinks are her "real" friends. And God knows, if they work at Littler-Mendelson P.C., or almost any other "lawfirm", maybe they really, really are!

Of course Mom calls the police to report what happened. The police tell her to come in and make a report in person. Mom counters she doesn't have a car. Police say, oh, well, we're pretty busy anyway -- there's a huge Antifa demonstration this afternoon and we must be absolutely sure their rights are fully protected. We really don't have time for domestic disputes. You can send us a letter? Mom does send in a written complaint, which the police throw in the trash. Mom then hires an attorney, who says it will take about eight months and 85% of the value of the car to get it into court, but the Mom goes through the motions and does it anyway. The judge rules that the Mom must have been drunk and signed over the car to Leigh Ann and just doesn't remember it. Case closed. Mom then appeals it, but Littler-Mendelson represents the accused (sweet daughter Leigh Ann) and manages to find an undotted "i" in the appeals form and gets the appeal denied. Mom tries to re-file but is told the deadline has passed. So sorry. And the Leigh Anns of the world laugh all the harder.

Does this analogy sound too far fetched to even fit as entertainment in a Littler-Mendelson Sucks site?

It is. But it isn't.

This is the exact, precise, unexaggerated level of NOT CARING about truth or right or wrong or morality or decency or society itself that Littler-Mendelson exhibited during their insane attempts to prevent my appeal from even being filed. They were snakes in that courtroom, and we're betting they're snakes in their own homes and families and friendships and lives. A snake is a snake. Snakes DON'T. CARE. The environment, application, circumstances don't matter. Oh wait -- a snake usually doesn't EAT IT'S OWN. (Unless it's hungry).

Pol Pot didn't care.

Littler Mendelson didn't care.

It's only a matter of degrees.


By the way, all pages and images contained in these page ARE strictly copyrighted with ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, and yes, we would instantly sue you for copyright infringement. We're just a little fucking tired of thieves and scumbags at this stage.


Copyright (c) 2021

This editorial review website features, contains

and includes my best recollections, hunches,

beliefs, suspicions and opinions, along with

numerous court records, trial transcripts

and certified polygraphs


Here you can learn about:

Criminal Perjury by T-L Leasing, Dart International, Bad Truck Driving Jobs, Bad Companies, Bad Bosses, Bad employers, Bad law firms, Bad "attorneys", Bad judges, Dart-Entities Trucking, Dart-Entities, Illegal Drugs, Dart Corruption and lies, Delann Todd Lamb, Perjury, Mark Steven McFarland, Mark S McFarland, Perjury, Leigh Ann Collings Tift: Littler's Ham-Fisted Oaf, Ms. Leigh Ann C. Tift, Littler Global, Littler-Mendelson, aka Littler-Meddlesom, aka Littler-Meddlesome, aka Littler-Mental-Some, aka Hitler-Mendelson, Seattle, Washington, Los Angeles, California, Kent, Washington, Crack Whores, Commerce, California, Corona, California, NW Dispatch, Northwest Dispatch, Dart Transportation, Freight Service, Dart Logistics, Seattle Lawfirm, Paul Martin, "President of Dart Entities", Paul Martin Dead?, G. Paul Martin, Paul G. Martin, Deceased/Obituary, Adolescent Adults, 13 Year Old Punks, Colleen Butler: "Director Chaos", Judge John Lawson: DEAD DOORNAIL, Aukeen Court - Kent, King Country Sheriff: A criminal gang, Polygraphs, Exams, Lie Detector Tests, Truck drivers wanted!

We're great to work for! Sez Dart-Entities

Dart-Entities Sucks, Dart Trucking Sucks, Littler-Mendelson Sucks, Delann T Lamb Sucks, Mark S McFarland Sucks, Colleen Butler Sucks, Leigh Ann Tift Sucks, Paul Martin Sucks, And Pol Pot sucks too!



This page is approved and monitored by our US First Amendment Attorney

If you've been to court in the past twenty years you probably already know it's a crap-shoot. You might as well roll the dice as go to court. Due to staggering incompetence, dishonesty, and downright stupidity on the part of judges and attorneys, our legal system simply does not work. The necessary laws have been drafted and are in place, but a system of laws is worthless if administered by a gang of chimpanzees. Everyone who's been to court knows this. It's difficult, however, to get hard, cold evidence of just how screwed up the system is. We have a piece of that evidence which pretty-well tells the story. It's only one piece among many billions of pieces, but it is indicative of just how screwy our government has become. Did you know that, according to Washington State Governor Gary Locke's office, perjury is not a crime in Washington state? In fact, according to their words, it is not even a matter worthy of a law enforcement investigation. Read More


UPDATE, September 23, 2021:


IMPORTANT NOTICE regarding the president of Dart International Trucking:

The "President" of Dart International Trucking, at the time of this travesty in 2001, Paul Martin, probably Paul G. Martin or G. Paul Martin, and the man who showed up at my anti-harassment hearing unannounced, demanding a protection order against me but not knowing why he wanted one or why he deserved one and who was summarily dismissed in four minutes or so for his trouble, may be dead of Acute Myeloid Leukemia. There is a Paul G. Martin in the obituaries, listed as the President of Dart until around 2006 and deceased as of January 2007. We believe this is probably the asshole.


Excerpt from the official obit:

"G. Paul Martin

...Then, in 1987, he joined Dart

International as Vice President,

and later as President, where he

worked for more than 19 years.

From 1998 onward, he was a

resident of Claremont, Ca."


We regret that this updated website did not post until well after his death; we prefer he'd read it again and again, like we prefer Lawson had lived to read it. Martin did read the ORIGINAL website here, many, many times, as did many others at Dart-Entities way back in 2001 and onward (we tracked the visiting IP addresses to known Dart and Littler IPs).


Paul Martin of Dart-Entities took a crack at ruining my life. He failed. But he tried and, like Leigh Ann Collings Tift of Littler Mendelson who also tried, he was an obnoxious, embarrassing smart ass punk about it.

Now he's dead and I have mixed feelings about that. I didn't want him dead so soon.

Were the actions of all these dweebs evil?


Here's a brief study of evil and how it's treated after it dies:

When someone DIES, the "Christian Way" is for people who knew them to make complete fools of themselves and SWEAR the deceased was God's gift to humanity, even when they know they weren't. Given that tradition, one might expect us to at least clean up our thoughts and insults to the man in this text.


Because he's dead?

Does that automatically somehow erase his sins? --Excuse him from trying his best to ruin a life for absolutely no valid reason? Apparently just for something to do?? When someone dies, does that mean they DIDN'T DO WHAT THEY DID? If they murdered 30 people, and then THEY die later, does that mean that all those people magically come back to life, reanimated right where they left off? If they burned down fifty buildings, and then they die later, does that mean those buildings all magically reconstitute themselves on those vacant black-cinder lots because the pyro is dead?

No, it doesn't mean that at all. It means merely that they won't be doing that bullshit any longer, and that's a good thing for society.

Martin didn't accomplish much in this demented escapade, really, except to make a fool of himself and embarrass his company and waste his company's money and waste the government's time and piss me off. So that means he and the rest of his rat-pack, law-breaking, co-conspirators oughta get off, right? No. It's the outrageous intent that enrages me and anyone who reads about it. The intent is very, very nearly as bad as the deed.

Martin was a rank fucking asshole and that's all he ever deserves to be called by us. I don't CARE if he did some other good deeds in his life; the fact remains that he did THESE DEEDS in his life and dying doesn't get him off the hook for them. Doing good things (if indeed he ever did) doesn't erase bad things. Our assessment of him all through this website STANDS.

Fuck Paul Martin.

Here's a crazy Paul Martin (and John Lawson) Bob-Newhart-style analogy that isn't so crazy after all. Why? Because of a Super-Asshole named Polpot (Pol Pot)(kind of like a Super-Hero but in reverse). I want the reader to understand that real evil really exists, because an awful lot of folks don't grasp the truth of that and make far and vastly too many excuses for society's write-offs and butt-plugs. The thing is, Pol Pot wasn't born having already killed a million babies -- he had to work up to it. There were times in his earlier life when he seemed perfectly normal and had friends and a life -- just like Paul Martin did. But there was a random, rotting seed in his faulty brain and as it developed and matured AND NO ONE CLIPPED IT, Pol Pot turned into a monster -- which is, I believe, the very same direction all of the shitholes in this story were headed, right down the same path, and, left unchecked, unchallenged and to their own devices, God only knows how much more misery they would have heaped upon the world. THAT is the point of this Pol Pot tale. Yes, Pol Pot was, to me, the worst, but there are varying degrees of worse.

I took a special hatred to the demon detailed below, a real world-class psycho case, self-named Pol Pot, in the early 1970s because I knew the Cambodian (Kumboosha or Kampuchea) Khmer and the atrocities that Polpot was committing against them were eleven thousand orders of magnitude beyond anything any human should tolerate and I was desperate to go back there and kill the man with my own bare hands. Unfortunately, the US government wouldn't let us go and stop this man (because they were "ticked" at Cambodia). Great decision, USA, as usual. Stupid is as Stupid Does. Collectively, we could have stomped Pol Pot's teeth out in a week and saved millions of quite good people. But the USA was annoyed over silly, anal-retentive disagreements with Cambodia from years before in the Vietnam War (called the "American War", there), and wouldn't go to Kumboosha even when millions were being literally slaughtered. That in and of itself is a mind-boggler but that's another story.

Pol Pot of the Khmer Rouge, Cambodia (circa 1974) and Paul Martin of Dart-Entities in Los Angeles (circa 2001) -- are two completely different people, whose accomplishments were light-years apart. Yes, the deeds they accomplished are in categories of badness two or four Universes detached, but the same wiry thread of evil intent in both of them, and in Tift and McFarland and Lamb and all other human forces of mindless destruction across the globe as well, for that matter, stems from the same innate meanness and pure and utter disregard for the basic rights of others. They're psychopaths, missing a part of their pre-frontal cortex; they are rudderless torpedoes, pushed forward and onward only by a deep-seated, in-born passion to cause harm. I saw a glimpse of that innate meanness in Dart's President, Paul Martin, and in Colleen Butler (Director Chaos) and in Tift and Lamb and Sarah and McFarland and --- I was going to say Lawson, but it's possible Lawson was just terminally fucking stupid. I've seldom stumbled across a dumber man.

All the players in this are (or were) Spoiled Rotten Brats.

Pol Pot used guns and mechanical weapons and instruments to COMMAND. To "COMMAND" is what got him off. Guns cause external bleeding.

Martin, conversely, used a twisted version of what he hoped was "The Law" to try to COMMAND. To "COMMAND" is what got him off.

The Law, used improperly, as it very nearly always is with the assistance of sleazy lawyers (Tift), causes internal bleeding -- of the soul and the heart and the mind, and it totally disconnects the people from the government, when the two should be working hand in hand.

I should have gone back anyway, to target Pol Pot in the mid seventies. Lots of us wanted to. And that I didn't is a big Black Sharpie X on my immortal soul, along with a few other things. Yes, Pol Pot's army would have taken me out long before I even got close to the "entity", probably, but it would have been a worthy goal and fun to try and an honorable end if that's how it turned out. This guy figures heavily in my list of life's regrets and always will. I think about him more than I should, which is only natural since I work and spend most of my time exactly where this all occurred and the reminders are there on every block and in too many fields and still in the eyes and demeanors of the older folks, and there's not a man, woman or child today who wasn't and isn't impacted by it, whether they know it or not, and who doesn't either remember it well or didn't lose someone to Pol Pot, and I hope to go someday to Hell and have a discussion with him, but of course the queue will be long. It's hard to go a day in the southern regions without the black-hole-starkness of this eclipsing your life and your thoughts.

I've walked his killing fields repeatedly and extensively over the decades and cried. If you don't, you're soulless and some people are. American Millennials and other Punks would probably go there and laugh. Far worse than this silly analogy below (killing seven babies) actually happened in real life -- that's one realization I want the reader to grasp. This event in history is kind of my baseline for measuring evil in the world. Yes, worse things have transpired throughout the history of mankind, but very few on this scale, and few so recent or in-your-face. Oh, you failed basic high school history so you have no clue what any of this is about? Then you can't relate. To anything.

I have a hole in an old Converse tennis shoe where a broken rib bone of one of the babies, still dressed in a torn, raggedy, chartreuse polyester garment from about 1978, poked up through the ground after a heavy rain, as if reaching out to me in agony, and I stepped on it, and that's an absolute fact. I still have the shoes. I think I'll wear them tomorrow. It'll be some kind of weird, twisted tribute to a child who might have grown up to marry my daughter. Or cure cancer. --If only not for bad people with a driving need to COMMAND.

Up to 3 million innocent, everyday people were murdered -- probably really only 1.5-2 mil but some accounts say 3 (some even say 5), or at least a fifth or a quarter of the population of the entire Kingdom (imagine the hole in the fabric of society if 25% of the US population were disappeared almost overnight, then found to have been brutally murdered in some fields).

Pol Pot's insane army didn't kill many or most of the babies with machetes, because the Khmer army essentially ran out of machetes, so they started using cane reeds that were beyond razor sharp and slightly serrated to slit the throats of those innocent, starving civilians who could walk and still had the strength to do so. Those were sliced assembly-line style, then marched into mass graves with some of the babies that they desperately held onto, even as mother and child both bled to death as they walked (where I got the bone through my shoe).

Make no mistake: Bad people who go through life unchecked only get worse.

Let's not hold back here. Let's take a look straight into the face of pure evil and see what it looks like in the light of day. And when you visualize these events, and you will, in your own way and through your own filters, it's imperative that you remember that Pol Pot was once just a seemingly normal guy, merrily cavorting around American University campuses and bitching about the state of the world like everybody else. Like Paul G. Martin. But Pol Pot was giving off signals even then, like Martin was in Kent-Aukeen court, way back there in 2001. The shorts in Pol Pot's brain were sparking off, and he was becoming pushy, arrogant, and obnoxious. --Like Paul G. Martin and the rest of these worthless fucks. Pity no one took notice way back when.

The throats of those old enough to walk were cut, and they immediately began spurting arterial blood, which they immediately tried to stop or slow with their hands or garments. The blood pressure might be partially maintained for a bit in this way, especially if you put a lot of pressure on the wound, so you won't go unconscious immediately. The horror has time to settle in. Then the walkers were commanded and prodded to stumble a short distance in the dark to where all the other spurting forms lay sprawled and dead, or dying and begging for mercy in agonized Khmer, if their windpipes hadn't been slashed too. If the cut to the carotid wasn't too deep (in other words, just right), the walking dead might make it a hundred meters before becoming too weak to continue, and they dropped into the slippery, writhing piles of still-moaning humanity, there in the black of night, right where they were supposed to drop. They kept walking ON COMMAND because if they didn't they were shot and that meant instant death, but out there in the darkness was in any case AWAY from the killers, and who knew? Maybe there was survival out there too? One does what one can.

The weird thing was, the victims far outnumbered the soldiers and would have stood a fair chance of overcoming them by brute force and escaping and living had they felt sufficient rage and managed to organize. This website manages sufficient rage to write itself, and my appeal of the Dart anti-harassment orders was evidence of my organization. Two different worlds -- same basic intent: COMMAND AND CONTROL.

They still might live for an hour, or many hours after they collapsed onto one another in the fields, because it can take time to bleed completely to death if the soldier was a bit too timid in his slash. I lost 38% of my blood once (the jungle doctors estimated 60% but I think that would have been impossible so I've estimated it) -- I am intimately aware of the sensations of bleeding to death. If the cuts were too deep and also opened the trachea, then the hot blood from the spewing carotid would find its way into the windpipe and the dying screams and cries of the others would be mixed with raspy hissing gurgles and gagging of those.

Fortunately, bleeding to death isn't the worst way to go. I drowned once as a commercial diver too; that was worse. That really, really sucked. Bleeding to death mostly entails just getting weaker, and weaker. Eventually you don't even have the strength to breathe. You'd like to breathe, but it's just too much trouble. You can't get warm no matter what you do and you know in your thudding heart you will never be warm again. You feel the cold of the grave enveloping you -- the eternal cold of the ground, six feet down. You feel dizzy, and you have a headache, and the horror of what's happening sometimes sends a jolt of adrenalin coursing through your veins which only makes the blood loss more rapid and deadly. You might feel tingly. Your head will spin if you even try to lift an arm to swat the flies from your eyes. You're thinking, "If a viper comes to bite me, let him." You might feel a vibration -- I figured about 50 cycles. You will feel the chill all the way through your bones. You might see things. You might mumble but not be aware of it until you hear what at first you take for someone else's voice. You dream fever dreams if you dream at all. You know you must do something, you're frantic to do something, but you don't know what to do and you don't have the strength to do anything anyway. And then you sleep and then you die.

I froze to death once too near the Arctic Circle. I fell through the ice covering the sea. Got out. Walked a ways in the snow. Then decided to take a nap. Bleeding to death was a lot like that. Freezing to death is really not so bad. There's an unpleasant window of nasty shivering -- then it's really not so bad!

The crying, sobbing and raspy hissing and gurgling of the dying masses was an annoying racket -- hard to keep killing efficiently while the dying were so rudely calling out and annoying you -- hard to keep your mind on the quota of your shift -- so banks of loudspeakers were brought in to blast ludicrous musical selections all through the nights -- remember this went on for years for Christ's sake. The mornings were usually quiet, but no matter if some lingered and whimpered softly -- the equatorial sun -- and the birds -- and the snakes -- would finish them off before the next batch that night. Apocalypse Now indeed -- that movie had nothing on reality and was a pale shadow of the real horrors committed by bad people with evil intent. Cute movie. Hardly penetrated to the nerve center though.

But after a while of the hard work of killing, killing and more killing, the hot and thirsty soldiers (term used loosely here) were too lazy to go cut the reeds because you could only kill a handful of folks before you had to go get more reeds, and besides, the reeds were truly the sharpest damned things you'll ever encounter on earth and one might accidentally nick a finger while slitting thousands of throats. Reeds indeed. One bullet per customer was prohibitively expensive to a struggling new regime. There HAD to be a better way.

Babies were small, and lightweight, and they soon learned that they didn't need a machete OR an expensive bullet OR an annoying, dangerous reed for the little people. Choking them to death with bare hands took way too long and was exhausting -- you can't just choke an enemy until they stop breathing and then announce the job well done because the minute you let up, they're bound to pop back to life. You have to choke and choke and choke, all the while listening for the heart to stop. Even then, after all is quiet, if you stop for a moment to flex your aching hands, those turkeys can still come back to life. No, you must choke until the heart stops, and then hold it, say, another minute at least, to be sure. Two is better if you're not in an active battle under imminent threat of attack. Pol Pot had millions to murder; no time for silliness like that for God's sake. Four minutes to kill one baby? Absurd waste of time, and Pol Pot was all about efficiency.

And so they just swung the babies and smaller children by their feet until their heads contacted a big hardwood tree and that was that. Thunk-Splat. You can't be wasting rice on so many non-workers, after all, and you've already murdered all their parents and families and you're tired of babysitting. Numerous trees were used in various regions, but one became famous and it's accessible. Go put your hand on it and close your eyes for a few moments and see what happens. It's reverently quiet there -- whispers only and occasionally a snuffle or muted sob. No one will bother you. Everyone else is crying too so don't be self conscious. And if you feel nothing at all, maybe you're just the coolest cucumber on earth, and maybe your name is Leigh Ann Collings Tift.

Maybe, forehead resting against the almost concrete hardness at the trunk of that tree, hands held firmly against its smooth flanks, asking it to speak to you...if it'll begin to feel the rage rising within you, because that's the sap that runs in those trees now -- the rage against stupid, vicious, controlling, commanding, putrid, evil Goddamned Mutherfucking air-headed anti-social so-called humans who tell you it's their way or be ruined. Or die. Maybe you'll find yourself starting to say, quietly at first, uh, no, no, that's NOT the way it's going to be, and maybe eventually you start finding the strength and the passion to PUSH BACK against assholes and jackasses and demons of all kinds and stripes no matter what fucking rock you find them under or from what dark place they spring and come at you for no reason at all. Maybe, out in those blood-drenched, sun-baked killing fields, Pol Pot's insanity, as told to you by the trees, will teach you those things and help you form for yourself, maybe for the first time, a real moral code that makes sense and which ultimately will help society survive and thrive, instead of to suffer the seemingly eternal tailspin it appears to be in now, much at the hands of lawyers and their ilk. And if you don't learn those things, then it's the Pol Pots of the world that you naively forgive and embolden and inspire to endless reenactments. Every people has the government it deserves.

Ah, but why didn't the Khmer population rise up and fight these assholes back in the early days, before they even got to the killing fields, before they were even yanked from their offices and homes in Phnom Penh? Why? Why? Why? They barely lifted a finger and were led off, herded off to be enslaved and slaughtered by the millions. So why, oh why, didn't they resist, really, at all? For God's sake, the populated areas in the south were emptied of every single resident, the towns were deserted like some Sci-Fi virus movie, buildings dark and silent, streets EMPTY, lights extinguished, electricity turned off city-wide, all peaceful working residents transported to the fields en masse. Doctors, lawyers, journalists, librarians and professionals of every kind went first because they were considered "the worst of humanity" by Pol Pot's KR (well, maybe we can understand the lawyers thing, after all). All property was taken by the "army" and traded or sold for arms. It was light years beyond any Hell my meager skills can describe. Why, Sweet Jesus, didn't ANYONE do ANYTHING!?


Because the people didn't have guns. The government had quietly taken them all away....for their safety.

Take a deep breath and slow your heart now. The worst is mostly over.




Here's a brief excerpt from the New York Times:


Beginning on the day in 1975 when his guerrilla army marched

silently into the capital, Phnom Penh, Pol Pot emptied the cities,

pulled families apart,abolished religion and closed schools.

Everyone was ordered to work, even children. The Khmer

Rouge outlawed money and closed all markets. Doctors

were killed, as were most people with skills and education

that threatened the regime.



Point is this:

Out in the real world, "people" do infinitely worse things than killing only seven babies with machetes. But still, evil is evil.

Remember the old Monte Python movie, "Time Bandits"? Remember "Concentrated Evil"? Concentrated Evil is real. I had always known there were "bad" people and really bad people. But until Pol Pot, I never considered nor completely grasped that there were actual un-humans drifting among us with nothing but Concentrated Evil coursing through their black veins instead of red blood, utterly beyond redemption because there was no good in them whatsoever -- not even one molecule. Now I understand there are plenty of those types and most importantly, there are plenty of those types in the making.

No, Paul Martin was no baby killer -- below is only a gruesome analogy for Christ's sake -- get a grip.

And he didn't qualify as "Concentrated Evil". He was just "some kind" of evil to do the things he did and to have tried to do the things he failed to accomplish and to have had no meaningful remorse whatsoever, like the psychopath missing the pre-frontal cortex. Paul Martin was a stupid, adolescent jackass who might have become worse if left unchecked, and the same goes for his right-hand man, Colleen Butler, stupid, blind, fool extraordinaire.

Polpot, by the way, lived out his life on the Thai-Kumboosha border after Communist Vietnam ran those jerks to ground up there. Being chased north by Viet forces (Viet Cong, essentially), he tried to move into Thailand and try his luck with the exact same bullshit, but the Thais fucking stopped him. I will never understand why Thailand and Vietnam didn't execute a simple pincer maneuver at that point and just wipe him the fuck out. But they didn't. Maybe it's a Buddhist thing (all creatures shall live). Or maybe they weren't really on speaking terms, as they often still aren't even today. They backed off and inexplicably let him live out a full life, as Buddhists do with the vipers that slither into their children's bedrooms at night and try to kill them, and Pol Pot's "army" mostly ghosted back into Khmer society as if they'd just been out on extended holiday to the South of France. For the most part, no one even knew who they were -- the baby killers. Too bad there was no Internet then. Only a small handful were ever prosecuted.

I have many Thai friends in the southern Isaan region who remember the threat very well. Word spread that Pol Pot was coming and his legacy preceded him and all Thai life stopped in that area. People hid in their fields for weeks. They also tried to procure guns in the hope of staying alive, but the Thai government doesn't want its people armed either (for their safety), so the children simply hid, and waited to be raped and killed. Eventually the Thais learned that Pol Pot had been stopped at the border, and after that really sunk in, life gradually returned to normal. Imagine if he hadn't been stopped. Vietnam wouldn't have pursued him there, into Thailand, even if Thailand had been unable to stop him. Imagine the wolf among 61 million unarmed sheep. I can ably describe a lot, but I can't describe that.

Polpot lived out a long life not in "comfort" per se, but not especially miserable, either -- not the misery he deserved and to which I could have introduced him -- and not truly hunted like an animal and tortured like a demon, which always annoyed the fuck out of me. Still does.

I was able to go to him by about 1995 but I hadn't a clue he was still alive -- I was positive someone had gotten to him, so I did nothing. Imagine my chagrin.

I remember a reporter, I think from the BBC, interviewed him not long before his probably natural death just before 2000 (1998 I think), and he arrogantly said for the official record that he didn't order the killing of ALL those children (apparently only most).

Then he got a defiant look on his face and turned accuser to the interviewer:

"You think I'm a BAD man??!!" he sneered.

And a throaty, "My conscience is clear!" is another quote.

I think the reporter didn't answer, probably in fear of her life. But I would have answered.

A mock trial was effected late in the game and he was more or less incarcerated for a while. Then he went for the long, peaceful sleep. Or nightmare. Whichever.

I suspect Martin + Minions at Littler-Mendelson would have the same putrid attitude if questioned about his and their willful, planned, orchestrated and paid-for actions and crimes and antics in Aukeen Court-Kent in 2001, and other misdeeds since. Lamb and McFarland would respond similarly. Evil and Arrogance are a bad combination. Lawson's reaction when confronted with it was to just die. He died on the spot.

Oh -- what were the crimes committed by Pol Pot's victims that caused their horrendous murders?

They refused, or tried and failed, to work his farms. Doctors and librarians couldn't farm. Go figure..

Polpot was American-educated, but learned his politics in France. Oh those Froggy rascals.

After his death certain "woke" factions have tried to legitimize his actions and behavior, to excuse it, to justify it. Which political party do those folks subscribe to? Where do "the woke" hail from again?

And where did he get that stupid fucking name? No one knows. He probably pulled it out of his ass in an American University while smoking dope or dropping acid or both, along with some limp-wristed, astronomically misguided professor, in a Liberal Arts or "Political Science" class.

The preceding is to illustrate that bad people -- born bad, and bad in the heart -- demand your rage because understanding and compassion will only get you killed. Or ruined. The Pol Pots of the world, even the wannabes, take no prisoners. They are as impersonal and uncaring as any cold viper. My God, how many decades did it take for me to choke down that very unpleasant truth. They earn the rage. Rage for people like Pol Pot, and Pol Pots in the making, isn't optional. Coddling or ignoring skunks only empowers and delights them. Bad men are validated AND ENCOURAGED when good men do nothing. No truer thing was ever said. (It doesn't matter who said it, even if it was my pet rabbit when drunk).

I hope the preceding angered you. I hope it ignited in you the realization that you can NOT whimper and roll over for the pushy, outrageous, reeking, cocksucking evil shits of the world: big ones like Pol Pot, or little ones like Martin. Pushing back isn't fun. It takes time and energy and often money and it's always risky. You might think you have better things to do, and you do. But you have no choice, unless you want to end up a moaning, crying Khmer, choking on your own clotting blood froth as the child you hold in your slippery arms whimpers less and less, and finally shudders for the last time against your numbing body. Looking the other way leads to dying under the scudding monsoon moon while the vipers strike your face again and again, seemingly just for fun, and you can't even raise a hand to stop them, and you don't want to, and the scorpions and centipedes sting your eyes and the deafening tinny music wails from back where the lights are, because that's what rolling over and begging and looking the other way and swearing you have better things to do and peeing on your own belly will ultimately get you and bad-hearted aggressors love that.

So, this aside has prepared the unfortunate reader for my roughshod analogy, presented below, in extremely poor taste. I don't apologize. My intent is to use a Goddamned hot-arcing cattle prod to shock the reader to full wakefulness and to impress upon them the seriousness of the actions of bad people who do their level best to RUIN LIVES FOR FUN AND RECREATION, even in their early years when they're only committing tiny flashes of outrageous evil: Paul G. Martin. And who, even when the facts surface months and years later, doesn't possess the teeniest set of balls which should have dictated to him that any decent man, any real man, would stand up straight on his own hairy hind legs and make the situation right: Paul G. Martin: what a guy.

Had this all transpired in Cambodia in 1974, would Martin have merely sent a squad to kill me to keep me quiet about the insanity and incompetence of his company? Who can speculate. Let's see: ruining a life for fun, taking a life for fun -- how far apart ARE those two things?

The actions of this demented quintet -- Lamb, McFarland, Tift, Collins and Martin -- heck let's make it a sextet and include Lawson, who was dead-set on destroying the very fabric of the very law he was sworn and commissioned to uphold and protect -- weren't as bad as a man who wastes 2.5 million innocent lives, not even close, but they're still pretty fucking bad, and here's the naked truth for making this comparison:

How bad might these people, any of them, have become, with no restraints, smack-downs or speed-bumps in their paths whatsoever? I think bad beyond imagination. Evil doesn't heal itself; evil consumes all the oxygen and space it's given.

How many truly atrocious stunts and aggressions against good people did even this tiny, insignificant website, posted originally way back in 2001, dissuade the fools at Dart from committing? Maybe, just maybe, when they became irrationally annoyed at the next good driver or other employee who simply wanted to quit the asylum and move to an honorable, clear-headed firm, they remembered this website and thought, uh, no, let's just ride this one out, because our kind of ham-fisted cure is far worse than the affliction. Maybe they never once grasped the slightest logic of why screwing good people over is counter-productive to society as a whole (which includes themselves, as well), or "morally wrong"; rather, maybe they were dissuaded ONLY because of the possibility of retaliation and pain. Sometimes, that's all you can hope for in backing psychopathic criminals down. They're incapable of learning, just as a gecko is incapable of shooting hoops, but the penalty of trying and having the ball smash your tiny head is enough to turn you to other pursuits, even if you don't grasp why it was a dumb idea in the first place.

And what kinds of things might have been done in Pol Pot's early days, before he was one of the world's most unfathomably hideous murderers, to dissuade him from that path? Early-on, it might not have taken much. Maybe just a horrifically embarrassing website denouncing his astronomically flawed logic. Maybe a really righteous ass-kicking when he was 19 years old? Who knows.

Should we cut Martin some slack because he's DEAD? Should we cut Polpot some slack because he's DEAD? Should we cut Biden some slack because he's stupid and soon to be dead?

Nay, Nein, Nyet, not a chance. The principle of total accountability applies in all cases. But, but, but...what if Paul Martin had rescued 163 kittens from trees when he was nine? What then? Surely, THEN, we could be disposed to SHUT UP about the shitty things he DID do? No. In that case maybe we'd mention the kittens and ALSO the evil shit. But the evil shit never gets omitted.

Man walks into a bar and says -- Oops. Wrong joke.

Guy murders seven babies with a machete for fun.

They strap "the guy" to the gurney for the baby-killing convictions after four trials and seventeen appeals, and in the shadowy basement of the prison they stick the needle in the vein and they're just about to push the plunger when his wife runs into the room yelling,

"Stop! Stop the execution! I just found this old Super-8 home movie! Look! He rescues a kitten from a tree when he's nine! Look! This is a good, good man!"

A Warden leaning one way politically walks over and pushes the plunger himself which saves future babies.

A Warden leaning another way politically, screams:

"Stop the execution!" and he unstraps the man, gives him the contents of his wallet, apologizing profusely and tearfully all the while, and sends him home in a Limo and back into society, where he will promptly kill more babies for fun and kicks.

"We'll have a parade for this Hero tomorrow!" that Warden shouts.

The New York Times and the murderer's friends and family cheer and cheer in demented ecstasy.

And more babies are killed almost immediately.

--And still they cheer! (you know, the kitten thing).

Would Leigh Ann Collings Tift cheer as well? Of course she would. She'd be the one in front with the pom-poms.

Let me reiterate: Fuck Paul Martin. He doesn't get off.

We will, however, do this one small thing for Martin. This does not in any way whatsoever excuse his putrid, disgusting, adolescent behavior in Aukeen-Kent Court back in 2001. He acted more foolish and childish than I think I have ever seen any adult male act -- at least one that was not mentally handicapped. But let's make this notation anyway:

We know that the silly Dart office tart, Sarah, lied and lied and lied to Lamb and McFarland about absolutely anything and everything, and about absolutely everyone, for as long as she was employed at Dart. She was and probably still is a serial liar. She lied in order to create drama and tension and strife and she somehow perversely GOT OFF on those things. We've all seen that personality type and it's easily recognizable early-on. She was addicted to that artificially manufactured drama. Lamb and McFarland both said they had disciplined her in the past (2001) and would be disciplining her in the future (2001). Given those facts, we wonder how much of Lamb's and McFarland's anxiety over this entire issue of me quitting and refusing to visit them when they asked, was fueled by Sarah's mental problems and lust for drama. We wonder what outrageous BS Sarah fed them, just to create some fun and to feed her own character deficiencies. Even if that's the case, neither Lamb nor McFarland are excused even to 1/1000th of 1% in this but it may explain where some of the impetus came from to go insanely rabid. Regardless, they still acted as they did and, like Martin, nothing can or will ever erase that when they finally meet their Maker.

Then we must wonder, given that Sarah was certainly feeding Lamb and McFarland with bullshit (it was daily, even hourly, about other people at Dart and beyond and it had become....tedious), were Lamb and McFarland then adding their own outrageous lying bullshit spin to the story and feeding THAT to Martin? We think that's a likely scenario. That being the case, can Martin or Butler be forgiven even to the tiniest degree for their heinous, outrageous, embarrassing actions in 2001? No. No, they can't. Because they acted as they did regardless, and even when my polygraphs began making the rounds, and they received them, and when Lamb and McFarland refused to take theirs (and earn $5000 each for doing so), and Martin and Butler were made aware of THAT ALSO, these two, Butler and Martin, but particularly Martin, never once mustered the simple Goddamned guts any man should naturally possess and come back to me and apologize and make it all right with the world. That he couldn't figure out how to do that, means he is absolutely everything we say he is/was in this website, and probably far, far worse. He was -- how can we say it politely but accurately -- a piece of shit.

No, Paul Martin, President of Dart International Trucking, or Dart "Entities", or whatever hare-brained thing they're calling themselves now, didn't as far as we know try to physically kill any babies; he merely tried to ruin a life to the best of his ability for less than no reason, because, perhaps, it seemed like fun at the moment, or perhaps he was one gullible son of a bitch and he believed the rancid, doped-out fools Lamb and McFarland lock, stock and barrel, and without checking ANYTHING for himself, acted upon that pathetic gullibility in a most heinous way.

Sorry Paul; let's say it again: Fuck you. You ain't Polpot, but you don't deserve our kind words, either.

I'm sorry you're dead because I wanted more years of embarrassing you.

I always find it odd and amusing that some people are careless enough to cruise through life starting fights for fun, never once grasping that sooner or later they'll stumble upon someone who never, ever, ever backs down. They're shocked by that! Didn't they think this through before they embarked on that path? No, they did not. Because they're what you call, STUPID.

Pol pot was evil incarnate, yes. "The Squad" or "Quintet" or "The Gang of Five" of Lamb, McFarland, Tift, Collins and Martin, were LESS evil by a wide margin, but you have to stop and ask yourself why. Had they just not yet had time to become more evil? Had they grown up in the same environment Polpot did, subject to the same influences prior to and after his stint abroad, would they have turned out the same or nearly the same? Polpot was about COMMANDING people, to do, or not do, absolutely any fucking thing at his air-headed whim. The Squad is chipped from the very same stone -- they COMMANDED me to forget about that pesky thing called the First Amendment, the thing most of us have family who died protecting, and to do exactly what THEY said, which in this particular instance was to never tell anyone on earth what happened at Dart International Trucking and T&L Leasing, there in Kent, Washington, for three years before 2001. They actually believed they had the power AND THE RIGHT to do that!

Who in THE FUCK do they think they are?

That's not a rhetorical Goddamned question!

I demand a fucking answer!

Let's me restate it in a different way, perhaps more succinctly:


Who in THE FUCK do they think they are?


They were mini-Pol-pots, mini-Hitlers, or perhaps Polpots and Hitlers in the making, given a different environment and unlimited latitude and no one to ever, ever stand in their way and say, No. More. That was the job of their parents. Clearly, their parents failed. Their parents failed to teach them limits.

Spoiled brats and bad actors never cure themselves; they only get worse and worse and worse until they are stopped by some external force. Even then, they never, ever do any serious introspection -- they just change their methods to try to stay under the radar and keep on keepin' on, committing the same outrageous BS against others that they were born to do. Maybe in a next life they'll come back as better humans. Or maybe they'll just come back as a bucket of snakes.

There was a case in SE Asia in 2000 where a western tourist stayed at a resort and wasn't happy for whatever reason. He entered a review of the resort back through the International booking agency he'd used and left one star. The government of that country ARRESTED HIM FOR THE REVIEW, because they not only don't have an equivalent of a First Amendment, they actively support the ANTITHESIS to any First Amendment type protections of truth and opinion (odd place), and then the resort sued him, and he ended up fleeing that country with a lot less money. And the resort is STILL a shitty place to stay (and now with one hell of a lot fewer patrons because it made International news).

Is that the America you want? That's the America "The Squad" wants. And they tried very, very hard to get it. I bet Dart-Entities spent in the neighborhood of $40,000 US to try to keep me from "leaving a bad review". Had I done that before their meddling, it would have been a paragraph or two -- and now what did they get, with this extensive website and 1300-1600 unpublished documents generated by Tift still on the table? What did they CREATE? More than a paragraph or two. 1500+- pages, say, of new and unpublished documents will propel it to new heights. How many web pages in this pile?



This pile of documents (above) generated by this illegal, terroristic attempt to come at me is simply stunning, given that the PROPER and CORRECT way to go about this entire mess would have been to come to me, man to man, or woman to man, or Dart-Entities et al to man, and simply state your case and see what agreement could be arrived at.

For instance, Dart could have come to me in the very beginning, straight up and in an honorable fashion, and asked, "Do you have any intention of posting any kind of website about us, and if so, what will you say?"

I might have said I wasn't sure, and as for what I might say, I hadn't really thought about it yet, assuming I even DID post any website.

Dart could have asked me to please be nice if I did so.

I'd ask why? Were they nice to me?

They'd say, "No, we weren't. We know countless mistakes were made and our behavior was beyond reprehensible. We'll sign your reference because you really WERE a good and valued employee, and we'd like it (any problems or disagreements) to end before they begin. Can we talk and try to come to some kind of arrangement?"

I'd say, "Absolutely we can talk, and I'll pass anything I MIGHT write about you, to you, before I publish it, assuming I even do decide to write or publish anything at all. I'll give you the opportunity to ask for edits, but no guarantees I will implement any requested edits. I'm not feeling good about you people right now and I have things to say."

Dart would say "Ok, thank you. We will await any text you might work up and get back to you regarding it."

And I would say, "Deal."

THAT is how intelligent people handle things, at least when that option is open to them, and it was sure as hell open to the idiots at Dart back in 2001. Now the door is closed so fucking tightly an atomic bomb couldn't open it. Who closed the door? Dart-Entities-Trucking. Who welded it shut? Leigh Ann Brilliant Collings Tift of Littler-Meddlesome. What do I figure I'm owed in punitive compensation by Dart AND Littler? Let's start at a million and work up from there, along with a very public apology.

What's the average IQ of the average American? I think it's around 100 (103 in Asia) and that's a little scary. Those are the people running the country and telling you what to do. Reasonably smart people run around 120. I tested at 141 and 133 (I was lazy on the second test because I thought I had it aced -- which means I wasn't very smart in actuality). My friend who was fraudulently, criminally accused of rape while he was in another country, by the minions in the Seattle city government (see this story "somewhere" on this page) tested at 180; I never understood a damned thing he said! What's the average IQ of management at Dart-Entities? I think it's around 60. What's the average IQ at Littler-Mental-Some? I think about 70.

Anyway, I might then not have written or published anything and the case would be closed and I'd get my reference.

Or, I might have written something and passed it to Dart before public release. If they approved it, fine; case closed, and I'd get my reference.

If they didn't approve it, and I decided to publish it anyway, then they were free to go consult COMPETENT and PROFESSIONAL and HONORABLE and POLITE and DECENT legal counsel that actually had the best interests of their clients at heart (i.e. anyone at all but Littler Mendelson would have circumvented this entire mess in less than a free one-hour consultation), who would have advised them in ten seconds flat that they had virtually no control whatsoever over what I can or cannot say publicly unless I lie, particularly BEFORE I SAID IT!!!!! Dart would then be pissed. Oh dern the bad luck. I would then write what I needed to say and disseminate it publicly. It would have been a couple of paragraphs but it would have been more or less tastefully done because I would have appreciated and somewhat respected the fact that Dart came to me as upfront human beings, and not raging, walking hemorrhoids.

And THAT, ladies and germs, would have been the end of this entire fiasco. Done. Finished, before it even got started. Humans act like this. Stupid fucking monkeys act like Dart and Littler, screeching gibberish from tree limbs and hurling hot feces. These tiny matters are the issues in day-to-day life that competent, professional, realistic attorneys are meant to handle in about an hour, and reasonably is the way you handle them, if possible. At least you try that first. You don't ever, ever, ever act like Littler-Mendelson did. Not in a hundred billion years.

Any written assessment of Dart would have been a couple of paragraphs as an employee/employer review (uncounted billions of them on the WWW) that nobody ever read and not a single sheet of the unpublished documents shown above, nor this website, would have ever been generated or existed.

But Dart came at me in the most evil and disgusting and illegal criminal ways possible, without ever once even attempting to consult with me or to mitigate any damages. They came at me like crazy, rabid, crack-whore junkyard dogs. And what did that get them? It got them an ass-kicking -- all the stuff they see here, plus so, so much more that they'll never be consciously aware of. This website is barely the tip of the iceberg.

Smart move, Dart and Leigh Ann Collings Tift of Hitler-Mendelson. So very smart. You purport to be fucking professionals. When you say that you purely lie.

Why, oh why, didn't this gaggle of nitwits even TRY the decent, honorable, professional route FIRST? Because that's not who they are at their cores. It never fucking occurred to them! They truly are the village idiots, the Fools on the Hill, the drugged-out and/or nasty-from-birth power-hungry witches and jackasses that they proved themselves to be.

I can't stress enough that the Quintuplets, this Ship of Fools (Dart and Littler-Mendelson) aren't Polpot. But their dark desires and disgusting lusts for power are cut from the same cloth, and who knows how far they might have taken their insanity had I not stopped them (or at least tossed a tiny speed-bump out in front of them). Do the research -- some of them are STILL lying to the courts.

People ask me on occasion, "Well, what fate should The Squad have suffered?

Pol Pot wasn't one of this pile of steaming dog shit -- he's in a league alone -- but let's get to him first:

Pol Pot should have been captured and dragged into the jungle and tortured mercilessly for as long as we could keep him sane and alive. There's a bit of a line there; drive them crazy and the fun stops because they have no idea what's being done to them or why. Kill them accidentally and the fun stops because they have no idea what's being done to them or why. I probably would have started, day one, hour one, by sawing off his feet and stopping the blood with zip ties, just to let him know this was serious, and that it wasn't going to end well, but that that end was going to be a long, long way down the road. I could have slept soundly each night, 10 meters from his screams and wails. That would be music after the screams and wails of his victims.

Oh -- but people want to know what should have happened to The Squad -- Lamb, McFarland, Martin, Butler, and Tift. Ok.

I didn't include Lawson because he was already quite insane and would have never understood a single moment of any punishment at all. Even being overturned and spanked by the appeals judge was enough to kill the jackass, for Christ's sake. That's why they don't "punish" the criminally crazy. To what end? You don't punish a salamander for pooping on your homework. To have lived a long, long life with people asking Lawson about this website weekly, would have been fine by me.

But, The Squad.

They should have been very publicly outed in the media. Every detail of every stunt they pulled and lie they told and scheming scam they orchestrated should have been advertised heavily and often in the nightly news, as a warning to people who might ever come in close proximity to these bottom-feeders in the future, and as a warning to those little budding wannabe Pol Pots who were thinking of fucking innocent people over in similar ways.

They should have ALL lost their jobs, and ANY companies, even slightly, marginally decent and honorable ones, would have effected that within 24 hours. Let's say that again because it's very important: ANY companies, even slightly, marginally decent and honorable ones, would have effected that within 24 hours, but both these corporations kept ALL of these losers on for decades afterwards -- Except Martin, who had the audacity to DIE. But neither company here, Dart or Littler, is even remotely either of those things, marginally decent or honorable. They're America's low-lifes. Like Bin Laden or any crazy, screeching, wild-eyed, barking-mad terrorists, these "Entities" most certainly got raises and perks -- maybe even parties in their "honor".

They should have been fined, say, $200,000 each for willfully mis-using the judicial system and for the mockery they made of it, payable to the judicial system to be used expressly and explicitly for screening and culling of incompetent, imbecilic judges. Make it a cool million for Tift; she makes more. 5 mil for her "lawfirm".

They should have been made to pay reparations to me, commensurate with the number of times they lied and how heinous those lies were. I should have been paid extensive punitive damages for the grief and rage they caused me. I could have collected that, at least some portion of it after the FUCKING ATTORNEYS got done sucking what blood they could lap up, by suing Dart and Littler, as stated elsewhere in this document, but I was afraid that more of their lies would cause me to adopt a "different strategy" and I wanted to avoid that, if possible.

They should have, all five, been incarcerated, commensurate with the degree of their dishonesty and the depth of their evil intent. 3-9 months, depending.

THEN, this website should have been written and posted.

Of course the US "judicial system" would never effect punishments like that, which is one quite major reason the US is in free-fall on almost every front and in almost every category. The US judicial system WOULDN'T EVEN REPLY TO MY ATTORNEYS when formal criminal complaints of black-and-white, bold-faced perjury and other crimes were filed against "The Squad", and we filed countless such docs over years. Years! And not so much as a reply. NOT ONE EVEN TO MY ATTORNEYS! And YOU are telling ME "the system" works even slightly or remotely? Go fuck yourself. If you believe that you're an imbecile. It doesn't work at all.

And people ask me why I left the United States. Get real.

Yes, that was a big motivator to simply give up on a system gone screeching-mad. Maybe it constituted the biggest motivator for me. But after a lifetime of watching the American ship sink at the hands of a law enforcement and judicial system (including dishonest attorneys) that were throttling it to death as completely and quickly as they could possibly manage, all to make a buck, the kicker came when I was on my way to a flight to Cambodia, driving up the 101 south of San Jose in a new Porsche, and I got pulled over by an old pickup truck with a full bed of miscellaneous machinery-type equipment in the back and a light bar on top of the cab (a light bar?). I had no who clue who this turkey was -- A scammer? A robber? I'd been behind him for miles until I slowly passed him at exactly the speed limit.

I pulled over. He wore only street clothes and a gun belt. I was unarmed because I was on my way to the airport. I kept my distance and asked him who the hell he was and what he thought he was doing, and was placed under arrest and in handcuffs to wait alongside the freeway for 30+ minutes while he checked my credentials. Turns out my Porsche didn't have a front plate -- which it was exempt from needing. And that was the reason for the stop. On a Federal Highway. In medium heavy traffic. By a man NOT really authorized to make any such stop. You have no words? Neither do I. It was just another nail in America's coffin for me.

The man was an unmitigated asshole, rude and insulting and wanting very, very badly to find some reason to shoot me, continually putting his hand on his gun and flexing it and staring hard at me when there was no reason whatsoever to do so. Out of the complete blue he sucker-punched me in the right breast thinking I'd go down, but I didn't, and we had a one minute fight, during which I severely pulled my own punches and really only blocked and swatted away his girlie hits, because I was just waiting for the mind-numbing boom and the resultant silence and blackness.

Then he simply stopped, instantly and utterly, like he'd been switched off, and stepped back and away from me as if the little ball bearing rolling randomly across the short-circuiting electrical board in his brain just happened to randomly roll to the sane side. He stepped back about 12 feet, put his hand on his gun and raised it a bit in the holster, then told me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. I swear to God I could see insanity in his eyes and I knew beyond all doubt that if I didn't, he would shoot me. Would he shoot me then, when I was cuffed? YOU NEVER KNOW WITH TODAY'S AMERICAN "LAW ENFORCEMENT".

I stood there at the edge of the busy 101 for about 30 more minutes as he got on his radio in his pickup and my Federal law enforcement background must have come back and he instantly came back to me and adopted the demeanor of a female dog wetting itself. He apologized profusely, eyes downcast, voice weak, hands and arms now limp at his sides, told me he hoped my wrists were ok (I had severe shoulder injuries from getting the bends as a commercial diver years before and this was a pain I'd only felt two or three times in my life). He pulled his pickup completely into the 101 traffic lanes to block them, causing existing traffic to slam their brakes, swerving dangerously to miss him, laying on their horns, flipping him off, so, he said, I could more conveniently drive away. No citation for anything because I hadn't broken a single law. Had I not been en route an International flight that couldn't be rescheduled, it would have ended much differently.

I can only imagine the screaming chastisement he received by the radio dispatcher and his C.O. for pulling one of the dumbest stunts in law enforcement history. Perhaps CHP got into the action as well.

It was one of the more bizarre things I have ever witnessed in all of my life. But in reality, this rank criminal insanity is stunningly common in US law enforcement now. Do your research. Watch lots of YouTube. The truth is out there. Then be afraid. Be very afraid.

Who was this fucking madman? He was a California game warden -- a glorified dog catcher, based in San Jose. But of course he thought he was so much more.

I had to very strongly and pointedly invoke the FOIA laws numerous times to obtain the records from his office in San Jose, and I finally brought in an "attorney", and I did get the records. I intended to go the Full-Monty legal route on this. But of course I remembered the Dart fiasco, way down there in the swirling darkness of Alice's Rabbit Hole, and after I'd been back with real human beings for two months in SE Asia, I realized that the USA is beyond hope. It's people are beyond hope. It's law enforcement is beyond hope. The judicial system has been a crap-shoot, defunct for decades, even a generation. What would it accomplish to slip back into that steaming, bubbling cesspool of lies and deceit and schemes and scams and corruption and incompetence like the Bog of Eternal Stench -- in other words, Hell, now that I had escaped it? What would be the point of slipping on your brass knuckles to go toe to toe for two years with a gaggle of upright-walking turds who would merely lie their lying mouths off with total impunity because there's no such thing as effective perjury laws and they know it? It took me years before I developed the stomach to read his incident report completely -- it was virtually all lies, except the date and location. Indeed, in this fucker's official report, our fight wasn't even mentioned. Read it again: in this fucker's official report, our fight wasn't even mentioned.

Is this unusual or atypical behavior of America's law enforcement these days? Not even close. This is now the norm.


Because there's an extreme and profound shortage of rational, reasonable, logical, intelligent people available to work in law enforcement in the world today, but particularly in the USA, where just about everyone has become a spoiled rotten brat -- even the police. Without YouTube, these accounts are just "stories". YouTube will open your eyes to reality and it will be stunning and painful. You'll undergo a paradigm shift. It's time to get your head out of the sand and do the research. I recommend a book called "Bad Cop, Bad Cop, Whatcha Gonna Do?" (Amazon).

The standards for being accepted for a regular law enforcement position have become more and more and more and more and more lax and relaxed over the decades. The psyche evaluation alone could now probably be passed by Charlie Fucking Manson (CFM). And when you can't get accepted into traditional law enforcement (police) what do you do -- because you still have that overpowering LUST TO CONTROL OTHERS. So what, oh what, can you do? You can qualify to be a dog catcher, or if you INSIST on being a dog catcher who can carry a gun, you can still qualify as a Game Warden, or you can become a "bounty hunter" (a la the embarrassing hunk of crap, "Dog" (Duane Chapman). Yeah, that's an honorable persona. Or you can become a security guard (they used to have a bicycle security patrol in Seattle -- we called them "Worms on Wheels" because they were all skinny, whiny little guys who couldn't knife their ways out of wet paper bags, or sometimes just "Meals on Wheels" because they got beat up and robbed so often, and not a single one of them could pass the most liberal psyche eval.

It has been said that the Impossibility of Reason, and that describes America to a T. Thanks Littler-Mendelson, and all the fools just like you -- you've done more than your parts in blasting holes in the side of the American hull. You've gotten rich doing that. Now you can wallow in the leaking feces tank you've created because you still have to live in it.

And I. Don't. Have. To.

I'd been scheduled to work with a relief team for two months out of familiar old Phnom Penh. I simply never went back.

Did I finally cop-out?


I gave up on a nation of corruption, supreme hubris and stupidity. Yes, SE Asia is corrupt too. But you can see it coming.


More about "cop-outs":

There was a guy named Robert Monroe. He claimed (claimed) he could travel out of his body while sleeping or whatever. He wrote three books, possibly more. One was titled "Journeys Out of the Body".

I haven't the faintest clue if this guy ever did travel out of his body -- well, he's been dead for years, so I suppose if it was ever going to happen, it has happened by now.

But Monroe told a story, and for the purposes of this discussion about "copping out", or walking away from problems that should be or should have been dealt with and solved, it doesn't matter if he ever did the astral-projection thing or not. This is a discussion of principle, not mechanics.

Monroe claimed that as he left the earth (eye-roll please), he would sometimes or often encounter a layer of "bad entities" (gee, could they have been, uh, DART-ENTITIES??) before he could get completely away from the earth, en route to some happier place.

That description sort of struck a nerve with me because I used to fly open cockpit airplanes a lot, and in the late afternoons, as we climbed out of the airports, we would encounter this "layer" of airborne bugs. I never knew what kind of bugs they were. They were tiny, and there were millions of them per cubic foot, it seemed like. As you climbed up through this layer you would be absolutely pummeled by these things. On some evenings, you would climb out through this layer quickly -- like in about 100-200 feet of total thickness, and then you were past, and on top of the layer, and the demarcation line was pretty clear. Go up 20 feet, you were in them; go down 20 feet, you were out of them again. On other evenings, for whatever reasons, the layer was 500 feet thick but still clearly delineated. There was no way you could see without goggles when in the layer, even though we had half-moon windshields. The inside of the aircrafts would become coated, instruments covered, teeth full of bugs (sometimes you had to swallow them). The leading edges of the wings got plastered in them -- even the leading edges of the props weren't spared, and pitot tubes would clog. Once you got above the layer all that instantly stopped and you were in clean, clear air. Sooner or later, of course, you had to descend and land, and the process was repeated, but under, say, 100 or 400 feet, the air was clean and clear, just as it was above the layer. It just depended on where the critters were happiest on any given day, according to temperature, humidity, light levels, food sources, whatever, etc.. When Monroe talked about his "layer", this is what I envisioned -- assuming, of course, it wasn't all in his nightmares.

Monroe claimed that as he ascended through this layer in the ether-world, he found it teeming with the nastiest, most aggressive little critters ever known in any Universe or Dimension. He said he would try to pass quietly through this layer, but like street dogs ever on the lookout for bicycles to chase and riders to bite, they would instantly spot him and absolutely converge on him, biting, snarling, ripping, tearing, attacking, insulting, torturing -- and the weird thing was, the more he fought them, the more that commotion attracted others and the more ruthlessly vicious they all became. He claimed that there were times he simply couldn't get through this layer but had to return to his physical body and wake himself up, to try again another time. But he also said he learned that the more quiet and unobtrusive he was (sneaky, really), the more easily he slipped through that nasty region of ghoulish gnashers. Some number would still be attracted to his movement and would still attack, but not many, and not so viciously, and the layer wasn't so thick, and if he just kept concentrating on the fun and nice and lovely and cool places he was intending to visit, he would get through relatively unscathed.

True or not?

I guess we have to die to find out. I've "died" three times and been revived, but there were no bright lights at the ends of tunnels, no heavenly music, no kindly family members waiting to welcome me to "the other side", no visions of Jesus or God or the Devil either. There was just nothing at all.

Lawson knows, and I'm betting that's his permanent Hell -- the Hell of the Impossibility of Reason -- and that delights me. After all, that's where he lived his real life. Same for Martin. I can't wait for the likes of the uber-agressive, nasty, biting little gnasher called Leigh Ann Collings Tift to get there. Actually, she probably won't notice a thing amiss because she's already there, here on this plane of existence, and I find that, also, somewhat entertaining. The entire Quintet was hatched there for Christ's sake. They're only going home. This earth life cycle must be a fucking vacation for them. The Bible has a weird phrase: "Vengeance is Mine, Sayeth the Lord". Is this what the Bible was talking about? The shits of the world are merely relegated to be with their own kind forever and ever and THAT is Hell? That makes sense to me. Lamb and McFarland -- how long will they be trapped in that layer, if it exists? Eons, without ever, maybe, evolving beyond it, and that delights me also, because that's where they belong. It's where they came from and to whence they shall return. They've learned fuck-all in this life and they won't learn anything in the next, coming back as earthworms with teeth. Oh -- those are called snakes.

So speaking of copping out, Monroe did a technical cop-out every time he passed through there. He decided, simply, not to engage. That was a cop-out, because as long as no one teaches these fuckers manners, which was the job of their parents, they will do that through all eternity to all beings they can seek out and attack and, hopefully, destroy. Let's call them Internet Trolls. Or Pol Pots. Martins. Hitlers. Tifts. Whatever. Same same. It's all in the degrees.

If we try to apply that to the earth-life experience, is it the same? When we come across five 6th grade boys beating up a lone 4th grade girl in a vacant lot, is that just "the layer" that we should ignore and slip past without engaging? What would Monroe say to that? What's the difference between THAT "layer" and Monroe's layer of snapping shitholes, where he effectively closed his eyes and stopped his thoughts and tried to slip through the carnage with no responsibility to the greater society? Was Monroe just another of the hapless, weak-headed spectator's at the murder of the woman in NYC in 1964?

I'm actually not sure. I can't answer it completely. But it's a fascinating discussion.

Monroe's logic would be, I think, that there's an unlimited number of these base little assholes, and you can't fight them all. You can't teach manners to ANY of them, let alone a number so large it can't be expressed mathematically. So why try at all? Why waste your time? Why not just continue on, ignoring the sixth graders beating the little girl, the asshole dissecting the woman on the sidewalk, the pedophiles raping children, the Lambs and McFarlands and Butlers just fucking around, trying to destroy random lives for fun. Just sidestep all that, and tell society you don't have time and can't be bothered, and go have your own fun somewhere else as if none of this was even occurring? Why not just look the other way and let all the Lambs, McFarlands, Tifts, Butlers of the world destroy lives just for light hearted amusement? THAT is "the layer". Just ignore it, right? Or stand on your own two legs and put your hand up and say clearly, NO. MORE.

For almost all of my life I've been the one to engage evil where I find it. I was just a kid when I heard about the poor woman who was murdered on the sidewalk in New York City while she begged for help and an entire community of limp-wristed onlookers (1964 Snowflakes) only onlooked (today the Snowflakes and Millennials would take selfies). I was incensed and outraged and I vowed to never, ever, ever be like those people.

What would Monroe say to that? What would he have done on that sidewalk in NYC in 1964? I honestly don't know. One could explore both arguments -- one, that if you ignore that shit the world will simply devolve into more and more and more chaos until that's all that's left: Armageddon (it may not actually be great world wars, but rather just spoiled, illogical neighbor murdering spoiled, illogical neighbor until there are only a thousand people left on the earth and no one can find anyone else to kill because they're too damned far apart). Or, two, if you get involved and try to inject into these situations those things a certain political class PASSIONATELY HATES, like empirical logic, reason, limits, manners, social responsibility, etc., then are you giving up your own life or existence for a battle in a war that can never, ever be won? Better to just be quiet, and slip on through?

For me, yes, I did cop-out on the Dog Catcher case. I didn't cop out on the Lamb, McFart-land, Dart-Entities case.

What was the difference?

In the Dart case, I had the energy to fight. In the dog catcher case, I simply didn't. That saddened me, but it is what it is, I was teetering on the edge of giving up on America anyway, and that tiny nudge tipped the cow.

I learned that I, personally, can't fight every battle. Someone else has to do their share too, and good luck with that. Unfortunately, too few are now standing up to bullshit and evil, and even those who recognize that they MUST, don't do it because they're beyond terrified of lawyers and law enforcement and a judicial system that must be collectively dropping acid every single morning, they are that far removed from reality and common sense.

I suppose this is my personal answer to this riddle, for lack of a better one:

PROPERLY, correctly, logically, one must fight WHEN ONE CAN, and when one can't, one can't. The End.

If one individual can't lift the 10,000,000 pound barbell in order to save society, then maybe everyone together can, because they must.

In the end, no single soul can fight every single battle in every single Universe/Dimension. It takes a collective effort to make existence better. That was the intent of the design of law enforcement and a competent judicial system when America was founded. It's now a colossally failed experiment. Why? Human nature won.

I consider all of the Pacific Northwest region "The Layer", concentrated mostly in an area from South Tacoma (Orting), to Everett, encompassing all of Seattle, west through Port Townsend (thanks a lot, Barney McClure, you witless fucking moron), and east through Bellevue, where America's most grandiose IP thief lives and works. But honestly, the madness has pretty-much metastasized across the entire west coast. Nevada used to be a haven of relative reason, but it has been Californicated now; it's just a disgusting suburb. All the Californians moved to Nevada to escape the insanity they suffered under in California; little did they know, THEY were that insanity. Same with Arizona. What a sad, sad loss. Idaho was never a contender; I used to own an airport there; there persists an ugliness I can't describe. Oregon is little but whiny, immature boys in expensive 4x4's ranting loudly about things they don't understand and won't understand twenty nine lifetimes from now. SE Asia is dirt poor, therefore it hasn't been corrupted in this way yet. But it will be. Thankfully, not in my lifetime.

There is no point in fighting the fight of logic and reason where it simply does not and can not exist. You can't build a high-rise in the sea. You can't grow a garden in a vacuum. You can't enjoy ice cream in a factory fire. You can't teach stuffed animals to fetch. Save your energy for places and regions that still have hope and which have a foundation to work from. America was a good try. It peaked in about 1961. It has been in decline ever since. Now it's a dark and scary free-for-all of true insanity, chaos and violence, perpetrated by a lazy, spoiled class of citizens and a lazy, spoiled class of police, with a giant class of lazy, spoiled attorneys and politicians making it all worse. For Christ's sake, Pete Buttigieg just announced that, "America's highways are racist and the infrastructure bill will help fix it". Soon, blacktop asphalt won't be allowed because it's demeaning and insulting to blacks; all highways must be pastel hues not depicting any skin color on earth. I'm not making this up! Google it! If you're not abjectly terrified of this level of insanity at this level of government, then you're brain-dead and you deserve everything that's sliding down the outhouse roof and onto your head. The US is sliding downhill faster every year and there is not one single soul at the helm of the ship. Nancy Pelosi and AOC have barricaded themselves in the wheelhouse and are lighting bales of pot on fire. The Titanic isn't just sinking; it's going over Niagara Falls as it sinks and there's a raging blaze in the engine room! The crew is all smoking crack and no one knows how to use the radio to call Mayday. I don't believe there ever will be anyone steering that rusty, rotted hulk again. I used to expect the US to finally, suddenly implode at some point. That's no longer my prediction. It will just get crazier and crazier and crazier forever, until it is nonstop urban warfare without cause in the streets. It's nearly there now. That crap will ebb and flow for decades yet, and people can still sort of pretend they have a viable society, but in the end madness will reign supreme and you will need a friendly gang, heavily armed, to get you to and from the Supermarket. It's like that some places right now. I lived through Joe Alioto's bullshit in San Francisco. It was like a video war game to go shopping. Oakland, California is now like that every day and night.

Want an Oakland story? --Because this is what's coming to YOUR hood, sooner or later, and probably sooner, courtesy of demented, illogical attorneys and judges:

I used to drive semi truck in San Fransisco and it was great fun navigating a 53 foot van through those tiny, hilly streets. I mean, it was like a laugh-out-loud competition in which you never tired of the challenge. In any case I had to make a delivery to Oakland every night at 2 a.m. and swap trailers, then take one in through a heavily locked gate -- no lights anywhere in the vicinity and the gunfire was nearly continuous. I remember when actual firefights weren't that active. Inside the gate I had to swap trailers again, and then take one to an all-night weigh station (truck scale) a couple of miles away, then take it back, then swap again -- there were in all about six swaps involved in a blackened industrial trailer storage yard in the exact center of the very worst part of Oakland and I was alone. The place was an absolute house of horrors of slinking shadows between the trailers and rounds being chambered into semi-automatic weapons close at hand in the shadows and ladies screaming 30 yards away in the blackness from under some vehicle and taunts of crack-zombies as you were trying to deal with the locks on the gates -- it was very nearly Dante's Inferno. I was watched from all sides, from all dark spaces, the denizens intently looking for any sign of weakness. Your head was on a swivel. Who can speculate what my heart rate was. I ran that route for a year and it was a miracle to survive.

At traffic lights, car loads of gang-bangers would roll up next to you and hang a few guns out their windows, and laugh their toothless grins, just to see if they could get a reaction from you. Look at them directly and that was a mortal insult which called for your immediate death and that was the fate of a number of truckers. Ignore them and they just ramped it up all the more; they were offended they couldn't scare you. You had to learn to sort of do something in between those two acts. I tried wearing headphones to make them think I couldn't hear them, but they'd pound the butt of a rifle against the door until they KNEW you heard them and if you didn't respond THEN, you were insulting them all the more again.

On one occasion I was heading from that unlit, unmanned storage yard to the weigh station and I had to traverse a couple of residential-sized small lanes to get out to the main boulevard where there was light and traffic. Even though most of the traffic consisted of half-demolished vehicles with few or no working lights and smashed out windows and drivers wearing masks and guns on every dashboard and seat -- out there on the brightly lit boulevard still seemed safer than back in the tiny lanes that were completely darkened.

I was rolling along under ten miles an hour, and up ahead I noticed that the one-lane road was blocked by a number of vehicles with half naked forms dancing around in the smoky glare of headlights. There was a fire, and loud music, and gunshots, as always. I decided to try a different route out to the boulevard.

I made a very difficult turn with the 53 footer and headed a direction through a residential area that I thought was a prudent route, but I passed several homes together which had a big block party in progress. As I rolled slowly by, all activity stopped and the music was switched off and suddenly my tractor was brightly illuminated by an array of hand-held spotlights. I watched the scene without turning my head completely toward the crowd of perhaps 40 mostly shirtless partyers, but it was clear they were amazed to see this shiny new Kenworth semi rig with a huge fat trailer full of God knows what (bars of gold, probably), just rolling quietly through their blacked out hood in the middle of the night where absolutely anything goes. There were a few yells and tribal yips and every person there ran for their vehicles. Clearly, a hijacking was in the making.

I picked up some speed but of course that accomplished little -- a loaded semi trying to outrun 15 fast cars? I started running faster and faster; none of the cars could get passed me on the lanes that had parked vehicles on both sides. So they started to take 90 degree turns away from me at high speed, then down a block, then as I passed through each intersection I could see them running parallel to me, but a block over. They tried again and again and again to get ahead of me by enough of a margin that they could get over to my street before I passed through the intersection and block the street in front of me. Each time they nearly succeeded at that, I had to make a 90 degree turn onto a new street and try to keep that distance. I ended up turned around and lost and had no idea which way to go to get to the main boulevard, and this chase went on for 15 minutes. I was taking right-angle turns faster and faster with the largest trailer allowed in the US behind me. They were getting more and more into a position to block me and I was trying to decide what to do when they finally did. Stop, get yanked out of the truck, shot and killed? Or ram my way through them and proceed on under a hail of gunfire, maybe to finally get jammed up at some intersection further on where I couldn't make the turn at all?

It wasn't the most scared I'd been in my life, but it was ranking well up on my list. They had fully automatic Class-3 machine guns that would penetrate any part of my cab and go through me and right on out the other side to kill some child in their bed half a mile away.

I started getting into streets where I simply couldn't make the turns without hitting things -- stop signs were being flattened, trees were felled, guy-wires for telephone poles were twanging and snapping, cars were getting scootched over and up onto the curbs by the trailer wheels. And still, they raced faster and faster to try to get ahead of me.

I eventually did hit the main boulevard; I saw a clear spot in traffic and kept right on rolling through the stop and into the street under the bright city lights. All the pursuing cars stopped at the boulevard, as if it was some invisible barrier. A few shot their guns -- I didn't know at me, or into the air. I rolled away to the busy weigh station, with lots of trucks and people around.

I parked the rig there and got on my ancient Motorola brick phone and called the police. As I was talking to the police, things began ticking against the driver side door of my truck. I looked out to see several men in their twenties about 20 meters away, all with their hands held high in the air. They'd been throwing pebbles at the rig to get my attention. That didn't compute at all. I rolled the window down and one of them asked if it was okay to approach closer. I asked why their hands were up. They said so I wouldn't shoot them. I said ok, approach. They cautiously moved up to about 15 feet from me and one started into his scam-spiel. They had their hands in the air even as they talked because many or most truckers simply popped a few rounds from their own guns at them any time one of these types got too close and this was learned behavior for them.

One went on about how he had been discharged from the army only an hour before (at 3:00 a.m., and with shoulder-length greasy hair and missing many front teeth) and how he needed "just a little cash" to get him on a train to go back to Louisiana where his momma was sick and his dad had just had both legs amputated and his sister was trying to recover from being bitten by an alligator and his family would be losing their home to foreclosure in a few days-- I don't remember the details of this one. ALL the stories were that absurd.

You'll hear these 20 times a day when working in that area. I rolled the window up and finished my call. The dispatcher promised the police were on the way. Two hours later they hadn't arrived. I called back but got an "all circuits busy" buzz. I weighed my rig and continued to my next stop over in Reno. No report was ever filed. Indeed, what would be the point?

Oakland is what it is now (this was 30 years ago; now it's worse). The entire place smells of urine and the smoking remains of buildings torched for insurance or fun. Even the nicer boulevards are littered with upside-down burned-out cars, mattresses, the left-overs of personal belongings, dumpsters on their sides with their contents spilled out blocking three lanes, sleeping or dead forms everywhere that you must step over to enter a 7-11 or a Denny's. People don't understand, America doesn't understand that this is coming to THEM, right to their doorsteps no matter where they live, even on Brainless island, Washington, and they have one class of people to thank. For God's sake, America, find some fucking common sense.

This is what a certain political party and a certain type of human being has brought us and continues to push aggressively for every waking moment. Why? It's a brain disease. It's pathological. It has come to this because no laws are enforced anymore. And why not? The police know there is absolutely no point in picking anyone up for, really, any crime at all, because attorneys and imbecilic judges will only pass them right out the back door. And too often, the police are just as guilty as the crooks.

I'll say it again: it's a clinical brain disease that has caused and is causing this -- even if you take these people by the scruff of the neck and pry their eyelids open and force them to look at this and smell it and to duck as the bullets wizz over head, they'll simply ask you what your problem is because they don't know. It's not going away. It's not going to get better EVER. The cow has tipped. Nothing and no one can right it now. It hasn't yet hit the ground, but it will. The fall is irreversible. As Americans you have two choices: Leave the country, or hide. I used to laugh out loud at the fringe element that went out and built underground homes and bought abandon missile silos and the like. I did. I laughed out loud at the obvious stupidity of that. Now I wish I'd had the foresight to do it myself. But, honestly, even in the protected depths of a missile silo, you're still in the United States, and the insanity will eventually seek you out. Sooner or later you'll want to crawl out to go to 7-11. And who wants to need an armed party to undertake that expedition? Ask the poor people of Portland.

Much of my childhood was spent in a place that could have been named Mayberry USA. And some of it was spent near Oakland, living semi-homeless in the Hispanic districts. I've seen many variations of American life and I'm qualified to comment on what I've experienced. I've seen the stark contrasts. Incidentally, that "Mayberry" I grew up in? 50 years later it's nearly as bad as Oakland. How is YOUR hood faring through this storm of madness? Whatever the trend is, and you and I both know it's declining no matter where you are in the US, it will continue because there's no one at the helm to alter the course, and even if there were, they'd be stormed and murdered by "The Woke".

This is part of the layer that is America now. Would you like to try to straighten that mess out? I'll take and post the YouTube video, but who would watch it? People can just look out their windows and see the same damned thing.

That's the disease that is spreading to YOUR hood, thanks to really stupid, short-sighted "lawyers", who REFUSE to see the forest for the trees, and who have so watered down and selfishly twisted, spun and subverted any real and logical enforcement of laws that anything goes now. As I write this I am SO GODDAMNED HAPPY to be out of that asylum. "The Woke" have made their bed and now they can lie in it and I find great satisfaction in that but for one thing: The logical humans must ALSO wallow in the chaos. Why? BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T VOTE. --Or.....maybe they did and it didn't count. The latter is far more likely the case, and if that IS the case, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

Physical life might be all about learning to choose the most important battles, because I finally realize there will be battles of one nature or another, no matter what plane you finally ascend to in five trillion years of life-cycles. Give those your all. Ignore the others, knowing they should be fought, but also knowing you're doing good things for civilization fighting the wars you can fight -- even if you lose. Break the nose of the schoolyard bully and knock out five teeth, and even if he kicks your ass, he'll remember that nose and those teeth and maybe some of his next would-be victims will get a pass. Maybe Pol Pot's course and the course of other ne'er-do-wells could have been altered by external forces. By education? That didn't work. You can't educate a stone. By brute force? Yes, if they're doing great harm, and until you get their attention.

I had discovered, though, that in the US, it was a fight with demons just about every day. It's getting steadily worse and the trend will not end, and the reasons are many but all are identifiable: Spoiled Rotten Brats. People in Third World countries still suffer under real and palpable hardships, and they aren't (yet) nearly, nearly so whiny and spoiled and unrealistic and petulant as Americans. I think that's why I prefer their company.

Fight bullshit when you can, and sometimes you have to reach deep to find that strength and drive. But slip on through the layer when the fight's not in you, to rest up and fight better another day. I don't know what else one can do. But you sure as fucking FUCK don't walk past a woman being murdered on the streets of New York City, no matter how little fight you're feeling in yourself, no matter how deep you must dig to find your balls, and you don't roll over for the slimy likes of Leigh Ann Collings Fucking Tift or all her sleazy ilk either.

And if you never fight a single battle for the greater good of society, then you're merely leaving the mousetraps for those who come after you to be injured, ruined or killed by, and to clean up. Fuck you, you lazy, antisocial Goddamned twat. You want all the good, and none of the bad, but you don't give a rat's ass if you skim all the cream of life and leave the poisonous residue for everyone else.

Just a quick question: Ask yourself if, when you're walking along a street, or in an alley, or on a bike path, and you spot a nail or a screw lying on the ground, do you pick it up and toss it in the brush or the nearest bin where the tires of strangers can't be punctured by it, or do you not even notice, or not even care, and just stroll right on by? The truthful answer to this question will tell you a little about your own soul. I've actually done this survey: About 60% of cops, who are good cops, will do this. 40% of even good cops won't bother. The new breed of law enforcement hasn't a clue what you're talking about it so don't even ask them. When you ask them the question, you'll see a tiny lightbulb flicker inside their tiny brains, and they'll secretly remember those times they walked on by such things, but that flicker will just flicker out. Prosecuting attorneys won't even know what the fuck you're talking about either, and will ignore you or change the subject. About 50% of defense attorneys will look shocked, and answer yes, yes, they actually DO toss tire hazards aside, and ask how you ever knew that. Corporate lawyers will never let you finish the question before interrupting to order another drink and to spew about their masterful handling of their latest case which fucked-over some other corporation (all legally, of course of course, but immoral as fuck, and they'll chuckle so cutely). How about the Quintuplets, Lamb, McFartland, Tift, Butler, Martin -- they also will give you the deer-in-headlights blank stare, because such a concept is utterly, shockingly alien to them. They won't even answer you. If you asked John Lawson this over dinner, he'd hold you in Contempt of Court. Got a boyfriend or girlfriend you're thinking of becoming serious about? There's a whole array of questions like this that you can slip into normal conversation and the answers will perhaps save you a lifetime of misery and grief. I have a few dozen I'd like to ask Leigh Ann Collings Tift. I suspect the answers would only lead us deeper and deeper into the black hole of her soul.

And here's another window into any person's soul -- this is a gauge, an indicator or how well any human has integrated into the social structure.


Copyright (c) 2021

This editorial review website features, contains

and includes my best recollections, hunches,

beliefs, suspicions and opinions, along with

numerous court records, trial transcripts

and certified polygraphs


You realize, of course, that car or motorcycle tires that are low on pressure are an extreme hazard to the people in that vehicle, and to everyone else around them, in traffic, and as pedestrians. Low tires cause really dangerous handling and are prone to heating up and blowing out and they do that a LOT. It's not occasional. A half inflated tire will blow in only a matter of a few miles. If it's convenient for me to do so, when I see a vehicle with a low tire, say thirty-fifty percent deflated, I'll briefly mention it and point to the tire and smile. I don't want THEM to have an accident, and I don't want the people around them to have an accident. Maybe I'm following a vehicle with a very low tire, and at the next red light we happen to end up side by side and the windows are already down, and we're eighteen inches apart -- I might look over and if I get their attention I'll say, "Hi, I just wanted to let you know your left rear is just about flat." Virtually always the person will raise their eyebrows and say, "Oh! Wow! Thanks!" And we drive off. I go my way and they presumably go off to find a place where they can air up their tire. Or not. But the point is, that's one member of a working society helping out just a tiny, tiny bit, another member of a working society, which in turns helps the entire society, which in turn helps YOU as a MEMBER of that society -- because, maybe, just maybe, that car with the nearly flat tire would have spun out of control at the next intersection and killed your child. Or you. It's like tossing a road hazard off to the side, or like holding open a door for the person behind you. It's called manners. It's just simple manners. Simple manners are now a mystery to most of America.

So watch the people around you when you're out and about and you see a tire on a vehicle that's nearly flat. Watch to see how many people will politely point that out. When I was a kid, the percentage of people who undertook this tiny courtesy was around 60-80%. These days? It's less than 1%. In Oakland, California and places like it, they'll shoot it out as you're rounding a corner just to watch the sparks and see the blood and take selfies and YouTube videos. How many of the "attorneys" at Littler-Mendelson do this thing of pointing out a low tire to a stranger? None. I'd bet money, and a lot of it -- not one single soul at Littler Mendelson or any firm like it is in possession of even this microscopic measure of simple manners. They've never done it. They never will do it. The very idea would seem absurd to them. And three months later the not-so-bright hefty gal soccer mom with five kids in the mini-van slews around the corner in their little suburban utopia and the left rear tire blows and the van rolls -- right onto the bicycle-riding child of the smug, clueless asshole who works for Littler-Mendelson P.C. "lawfirm" in Seattle, Washington. And what does that "attorney" do? --No chance they'll chastise themselves for not pointing out that nearly flat tire to that same mom at the PTA meeting a week before on Brainless Island, across the bay from Seattle -- nay. They'll sue the mom. And win.


More about "evil intent":

I have a shop in one country in SE Asia -- normally I just live in condos or townhomes in whatever country I'm working out of, but I wanted to try the "shophouse" lifestyle, so I bought into a five story shop/home, and it's been pretty cool. It's mostly what I had hoped it might be, from dreams starting about age 5. Fun community, lots of people, lots of activity. People are almost all quite good quality. Almost. I've had the shop for years and am always happy to return to it.


There's one shop owner in my cluster -- not a shop owner really, but a woman who owns a raggedy old push-cart that she has permission to park next to a convenience store, from which she sells snake balls and whatnot. Snake balls? They're SUPPOSED to be pork balls, but I know for a fact that a good percentage of them aren't made from pork at all -- they're made from Cobras. I don't like Cobras. I don't want to eat them (they're not really sought after by any palate here). And so I never eat pork/snake balls anywhere in SE Asia anymore. Homey learned dat lesson. Cobras are really, really cheap, and they're big, and meaty, and are an all around financial winner for little street vendors, and big restaurants alike. They're cheap because you never have to feed them -- they're what you call "free range" Cobras -- they merely feed on your dogs and cats and sometimes children. No overhead in Cobras. Yes, sometimes you might get pork. Or not. And you'll never know. I've been to the warehouses where hundreds and hundreds of Cobras are hung and skinned and ground and sold as pork. Up in NE Thailand, it's the same situation with dogs. In Laos and China, it's cats, preferably (tastier than dogs, they say, but harder to catch). In Singapore, it's by God PORK and no chance it's anything else. Cambodia? Might be rats, might be bats, might be _____________. Rats and bats and vipers aren't even disguised in Kumboosha -- they are BBQ'd and sold as is at every street corner.

Anyway, in the area of my shophouse, this one nasty old vendor woman, who has had (caused) problems with every other vendor, has a little girl who is destined to be the first female Pol Pot. She hurts any and every animal she can find (sneaks up on sleeping dogs and cripples them for life -- she likes to sever Achilles tendons with box cutters). She steals from the shops. She will sneak into the shops and break anything and everything she can get her hands on. Mom runs her cart business 12 hours a day, and she has no family, no babysitter, so this plump little girl has to just come along and hang out, 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. No shade. Only water and snake balls for food. No bathrooms (we have yet to figure out where she goes). No friends. I tried for a couple of years to find some way to tolerate her, but it's not possible. And her shortcomings aren't from lack of attempted discipline. The mother beats her mercilessly, daily -- but the physical beatings are probably having a reverse effect on her behavior. She has been banned from my shop for a long, long time, and she's not welcome at any other shop, but she's not dissuaded. She shows up many times per day and if everyone is busy with their shops and customers out front, she sneaks in, gets into my cupboards, and steals or breaks or steals AND breaks anything and everything. I had a big rubber gecko -- she broke it in half. How can you break a rubber thing in half? Impossible. But she did it. I have mostly given up appealing to the mom because that results in public beatings that are so horrendous that I truly worry for the girl's life. I am now to the point, however, of delivering a document to the mom, advising that every time the girl shows up at my shop, I will call the police. It's that serious. That will result in a once-in-a-lifetime beating of the girl, but I don't know what else to do. I'm not going to continue to lose property. The girl is 6. We might rename her Leigh Ann.

I can't help but wonder how many times neighbors of any of this bizarre quintet got to this very same point of exasperation.

Is this a Pol Pot in the making? Yes. Yes, it is. If "something" doesn't intervene effectively, she will evolve and devolve into Satan himself. Even with strong and effective intervention, she'll never be a beloved member of society. The best that can be hoped for, I think, is that she can be dissuaded from actually killing people when she's older. She MIGHT be educated to an extent that she stays out of prison, or not.

I wonder about Lamb, McFarland, Tift, Martin and Butler. Given unlimited funding, it would probably be possible to see if any of them (or all of them) have histories of animal abuse in younger years. That is, after all, one of the most prominent, tell-tale indicators of impending evil development. Wanton animal abuse comes absolutely from evil intent. And if they harbor an inborn evil intent, it can be mitigated with truly insightful, professional intervention (which doesn't exist in SE Asia), but never reversed or eradicated. Yes, Dr. Spock style psychologists will argue that ANY child can be turned around. I will say that most bad children can be partially turned around. But if they get into their 30's and 40's and beyond, and they're still pulling ludicrous, outrageous criminal stunts against others, then they must be declared hopeless. Was Pol Pot hopeless when young? Probably. Was he hopeless by about the age of 25? Yes. Were all of the Quintet hopeless? Probably. Pol Pot had NO restrictions or limitations placed on him, ever, so he just went Full Monty with his bizarre beliefs and wanton evil intent. The Quintuplets, conversely, had "some" limitations placed on them by American society, so they were forced to tone down their evil intent to a very large degree. But it was still there. They only tried to RUIN lives for fun, not TAKE lives for fun.

The point is, you can almost always see these types coming, if you know them early enough, and if you're watchful.

Remember "Little House on the Prairie"? Remember "Nellie"? I think the part was played by Leigh Ann Collings/Tift as a child actress. Or was it Delann Lamb? I forget.

Why is the US so impossibly bad and why are record numbers renouncing their US citizenship every year? Affluence begets arrogance. Arrogance produces whiners. Affluent whiners are a scourge upon the earth. Which political party does that strata tend to gravitate to?

The thing that made America Great is now the thing that is destroying it. It's ever and forever cyclic.

For God's sake the US government has virtually unlimited money (stolen from you) with which to at least construct a believable FACADE of a government. Yet it can't even manage to fucking do that.

Elections? No comment needed.

Did I give up on humanity itself?

To a large degree, yes. I gave up on fake, worthless, garbage people, and that mentality constitutes maybe 85% of American society now and the spook-factor is increasing daily. You can't fight odds like that. You can't reason with odds like that. You can't educate percentages like that. No amount of law enforcement can control people like that, especially when 85% of law enforcement is of the same exact putrid mentality. And where will you find competent lawyers and judges to straighten out the horrors that law enforcement heaps upon them now? Mars?

It's little more than chaos. I'll say it again: Every country has the government it deserves.

There's an old song with a line that goes, "Just get out the back, Jack, and set yourself free". And so I did.


Below: random notes, thoughts and observations on this case, more than 20 years later, written before we knew Martin had gone to that great septic tank in the sky. Or wherever.

HINT: This case is far worse than I remembered:


NOTE: Throughout the remainder of this website I make numerous references to the people at Dart and Littler being the worst, bar-none, humans I have ever encountered. I never personally encountered Pol Pot. But anyway, I should have said, in all instances, EXCEPT POL POT. Maybe someday I'll make all the corrections, but I'm confident the clever reader can discern what I meant and mean. This is a woefully disorganized and pieced-together rant at this late stage, after all, and not a structured and carefully proofed work of literature or engineering documentation.


Ok, here we go:

I stumbled across this page recently; it was written and posted many, many years ago. I wondered if it was still relevant. Here's a long sentence which I'm not inclined to map out, though knock yourself out if you so desire, which really should have been longer, in lieu of a list:

I thought about it for a minute and came to realize that in my long and extremely active life, having raised 131 shipwrecks off the sea bottom, having rescued 321 vessels in the North Pacific (including the United States Coast Guard TWICE); having flown every kind of small aircraft and survived numerous engine -- and other -- failures, one of which was directly attributed to an incompetent but fully licensed mechanic; and having worked in Federal Narcotics enforcement for years and having worked against both crooked crooks and worked with whole gangs and herds of crooked police crooks, I watched prosecutors and judges do jaw-droppingly terrible, illegal things; and having owned several sawmills; having worked as a tree-faller and helicopter logger and pilot; having sailed a square-rigged sailing cargo vessel from the US mainland to Alaska and back exactly 20 times delivering freight; having hitch-hiked over 110,000 miles as a runaway teenager in the 1960's; having owned countless small businesses, 99% of which were successful; having lived on and owned businesses on several SW US Indian reservations that were as rough and backwards as humanity gets; having written for national and International magazines for decades; having stopped the kidnapping of a young girl at gunpoint and marrying her when she grew up (we were married exactly 40 years until her death); having ridden rustler patrol alone over 1100 sections of high desert for years and delighting in knocking out the engines of their cattle-thieving semi-trucks from 500 meters (40-70% of the rustlers we thwarted out on the range were local Sheriff's Deputies); having survived and escaped the Khmer Rouge in 1969 (dealt with in 2017 on the banks of the Mekong, Lao-Cambodia border); having been forced to legally shoot two different men on US soil on two different occasions; having worked for the state for years as a poacher patrolman dealing with loud, drunken yuppies (many attorneys in that disgusting bunch) in pastel-hued designer SUVs and mini-vans armed with color-coordinated rifles of a caliber always far too large for their prey (and for their flinch-factors), who careened through the forests and back-lands indiscriminately blasting and wounding (and leaving to die) every kind of animal they encountered and laughing hysterically about it as they spun out for their getaway -- which only routed them straight into me and my video setup 200 yards further on; and having survived two ship sinkings and three fires at sea; having been called out to rescue two deep-sea divers trapped at 245 feet and then watching the United States Coast Guard kill them both through jaw-dropping incompetence minutes before we arrived on scene and erase all audio recordings of radio transmissions and then lie about it in court (I still want them prosecuted); it occurred to me that in all those activities and far, far more, dealing and interacting with every kind and type and strata of low-life, low-class, scum-bag, douche-bag, sub-human human-looking being piece of Goddamned rancid shit trash literally around the world, I have still never, ever, come across any people, person or group even remotely as dishonest, dishonorable and downright evil as Delann Todd Lamb and the foolish idiot Mark Steven McFarland of Dart-Entities/Dart International Trucking in Commerce, California, and I never, ever will, because there's only a tiny handful of people that putrid in all the world. I've never heard of people that low. Not even close. Not by a country mile, and that's God's honest truth. I've never encountered any criminal, many of whom I sent to prison for life, as despicable as these two piles of human compost. Never. They are truly wastes of biological material, compared to all that I've seen and experienced in this world, and that's truly saying something. Would it be a loss to a society struggling for legitimacy for either of these shameless pukes, or all five for that matter, to stick the barrels of revolvers into their lying fucking pie-holes and pull the fucking triggers? Or would it be a net gain? Maybe we'll post a poll.


The answer is:

Hell yes, this site is still relevant.

It will be relevant as long as dishonest humans walk the earth.


The families of these five people will never, ever, not in a thousand years, grasp nor understand their brilliant good luck in having the Dart anti-harassment orders overturned and that is an absolute fact. They were tinkering with forces their tiny reptilian brains could not possibly have grasped. They truly didn't need nor want the kind of publicity that would have arisen out of this had it gone further, and which would have haunted the family tree reputations for generations.

ALL people have limits. ALL people have red lines. These jackasses pushed me as far as I was willing to be pushed and I am actually beginning to regret allowing them to get away with as much as they did. Truly beyond the pale.


Lamb and McFarland?

These two fools extraordinaire are presumably still alive, and presumably still out there, working overtime and imaginatively, making the world and society as miserable as they are able. They both had kids; I'm terrified to think how they might have turned out. Society and humanity has a right to know what they might encounter in their daily lives; should society be pre-emptively warned about the kids? I'd sooner encounter Killer Clowns from Space than these soft, warm lumps of feces, the parents. I wish I had the vocabulary to say what I REALLY think of them. I treated these mindless, backwards, back-woods hillbilly fucks very, very well. And they repaid me with the actions described in this website, apparently merely because I had the audacity to quit my job and refuse to go visit them when they asked me to. Maybe pedophiles, serial killers, and child-murderers are worse, but I'm not sure. I think, at least, THOSE wastes of biological material sometimes, sometimes, experience guilt and remorse. Neither Lamb nor McFarland do nor will they ever because not even the scent of those qualities are contained within their souls. Ask those two (or five if you count the rest of the rat pack in this) what the words "guilt" or "remorse" mean; they'll simply stare at you slack-jawed, because they don't have a Goddamned clue nor do they care to know. I am not aware of any word or phrase in the English language which properly describes my feelings for these two zip lock sandwich bags of rotting, virus-laden pus.

And let's never, ever forget the amazingly gifted Leigh Ann Collings Tift (Seattle attorney extraordinaire)(Littler Mendelson P.C.), who actually helped cause this entire mess for her unfortunate clients by advising them stupidly and selfishly. We see she is still up to her old tricks in the "legal" community as of 2021. Dumb dogs never learn. She was only one woman but she was still like Daryl Daryl and Daryl all rolled into one. When I went back to court against Tift in 2001 for the last time, with my attorney (finally), my attorney, just before court came into session, very patiently and politely showed Leigh Ann Collings Tift the actual law, right there on the books, that specifically and explicitly prevented Tift from pulling the asshole-ish, illegal, unconstitutional, harmful-to-her-clients, counter-productive damned stunt she was trying to pull "on behalf of her clients". I was looking exactly at Tift's face at that moment, and listening to my attorney's words closely, and I saw Tift's face go slack. Her expression was classic "Deer in Headlights". Stunned out of her wits, I think, and rendered utterly immobile for a moment or two, I know she was thinking to herself,

"Oh my God, how could I have ever, ever missed this? I have cost this company tens of thousands of dollars, and I have accomplished exactly ZERO for my clients, and I have given this terrible man (Me) uncounted reams and volumes of classically negative material about me, and Lamb, and McFarland, and the two other mindless twats from Dart, and I have really, as they say in astronaut lingo, 'screwed the pooch.'. How can I ever get out of this mess?"

You could almost see the LED leader-board prompter in her tiny reptilian brain scrolling off those words while she poured herself mutely into a chair and stared at the air. A few minutes later she was effectively done, beaten, overturned, and I don't honestly think her hare-brained clients (Dart-Entities) ever figured out exactly how that came to be. No doubt Tift never brought THAT up in their future pow-wow sessions, but instead maneuvered expertly around that topic altogether, and the fools at Dart, brain-pans full only of sticky rotting sawdust, just never got around to unraveling the actual mechanics of what caused their downfall. Dart should have sued her for incompetent representation but they were too stupid to ever try to understand what happened. Moral: If you are of a mind to try to use Leigh Ann Collings Tift, or her stupid law firm (the name seems to morph slightly, periodically -- Google her for the most current), think long, long and hard. Do due diligence. Be careful. Shop around. Ask questions. Read ALL the reviews and CULL THE FAKE ONES. There is no shortage of ex-employees asserting that the good reviews of Littler-Mendelson -- say 2.5 stars and above, are pretty-much exclusively fake plants by upper management. That would be, after all, perfectly in line with the "attorney culture" in the United States. This woman, Tift, was her clients' worst nightmare and still is today! This page would not exist without her. Yes, Littler-Mendelson P.C. has whole herds of this type of "attorney" to choose from in their lineup, but ask yourself this: If that lawfirm recommended Tift to Dart, what are the odds YOUR FIRM will draw a competent clown when you need one?

Let's say that again in case the significance of it was lost on the reader the first time:


It would have no reason to exist. There would be no content to post. Without Tift splashing her dirt-caked cloven hooves in this mess like a drunken ox in a China shop, there would be not one single thing here to report! Has Dart thanked Tift for her "service"? To whit: I simply quit my job and went on my way. I wanted to never think about these imbeciles again in this lifetime. Tift created it all, all of this, every page of it, every line of it, and she profoundly exacerbated my undying resolve to make it a warning to the public by her relentless, putrid, insulting demeanor. She acted like a fourth rate (fourth grade) paralegal and we believe that's her level of expertise today. Pathetic cow masquerading as the savior of wronged employers, indeed. Yes, far too many employees are real pieces of work; I dealt with tens of thousands of them in our restaurants all over the central and western US over a full 35 years and I know first hand that any employer MUST have competent legal representation ON RETAINER so as to be in a position to act quickly and effectively when little snakes rear their ugly heads and attempt to strike. That presumes, of course, that it's not the EMPLOYER who's in the wrong, and attorneys like Tift don't ever seem to make that distinction because they don't bloody care who's right or wrong.

But I said COMPETENT.....


Read more about the King County Sheriff's Office -- a veritable criminal gang



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