Burnsville Metric 2006
Burnsville Metric 2001
Burnsville Metric 2002
Burnsville Metric 2003
Burnsville Metric 2004
Burnsville Metric 2005
 

Email Michael

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

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

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

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

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

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

     Needless to say “I was straightened out”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     I took him at his word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Be impeccable with your word.

Don’t take anything personally.

Don’t make assumptions.

Always do your best.

(The Four Agreements)

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

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

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

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

God, family, love, and yes for peace.

When we pray this prayer:

Our Father which art in Heaven,

Hallowed be Thy name,

Thy Kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in Heaven.

Forgive us our trespasses

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

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

Forever, Amen

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

When you can- keep a journal of your adventure.

Document events and times with receipts or whatever you can.

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

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

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

There are many things that many can say.

Just be true to yourself and hurry back.

Be careful.

Happy trails, Michael

Semper Fi

Vietnam Days

Dear Mr. Gruber,

     Thank you very much for considering me for employment. It is somewhat flattering, to have a longstanding person of honor, respect, trust, and love to recommend me to you for a job such as this.

     For decades I have tried to exemplify the proper professional bicycle mechanic. I consider it a blessing to have the skills and also the desire to “do a great job right now”. It’s great to have the skills but more importantly it’s greater to have the desire to take pride in every job in front of you.

     I started out working for two men from Alcolu, SC, Ray Richburg and David Alderman. I was given the job because these men knew me, almost at first sight, to be an honest man. They told me this. It delighted me more than wealth could, to be thought of as honest.

     My story leading up to this point was monumental so I’m not going into the Marine Corps, Vietnam, etc.- and believe it or not, you are reading my short version of my answer to your proposal.

     Unfortunately my story can get more monumental as I age.

     I learned and did well. I went to Schwinn’s mechanic’s school. I could build the best wheels. I could tear apart and put back together Sturmey-Archer and Shimano multi-speed hubs. I was and I suppose, still could be, the complete bike mechanic.

     I worked for the Salley brothers of Road and Track Cycles (803-536-4035 I think). Ed has been one of the fastest motorcyclists in the country.

     My reputation as mechanic was recognized by Joe Gillon and Norm Pace of the Great Escape. I didn’t know what I was getting into. The owners of the GE had a plan to rid themselves of their competition that had opened shop right down the street. Employees were required to go down to Sunshine Cycles to spy. Every employee went down to ask questions about pricing and snoop. I met the owner, Skip Snow, and didn’t care to get into a silly war with a nice guy. Skip had been hassled so much this way that he was used to it and not long after I was in the store he asked if I was sent down by the “owners”. I admitted I was.

     My great contribution to the espionage was that Skip was selling a better tire for $4.95 compared to the Schwinn Puff tire that the Great Escape sold for $8.95. I also explained that the Schwinn Puff tire needed a lubricant such as soap and over-inflation for the tire to seal around the rim properly. Sometimes the tire would pop off at a point bursting the tube. Time, money, and really health issues were at stake. When I gave “Norm” my spiel he replied that we got free freight on the Shwinn Puff tire. I guess he had no comeback for a reply as this. Free freight? What does free freight matter if you have to sell this inferior tire for this terrible price?

     Perhaps I was an enigma that Norm wanted to crack.

     I brought up to Norm one day that our washers and nuts were priced wrong. The axle nuts and plain washers sold for the same price of 25 cents. I then informed him that washers cost us 3 cents and nuts cost us 17 cents. He quickly told me we had to make more on smaller items. I couldn’t understand the comebacks. If anything we should have sold the nuts for more.

     Before I was at the Great Escape, a Clemson student named Ken Jones was their mechanic and the “go-to” guy. His fast work was glorified. Instead of loosening a derailleur screw to reset the alignment of a front derailleur he might hit it with a hammer for expediency. He was so big at the store that his father was given a job. His father was too old for real work. He had uncontrollable flatulence. He could be giving out change to a pleasant little lady while farting continuously.

     Ken would come in from college and rake all and everything off counters and toss valuable parts away. He would very pompously put everyone in their place.

     Ken was unleashed on an unsuspecting world from Clemson and I’m sure has made life a living heck for many who come across him.

     I was eventually asked to be the “head mechanic”. I declined because I wanted the shop to work as a cohesive team for all to prosper.

     The store was bugged everywhere there was a phone. Norm listened to everything. He had special “rats” that would come into the area of activity, pry, and then have to go back to the “back”. I told the truth too often and I BSed occasionally when I grew tired of the games.

     Due to an employee leaving the store in Spartanburg I was sent to replace that person. The employees left were John Thompson and John Feezer. They had quite a set-up. John Thompson would actually lie down behind one of the counters and go to sleep. Sometimes customers would come over and ask if we knew that someone was sleeping behind the counter. Feezer would explain that it was indeed our manager. John Thomson was a shoe salesman before being in charge of this store. He knew nothing of bikes.

     John Feezer would play video games quite often on company time next door at a pizza place. Quite often Feezer would come in and announce that he would not be getting his hands dirty today. I was the only real mechanic there. Feezer was terrible. I think he and others at the other store resented that I was the master mechanic.

     One day Feezer took my bike and as I was telling him, “no don’t do it”, he put my bike in a bike stand that was adjusted too tightly. He ruined my frame. It was an old Raliegh International, the prettiest I had ever seen when I bought it from Palmetto Ten Speed in Charleston.

     When I explained to Thomson the policy of taking in repairs, he flew off the handle. He had taken in a bike that would that not be worth the repair bill and without a down payment. He cursed me and I had enough. I told the owners it would be Thomson or me. I didn’t count on Feezer’s treachery but it should have been expected. I was naïve. These people were those who would do the crook’s bidding like go through Skip Snow’s trash to see what he was selling to harassing him about prices. Girlfriends of employees were sent to Skip’s store and made plenty of phone calls to boot.

     Thompson screwed up a sale by over selling a bike we could no longer get. I tried to smooth things over with a kid on the phone. His mother wasn’t home. I explained that we have the bike in chrome instead of black if that would do. Actually the bike was another model but I could change the parts around. The kid tells me that his mother was going to “bust a cap in our asses if we didn’t get the exact bike she wanted”. I asked that the mom give me a call and we’ll try to work something out. Days later a lady shows up, and asks for me. I admit that I am me. She looks at Thompson and says I insulted her or her son on the phone. All I actually did was try to help someone else.

     This would be used against me later as well as the time a lady left the main store in a huff. I saw quickly that the store’s image was to suffer and I was part of that store. I followed out and asked her if I could do anything for her and I apologized for whatever might have happened. This would be explained later by the employees who were actually at fault that I chased this lady out of the store in a bad way.

     I can’t comprehend taking any action that would not better the store, employee, and customer relations. If everything goes smoothly we make more money. But many workplaces can be this way- backbiting.

     I quit the GE once mainly because of Ken Jones. I went to work for Mike Melton in Columbia building frames from raw materials. I gave my notice to the GE at Christmas. This made the owners mad. I gave them a notice. I was leaving in winter which is the worst period for a bike shop. Still- I was ostracized. I was given the work-bench down in the basement with just assemblies to do. I was not the “go-to” guy. I was excluded from Christmas overtime which I was counting on. It was embarrassing and humiliating. A lot of companies in this “best country in the world” play mind games like these to coax the employee to quit and be at a disadvantage. After all what percentages do we have for the average worker in the USA as for as living close to poverty? I was always a pay-check away from homelessness even as I was considered high paid for a bicycle mechanic.

     Still the desire to be in a happening cycling community got me the second employment at the Great Escape. I would be sorry.

     So in my second employment I was working in Spartanburg with the “Johns” who were lazy jack-asses who got by on what they seemed to be. The last I heard Feezer was screwing up bikes and people in Beaufort, SC.

     Instead of my getting the helm at John and John’s Club Med I would be under John Feezer.

     I was informed that I was lucky to have a job. John Feezer would be in charge of me. John would teach me moped mechanics and I would be the moped mechanic. I would be the only mechanic to get “his hands dirty every day”. It may have been the same day I said to John that I would probably seek another job.

     I was the ultimate employee. I sincerely cared for my reputation as well as the Great Escape’s. I did most of the work when at either store. I did it the best. I even rode with customers more. I got a T-shirt from the Spartanburg Freewheelers for leading rides. The rides left my apartment every weekend, particularly Sundays.

     So John Feezer fired me the next day.

     When I applied for unemployment insurance I was refused. I was granted a hearing where I sat at a table across from an official who was sitting beside Norm Pace. These two may have been team-mates or lovers for all I know. But you can bet your buns that there was some hanky-panky going on. I was told that the reason I was refused insurance was that Norm had several witnesses he could call up that would say I was stealing from the store.

     It hit me right then- he had done the same thing to another mechanic named Nigel, I believe. He was from Columbia and had worked at the GE before I did.

     Norm liked to talk or brag –too much. He said more than once that if he were playing handball with an opponent as good as he was that he would hit this opponent in the face with the ball.

     As I was being recruited for employment amidst the talk of wanting his own airplane, for “business use” (wink-wink), and other grand schemes, he spoke of Nigel. I remember thinking at the time it was said that I would not have thought that of whoever this kid was. I had only seen him a time or so.

     Norm Pace had said that he could have several people who would bear witness that this kid stole from the Great Escape.

     How many times has Norm Pace pulled something like this?

     I made another plea to the state board and after driving there I was promptly told that “no new evidence” would be allowed. Catch 22 anyone?

     While at the main store in Greenville, I was used to talk Trek down a bit. Norm was military. He pulled all he could. He had me talk to the Trek people to make them understand it would be better to have the Great Escape on the Trek team. I explained that Trek used silver brazing that wasn’t as strong as bronze. I pointed out the bad brazing jobs where brake bridges were often crooked. The Trek rep explained that Trek planned to do better and take up bronze brazing the next year. It was a ruse for everybody. Do I look like a metallurgist?

     Norm was playing every angle to get the best deal. He made the deal with Trek to take the Trek Bicycle franchise from Skip and hopefully run Skip Snow out of business within the year. It was indeed targeted to run Skip out of business.

     The Great Escape had made a deal with Trek. They would purchase $40,000 worth of stock for the franchise. Now the Great Escape couldn’t sell all of these “hot bikes”. The deal was for about $40,000. That’s a lot of bikes.

     It was a hot line at the time. Even though the frames were mostly long drawn out touring geometries that rode poorly especially as in sport or club riding, it was popular.

     One day I was told to watch the front while a truck was loaded with bikes to be taken to other shops around South Carolina. Some were taken to Jerry Yarborough’s Schwinn in Columbia. Some were taken to Palmetto Ten Speed in Charleston. What I am writing right now is exactly what we were told. None of these shops were Trek Shops.

     What they were doing was wrong. In how many ways can a sane person count the wrong parts of this mischief?

     I walked out of the Great Escape to the pay phone right outside. I called Skip Snow of Sunshine Cycles and told Skip what was happening. I called Joe Azar who was the Trek dealer in Columbia and told him. I didn’t know a dealer in Charleston so I went back to work.

     Trek had taken the franchise from Skip’s Sunshine Cycles. The Great Escape had been the “Great Escape”. They were pretty aggressive toward the original shop(s) in Greenville, SC when Norm and Joe moved into Greenville.

     Sometime in the 1980s I owned my own store in Asheville, NC. Skip Snow’s lawyer asked me to give a deposition about a law suit against the Great Escape.

     I testified how Mark Sherrell and others would be rooting around in Skip’s trash at night. I would see them as I rode by on some evenings. It was common knowledge at the GE.

     I testified that the bikes were loaded and bootlegged around South Carolina, and that Skip was to be driven out of business, etc. This deposition took a while.

     The Trek lawyers asked me if I was a drug dealer and if my wife was a prostitute.

     Skip Snow got tens of thousands of dollars from the Great Escape and tens of thousands dollars from Trek.

     Still the Great Escape is successful. Norm and Joe are making a bit of money. It’s the American way. Two US Air Force liars treat people as fodder, as unaware enemies no matter how kind and sincere their hearts are. They use the most inhumane means in dealing with people who they know are Vietnam Veterans. They use awe, embarrassment, and shame in their arsenal.

     So do the Trek lawyers.

     I was over qualified for Van Trull’s job at J&B Importers down in Miami. I was dealing with Van for decades. He developed Parkinson’s disease and after too long in the saddle he retired. Van was the wholesale rep for J&B for the region.

     I liked Van a lot and tried to order as much as possible from him. He was always a bit ruffled when he came in but I realized he was on the road.

     When I applied for his old job the owners of J&B, Jack and Ben were so impressed with my resume that they offered to fly me down to Miami for an interview. I had met Jack and been a couple times so they knew me. I drove down to Miami to ride a bit with a great friend, Bob Scofield. To the interview I wore my best shorts and my Bike Across Missouri t-shirt which I thought would be impressive. I’ve saved boxes of great shirts for retirement I suppose. I felt I was dressed better than Van who never rode a bike. I walked past Jack and Ben.  They were on the phone. I was never given the interview I drove down for. I was taken to a room where I waited and then was told I’d be given a call that never came.

     I believe that the Great Escape- Norm Pace and Joe Gillon - black-balled me from this job.

     I believe that if they heard that I was working for you they would pressure Trek to have you fire me.

     So nobody ever bought a bike from Michael Davis because I was a Vietnam Veteran. As a matter of fact my competitors in Asheville said I was a “violent Vietnam Veteran”. I believe I sold a lot of bikes because I’ve been an honest person. Some people can see the real me. I don’t think anyone ever bought a bike because I was in the Marines.

     Nobody ever said that I was appreciated for walking out of the Great Escape and making those calls. I gave the Great Escape the best, honest work of anyone I ever saw at the Great Escape. At the end it was I who was faithful to Norm and Joe. I wanted the best for them. I just would not help the Great Escape screw Skip Snow. For my diligent work I was denied employment insurance. I resented the loafers at the Spartanburg store who actually stole time and money (money being time).

     It took decades for anyone in the United States of America to thank me for my service in Vietnam. I was riding the Blue Ridge with friends when eating dinner one friend said “thank you”. I went to the restroom and wept. I realized it was the first time.

     Nobody thanked me for helping Skip, not even Skip.

     Nobody ever thanked me for standing up to bullies twice my size.

     Nobody ever thanked me for saying in a crowded restaurant that the word nigger offended me, blah, blah.

     You have a store that is the biggest on the east coast, with two other locations in two other cities with sometimes dozens of employees.

     How is it, that Michael Davis is the only one that will have a conscience? How is this? Why?

     Yet this is a piece of sand on the beach.

     The conduct of people is appalling. The owners are despicable but are continuously and greatly rewarded.

So- without further adieu –

     I am one of the best mechanics ever. I’m honest. I’m modest as well. I adjust bearings on the worst bike sold. But these traits breed jealousy and God knows what-all. I feel that I would be used and abused for a little money.

     Yes, I still have a bad taste in my mouth about Trek. I met their lawyers.

     But to be fair to Trek, I also have a bad taste from dealing with Cannondale, Specialized, and many other bike wholesalers and bike shops. My life story has more twists and turns than Chubby Checker in a blender.

     I’m sorry but I can’t work for you. You may be a great boss. I have no idea. I certainly can’t bet on Trek to do the right thing. I cannot depend on Trek to be a reputable company. I can’t trust employers or employees.

     But I do sincerely appreciate your asking me and if I were younger and dumber I’d work for you in a minute.

     However I see no way that I could help Trek prosper as I don’t believe that businesses that operate in the manner of Trek and the Great Escape should be allowed. I also think that people of businesses that treat Veterans as Trek and the Great Escape have, should be deported.

     But again, thank you for considering me.

Sincerely,

Michael Davis 

PS: Tell Jane thanks, I’m sorry, and I love her.

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

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

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

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

My path has been very unusual.

I will indeed write things that will draw the response:

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

Etcetera.

I invite Veterans particularly, to write back with their stories.
gr8bikn@yahoo.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you certainly make me doubt the existence of yours.

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

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

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

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

Some of those not caring will be cyclists.

Some of those not caring will be policemen.

Some of those not caring will be professing Christians.

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

I want to be Christ-like.

I will however use words that a Marine might use.

Some adjectives are warranted in these testimonials.

I am speaking for some Veterans.

Not all.

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

All in due time.

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

Property has been taken from me, lies have been told about me, and even my brother's problems have been used against me.
My brother's marital problems have been made public.
The court of Mitchell County NC and sheriff's department have aided and abetted crimes.
I say they are crimes.
Paulette McMahan Davis is the criminal causing grief as it is possible.
She has made all of the problems that may occur in a relationship- public.
She has contacted me soliciting my response to use lies against me.
Please, indeed, give me, Michael Davis my time in court with a real court, an honest judge if there is one out there.
All I see are mean people bullying people dressed in robes sitting high above the world.

Because Paulette McMahan Davis has chosen to make my life and even my brothers life public to discredit me I'll say a few things right here that should be provable.
By her own words, repeatedly, "her father, Paul McMahan murdered someone while he was in the military.
Paulette's cousin, Mark McKinney, got his girlfriend pregnant and of course now he's a wonderful preacher (Baptist of course) in Mitchell County.
I contacted Mark about disturbing behavior from Paulette McMahan.
My contacting Mark caused Paulette McMahan Davis to falsely accuse me of of quite a few things.
I'm sure anything I write will be used against me. I'm writing.
She has cemented her position as crook, liar, and con artist.
Paulette Davis continues to send me invitations to be her friend on "Facebook".
I, Michael Davis, do not wish to speak to her, be her friend, or speak to any other criminal.
Paulette McMahan Davis has utterly destroyed my relationship with my daughter Josie Lee Davis.
I have indeed stopped throwing money at anybody who abuses me and my daughter has been doing that.
The falling apart of my daughter and my relationship began at the end of 1999 or before.
I will never have those years again. Can't get them back.
The darkness cast over me and Josie Lee is perpetuated by Paulette McMahan Davis, her daughter Ashley Jane Smith.

No matter how you want to cut this fish up it's going to stink.
As my mother told me, I can't go to hell for you.
We all have some Karma coming, Christian or not.

Mitchell County, North Carolina 1923
The Day Granny Thomas was raped by a black man.
You can read all about this in "Buried In The Bitter Waters" by Elliot Jaspin.
To make this brief I'll digest it a bit.
A black man was accused of raping  Alice Thomas.
Because of this incident (without trial to this point) all blacks were loaded into a train and forced to leave Mitchell County even a chauffeur for an Asheville businessman.
"The only story that gives a sense of what life was like for blacks in Mitchell County was published in the Lenoir Topic in 1886. The ostensible subject of the article is a white man who shoots a black miner working near Bakersville. But soon the story veers off into an anecdote about another shooting that occurred on Big Rock Creek just above Bakersville. The writer recalls how "a man from Rock Creek met two negroes just over the state line" in Tennessee. Without ever explaining why, the writer says the Rock Creek man, "made them put their heads together so he could kill them both with one shot." It apparently did not go well. One man was killed instantly, but the other was unharmed. The killer then bludgeoned the surviving black with his gun and dragged both bodies to the side of the road where he hid them. "In one of those believe it or not" codas, the writer says the bludgeoned man "crawled out and recovered." The moral of the story: "You will hardly ever see Negroes on Big Rock Creek."
The alleged attacker (alledged because most the accounts of racial cleansing had the premise of a black man raping a white woman) was tried in a "proper court of law" (whatever the hell that means- I've never seen a proper court of law-let's talk). After the jury deliberated for five minutes, they settled on electrocution.

Granny Thomas, who lived into her nineties, would sit in a straight-back chair and simply stare at the stove. And as her granddaughter recalls those brief, uncomfortable visits, she starts to talk about what had happened to Granny Thomas. The story she had heard was that Goss (alleged rapist) had come by one house asking for a drink of water. As he did, Granny Thomas, who was walking up the road, encountered Goss. "He was supposed to have raped her," McClellan says.
But there was something more to the story, something passed down in the Thomas family. After the riot, manhunt, trial, execution, and campaign to drive out blacks, McClellan says that doubt lingers that Alice Thomas was actually raped. "My mother thought she must have just got scared."

Gee, you want to discredit Michael Davis so you can treat this veteran like crap?
Mitchell County, NC has no credibility.
Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!

Mitchell County, North Carolina 1999
Michael Davis builds a huge house/inn for his family. All of his bike shop is swallowed in this enterprise.
Paulette McMahan Davis never explains Mitchell County. She never tells how her father and brother kill animals for the heck of it.
She never explains about the KKK living well in this bastion of fools.

Michael is not told anything until it's too late.
Greg Woody of Mitchell County has a favorite story about when he and his brother were playing basketball on the high school team he gave a black athlete a cheap shot while running down court. Greg showed me one of his "family jewels". It's a bill of sale for a slave.
Greg's brother Keith has a story about having a bowel movement in a man's pickup truck because of a disagreement.
Keith towered over Michael Davis as Keith's daughter looked on and said that he would continue hunting on Michael's 5 bald acres of land because he had always done it.
Keith leaned on me. I leaned back. I didn't budge a bit. This man towered above me. He was a foot or more taller. He was possibly 150 pounds heavier.

I say bring back the Indians. They were here first.

I called Mitchell County's finest (again-whatever the hell that means) about dear carcasses being dropped off on my property.

The sheriff's assholes did nothing. I made cement castings of tire prints twice because the Mitchell County Mounties are too stupid and too biased to do their jobs.

I made castings again and followed the tracks in the snow to the perp's home.
The Bicycle Inn was referred to by the local neer-do-wells (the county's full of these turds) as the Bi-sexual Inn.
Excuse me turds but what have you done lately?
Signs for the Bicycle Inn were broken and marred continuously.
I told one parent of the vandalizers that these hoods were certainly no better than the hoodlums of New York or anywhere else.
The parent protested and I said again, "What's the difference?" He bid me adieu.

The fruits above and others have poached and killed deer out of season.
The man who helped make it illegal for hunting deer from a vehicle, occasionally gets a deer head in his mailbox.
Poaching is the real hunting sport in Mitchell County.
The sheriff's dept is aware of these and other crimes but they're choosy about what crimes they investigate.
I guess they have to be re-elected.

Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!
A former Army Ranger moved onto Roses Branch only to be driven out by some turds living on Roses Branch.
Guns were fired near their home with his wife and baby inside.
I wish I could really tell these low-life turds that this Ranger and I could have and damn it, would have put an end to it if the Ranger had wanted.
You fools were too stupid. We just needed to send the mother and baby away.
Sheriff's Dept. What Sheriff's Dept. They're crooked, weak, and really, really stupid. Stupid fools raising more stupid fools.
Yes- I believe in abortion for several age groups.
Nobody wants peace more than Michael Davis. I was a Marine. Semper Fi.

Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!
It's full of bigotry and bullies. Some will start a war if you mention buffers. They would like to screw up any water they can because it's their water at that point.
I could also take you to homes that have no sewage disposal except to let it run in the creek or down a hill.

Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!
Not too long after the Bicycle Inn was up and running Gary Peterson moved in across the road. He kept dogs pinned up. The dogs barked all the time. The dogs could hardly see the light of day. The main breading dog never got out of the dark building it was kept in. The puppies only got out when they were being sold. Boy were they playful when they were shown.
Then immediately they went back in the darkness with the mother.
I'll elaborate more about Gary "Prison Guard" Peterson later.
But one day Gary poked, pushed, and put a lit cigar in Michael's face. That's me. I repeatedly told him to stop it all.
I warned him not to draw on that cigar and put it in my face for the third time.

I warned him that I would "wear his ass out". Gary Peterson is a head or so taller than I and younger.
On his third attempt I hit him in the chest and pushed him toward his electric fence.

I then stopped my attack. I should have taken it to him more.
I'm 5'6 and 150 pounds when heavy. This prison guard who still has a job with the prison is even a turd to his relatives and old school classmates.
This is an indictment against our prison system but by all means "look the other way North Carolinians".
Change North Carolina's motto from " to be rather than to seem" to seem rather than to be".

Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!
Some of the folks have "no democrats parking signs in their driveway.
They enjoy repeating that at one time democrats could not buy land in Mitchell County.

Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!
I'll slow down a bit here and take up something else but let me make this comparison. I had to tell Greg that I'd better not be given a cheap shot unless I was killed.
I told his brother that I could put an end to the vandalism.
I wrote a letter to their father and I explained to him in person that I wasn't going to be bullied by Keith who was the main problem.
I wrote a letter and delivered it to the sheriff's office and laid it on the line.
I wrote another letter to the sheriff's dept. about Gary Peterson.
I told this ding dong of a cop Fox that I would not take the bullying.
I invited him to get all the bullies in Mitchell County together and come to the house and get it over with.
But most of the manly men in Mitchell County are cowards. They won't even let you know they have a problem with you. They sneak. They vandalize while you sleep.
They slip around in the dark while you sleep and play games with you.
Most of Mitchell County's man/girls band together and bully innocent people onto trains taking their lives away.
Nobody in the entire cowardly county came to my aide.

Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!
I'm pretty sure I'm the only one in Mitchell County that has said in Salley's Restaurant that the word "nigger" offends me.

But Paulette McMahan Davis, Sheriff Asshole Fox, and Judge Sissy Girl Lyerly, trivialize my being a veteran of Vietnam.
They trivialize my work ethic. They trivialize that I am a man of honor.
Now- without further adieu, Paulette McMahan Davis, Asshole Fox, and most of Mitchell County can kiss my ass. you sorry pieces of shit.

Mitchell County does have a great fire department though.

Still-
Mitchell County, NC has no credibility!!!!

Once again, nobody wants to see God more than Michael Davis. Nobody wants to serve God more. Nobody wants peace more.
But really, Mitchell County -your people, your governing people, your newspaper, get some guts.

Repent you lying, cheating, lazy, unimaginative bigoted freaks.

Oh, how about let me know who you are and when you'd like to have a little war instead of your cowardly sneaking crap..

Thank you. This message was brought to you by all the people you've screwed and intend to screw.
 

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

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

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

     What is very important is what the emails contain.

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

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

     This, written just above, will be elaborated on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will ruin you financially and emotionally”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find one person I have abused or taken advantage of.

Let’s hear it.

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

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

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

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

“You might go to church,

Sit down in a pew.

Those humans who ain’t human,

Will be sitting right next to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is in charge of screwing with a Veteran.

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

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

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

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

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

I did not vote for President Obama.

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

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

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

He never said anything about Vets to my knowledge.

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.

This alone means 70% of people cannot be trusted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who killed Stanley?”

Why did Stanley move into some woods near Bamberg?

Why did the police follow him there?

Why did he die right there?

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

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

The biggest question:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “That white nigger,” the old man said.

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

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

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

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

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

After several other demonstrations:

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

After several other demonstrations:

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

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

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

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

     “They killed him!” some old Negro screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone may say now,

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

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

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

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

they can frame anybody and they do.

The words above and throughout will demonstrate that

our government

cannot be trusted with a damn thing.

Not for the entire 200 plus years of existence.

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

Black, white, brown, get over it.

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

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

All people deserve respect.

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

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

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

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

Michael

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

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

Shit On A Good Man’s Shoe

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

Always looking for someone to screw.

Better watch out or it could be you.

He can start a big nasty war

While smoking on his big cigar

And driving his fancy car.

Hiding behind his sheriff’s star.

We fought a war for you.

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

You’ll have pride in your SUV

You’ll have stickers for us all to see.

You’re as patriotic as you can be.

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

Send our troops just don’t ask you.

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

You might wear a robe and sit on a throne

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

You can’t leave a good man alone.

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

This is for soldiers both alone and gone.

Support our troops your sticker might say.

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

Go ahead and screw a Vet.

You ain’t seen nothing yet.

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

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

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

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










 

What Really Made You Cry?

What really made you cry?

Did you stick your finger in your eye?

In your mind did a little dog die?

What really made you cry?

You sat on the witness stand

With a bible in your hand.

Then you began to lie.

But what really made you cry?

I’ve seen those crocodile tears.

You’ve been using them now for years.

I saw them in your eyes.

The very day I said goodbye.

You told me how it would be.

How you would ruin me.

So you began to lie.

So what really made you cry?

No one misses the water

Until that well runs dry.

But when you took my child

That’s what really made me cry.

Did you get some memory in your eye?

What really makes you cry?

When you took my child

That’s what really made me cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     In the third paragraph of your request you state:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael Davis

319 Dallas Young Road

Bakersville, NC 28704

828-688-9333

A former Marine and perpetual community servant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My moral dilemma has been this:

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

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

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

     My history with Gary has been approximately this:

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

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

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

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

                                                          Michael Davis

     This is an up date on the neighbor lunatic.

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

     His own father does not communicate with him.

     His own relatives say that if he isn’t fighting with his own relatives or neighbors he isn’t happy. If you need a name I’ll give you one.

     One daughter may be estranged from him in Las Vegas.

     He now has multiple dogs that rarely see much of the light of day. There is a pen for the dogs that I have seen the dogs appreciate twice in all the time they’ve been there. The dogs are closer to my home and “inn” than to his own home. Gary Peterson’s bedroom is on the farthest side of his home. His home is on a hill. Our inn and home is below where the dogs are. It is a natural amphitheater to resonate the sound more proficiently to us.

     The dogs start barking at 6 Am or so after Peterson usually leaves for work. This is very, very common. It irritates my guests and especially me.

     One day when the dogs barked incessantly all day I made a sign saying that the dogs did bark all day. When putting the sign up I saw a figure and shouted as the person was far away and the dogs were barking, “Can you please do something about the dogs barking?” The person soon after I am sure was the daughter that lives on the hill behind the Peterson’s home. I meant to say nothing to her as she has not been the problem. However, because of the dishonesty displayed by Gary Peterson, I believe that this would be used against me falsely. I had to elevate my voice to be heard and what I’ve explained was all that I said.

     When in Walmart, with my daughter, lately I encountered the daughter and her husband. Without any physical proof, I believe that the husband would have given me a “cheap shot”. You Mr. Fox should drive down tho the home of the daughter and son-in-law and at least explain my letter, description of the account, and assure them that I have no animosity toward them.

     You should also explain that in no way will I tolerate a cheap shot or any other physical contact from any member of this family. I absolutely will not wait on a sheriff’s department that will not act in my defense. I will protect myself. So you had better explain that I will have to be killed. If rendered unconscious and happen to wake up from my injuries I will put a stop to this idiotic behavior that this country, state, and county allows through an adopted “cowboy attitude”, and absolute negligence in being responsible and just.

     Gary Peterson has had relatives squeal tires in front of the inn and our home. He and the son-in-law ride 4-wheelers on the pavement and without helmets. There are 4-wheelers on this road all the time.

     At some point, after years of this abuse to me, my family, and guests, I will return the sounds emanating from these poor caged animals. When the Petersons tire of this return of noise, what will Gary Peterson do? Will the situation mushroom to violence again?

     I will give you the truth which you will not get from these people. I will defend myself and my family and I will stop this cruel behavior. I believe in God. I am a Vietnam Vet. I defended this country at the DMZ in Vietnam. I wasn’t a coward then I am not a coward now. I will stop this foolishness where my government has turned its head. 

     You should get into your car and drive to Mr. Peterson and explain that I fear God and nobody else and God has authorized me to put an end to it.

     Once again, I have obeyed the law. I intend to obey the law. I have fought for this country. I have devoted my life to making a better world and not offend my neighbor. I have turned the other cheek too often.

     I am speaking the truth. The truth you will not get from this man. There is no way that he could tell the truth about putting a lit cigar in my face. There is no way that he could tell the truth about his night of moving in making noise, being rude, taunting me and having his relatives to do likewise. He has actually said to me that I raised hell the night he moved in at 1:30 AM. I did no such thing. I said, “Could I please beg ya’ll to hold the noise down” and later said offered to help him with moving in. You are not going to get the truth out of this man.

     I will tell you the truth. I will defend myself and my family and will not tolerate bullies. You can pass this on to everybody in this world: I will not be bullied nor would I allow anyone else to be bullied in my sight. Now you people follow your conscience. I am afraid of no one. My life is toward its end and I have lived far too long anyway.

    The fact that this man is employed in the prison system at all is blight on your law enforcement agencies and further deteriorates the trust in our government as a whole. As a responsible citizen I feel the need to make copies of these letters and distribute them to all businesses in the state. Do I need to? Will you at least pretend to be for the people, all of the people?

Michael Davis

PS: I have a lot more to say.

April Fools Day at the DMV 2009

    Yesterday, April 1^st, was a priceless day with the NCDMV. NC’s tag office is privately owned/ran. It’s not part of the state government. Their computers are tied into the states computers to take away privileges but not always to help you. I learned this months ago when I had to get insurance I thought I had and didn’t. Right up front the tag office knew this info with their computer. I wasn’t issued a tag. I had to turn my tags in to the tag office. I had to get insurance and send proof in to the NCDMV. The insurance company assured me they didn’t need to fax this info to the state. They always emailed it in. Well they were wrong. So after waiting a period I went by the tag office to get at least the temporary tag as I await a hearing. I was told the proof of my insurance was not sent by the insurance co. to the NCDMV. So I had to make more time consuming phone calls about this. I had to restate several times to the insurance company that they would have to indeed fax the proof of coverage to the DMV.

     I made 1 extra trip to my home to get the insurance papers because their computer at the tag store isn’t tied into the NCDMV to help you. It’s only tied in to take your privileges, delay them, and have you running up and down the highway spending your time, burning up gas that we’ve been fighting wars over, and getting your knickers in a twist. All needlessly. Frustration and distrust are embedded in innocent people. I made a mistake. But I see mistakes and waste and indeed cover-ups. Bad government.

     My hearing was April 24^th 2009 I’m pretty sure. It doesn’t matter about my accuracy here because nobody cares anyway. Things will not be better for me if I accurately record every moment at each time interval with a name corresponding with the event. The NCDMV is not a person and “it” just doesn’t care.

     So April 24^th was my hearing. This goes back to Oct/Nov of 2008. Please tell me if this doesn’t calculate to be 5 – 6 months.

     I didn’t pass my hearing. No surprise there. The government is never wrong. I went in to the DMV tag store at the North Gate Mall. I turned my temporary paper tag in a day or so after my hearing as I was informed to do. The red faced, light haired, round man took the plate and told me that I could sign up for my permanent tag right then if I wanted to. I told him that my paper work said I had to wait 30 days. He said his computer told him I could tag up instantly after the payment of my $100 fine. I showed him my paperwork that contradicted his computer. He implied that his computer trumped my paper work. It was the end of the month and my money didn’t make it to the end of it.

     I came back the following week when I had money- April 1^st. Go figure. I asked for plates and was prepared to pay the fine. Well now I can’t because I waited to long. I  would be told this later by someone at the NCDMV as well. Within days or an hour- what?-I lost the window of opportunity to tag up. If someone is hesitant to believe what I say my hearing was taped for maybe educational purposes. What do you say we lose those- wink wink.

     I’m informed by the tag store clerk that also I’d have to wait for 30 days after I turned my tag in. The lady was actually fumbling through another untruth for a moment like I hadn’t turned in my metal tag. I turned that one in months ago to the same red-faced, light haired, round fellow. I reassured the lady that I had turned all tags in. She reassured me I hadn’t. I told her I turned them into the red-faced light haired man that sat next to her. She eventually said he was out to lunch. Immediately I felt like agreeing with her that he probably was out to lunch.

     I spoke to the manager of the circus and she said I would have to call Raleigh. Alright. Another who knows how long with phone minutes? I should go to a friend’s home and use his land line for a local call. I stopped at home to drop off freezer food. Here I made the call to the DMV.

     Yes I missed the window of opportunity to get my tags. This made no sense.

     Also I did not turn my tag in. Well let me say this about not turning my tag in. I parked my car at my friend’s home, used a screw driver from his garage, removed the tag, left the screw driver in the floor of my car, left my car, and borrowed his truck. My car has been parked at his home ever since. His truck has been parked at my home ever since. He saw me do this. Another friend and neighbors could vouch.

     The lady I talked to at the DMV told me to go back to the North Gate Mall tag store and have them fill out a form called MVR18A and turn it in. I did write “Kim’s” name down. It doesn’t matter. Who cares? Things will not get better. These pubic servants are entrenched for retirement and will make less waves the closer they get to their retirement.

     That very next morning I went to the tag store at North Gate Mall. I immediately asked the red-faced, light haired man why he didn’t give me a receipt and record my having turned my plate in. This conversation then took a right angle into “Don’t you yell at me. I don’t have to do anything for you.” I didn’t yell at you. “Yes you did.” I may have tried to keep up with his voice but there was no yelling. But this was the diversion they needed to take the focus off their/his mistake and turn me into the unruly malcontent. There is no doubt that this group of workers would band together and make me into the liar.

     The manager asked me what form I was supposed get filled out. I said it was for a lost or stolen tag. I had to get my paperwork out and read off MVR18A. Now if the manager doesn’t know what form it is, then yes, I can certainly question her leadership ability.

     I’m not paranoid. I’ve been treated as a criminal for making a mistake. I believed because I gave my estranged wife thousands of bucks, she has the $500,000 home, I’ve been stripped of almost all property illegally, I’ve done nothing to no one and expected my insurance notifications or NCDMV notifications to be sent to me by my insurance company which is owned by my ex-wife’s cousin who lives across the road from her.      When I contacted the Cardinal Insurance Company I was told that I could not be reached that no one knew where I lived. That’s a lie. I’ve received legal and illegal papers since I left. The insurance agency owner indeed lives across the road. They spoke about my insurance I’m very sure.

     Between all of the insurance companies, the NCDMV, the tag store out at the mall, and all the people with these entities, mistakes have been made, lies told, and yes indeed cover-ups have been orchestrated to smear the truth which is the NCDMV and too much of our government is oppressive and wastes the money and time spent by citizens who want to do good.

     I made a mistake. I’ve gone 6 months without permanent tags. I did what I was supposed to do every October. I’ve paid for my error for 6 months.

     When will the insurance and NCDMV people pay for their mistakes?

     Oh yeah, I wasn’t allowed to pay the $100 fine yesterday. But in fairness you shouldn’t be trusted with anything. You need a camera recording all of this.

                                               Sincerely, Michael Davis  8425900

Hello Sears.

My name is Michael Davis

319 Dallas Young Road.

Bakersville, NC 28705

I am owner of the Bicycle Inn in Bakersville.

I’d like to share my shopping experiences with you.

For months, before December of 2005, I tried to get the correct pulley for my mower.

I received the wrong pulley and tried to convince your personnel that it was indeed wrong.

I would mention things such as the pulley I need is 5 inches. The pulley you sent is less than four.

I said my pulley was above the mandrel.

I went to the store in Spruce Pine, NC to get help. I didn’t get any.

I didn’t buy my mower mail-order.

I expect things to go awry with ordering but I didn’t expect the grief that ensued.

I didn’t expect the people from whom I bought a mower to not help me.

I bought this mower from Spruce Pine.

I was told that the store at Spruce Pine didn’t carry parts.

Not true. I bought the mandrel from that store.

I’ve bought many belts for it.

This part I needed was a $9 part.

It would have been better for the manager of that store to invest the $9 to get me the correct part.

Months went by and I didn’t get the pulley.

Perhaps you should include 1 lawnmower mechanic to sit with your phone operators.

It would have been better if Sears had taken a $9 loss to keep me as a customer.

May 10, 2005 I had a kidney stone removed.

A stent was inserted for more than 10 days.

Ask anybody who has had a stent in their urethra about what I’m about to say.

With a stent in place, you must always be near a restroom.

I had to urinate every 12 minutes or so, very painfully.

Friday the 14^th I received the last straw.

Sears sent me a pulley, not 5 inches in diameter but almost a foot.

My grass was about a foot tall.

I needed the correct part.

I called Sears and begged them to tell me where I could go to exchange the wrong parts and get the right part and cut some grass before my guests arrived.

I was told to go to Sears at the Asheville Mall in Asheville, NC.

This was a drive of an hour and a half.

I asked if I could go to Johnson City, TN to get my part.

The drive is 45 miles to Johnson City, TN compared to 65 for the Asheville, NC.

It may not matter to you executives until you get a stent of your own.

I was told that I could not. I was told that there is no service dept. in Johnson City, TN.

I was able to stop twice to urinate on the drive over to the Asheville store.

The way the stent works for me is that you urinate very frequently but very little.

Fire and jagged metal are coming out.

The longer you wait the more it hurts and your kidney feels as though it’s in a vise.

It takes a while as when you’re done, you must just lean against a wall with a feeling of jalapeño peppers up there.

Drinking my favorite beverage of coffee was out of the question.

Allow me to reiterate: It is extremely painful for a very long time and you want to do it as little and as soon as possible.

Upon getting to Sears in Asheville I had to “go” immediately.

The request and the time to service me went on forever if you have a stent.

I walked by the televisions that were near the restrooms.

I needed a television and a power strip at least.

Finally a very young woman who claimed to be the manager told me I was not going to get the part at that Sears store.

I pleaded to no avail.

Where did this woman send me?

Johnson City, Tennessee

Measure the distance.

Bakersville to Asheville to Johnson City to Bakersville.

I made the full circle.

Not only was I sold the wrong parts repeatedly, was told I had the right part when I held them in my hands, I was told to drive hours out of the way to the wrong store, treated like a huge problem by your manager, spent a good part of a tank of gas, a complete waste of hours and hours of time, I got to drive in a terrible position for having a stent and I got to experience much more pain than I would have at home. We could go over the wasted phone calls to other stores in hopes of finding a solution.

So it cost me a lot of money and time.

Of course it gets harder to find a responsible corporation that would adhere to “pleasing the customer”.

Instead, the customers are spending too money in trying to have the right stuff and warrantees. We are indeed wasting too much fuel.

Sears- it affects us all.

You sent me on a journey that was unnecessary.

You cost me money for gas.

You cost me time.

You cost our planet resources that from what I hear, are valuable.

My deduction? Sears doesn’t care a flip for resources, the environment, or me.

Let me explain how this may directly affect Sears.

I will not buy that TV from you or any other.

I will not buy that surge protector.

I won’t be back for tools.

I will always try to shop somewhere else until I do without completely.

You will never have the opportunity to treat me in this fashion again.

This story may be repeated until I bore people away. Great publicity!

You are immortalized and your young store manager as well.

I have never had any trouble from Wal-Mart. When I have taken things back, in any city no matter where it was purchased, I have been treated fairly.

I refuse to shop where employees are rewarded better for treating me badly.

Let me say also that I explained first hand what I was going through just as I am now.

You can bet that I will never forget my quest for the correct $9 mower pulley from Sears while I was embedded with a stent back to my kidney and peeing on myself.

Maybe your upper management can come up with the real price of the pulley that cost you all my business for the rest of my life. If it retailed for $9, did it cost you $5 or $4 0r less? Is Sears full of cowards and robots afraid of standing up and goose-stepping to bad ideas? You’ve answered these questions for me. Shame on Sears and their entire organization. Fire the bad policy makers and start saving Sears before it’s too late for the good people that refuse to pass the buck.

This is now November 2006. Yes, it’s Christmas time again. Since you’re already the grench, you need not expect me to show up at one of your stores.

This letter will also appear on my website.

You can’t say I haven’t done the right thing.

I pleaded with your manager to do the right thing.

Thanks for the memories.

My name is

Michael Davis

Vietnam Veteran 1968-1969

Marine Corps

Hey Darling.

I really mean that. You are my darling.

Please don't surprise me once in a while with a statement about vets, cycling, and not making a relationship.

Please. I don't care what you read I will not fit into the mold someone else creates.

You state that we don't have a relationship. It’s a surprise. Well anybody can "out of the blue" surprise someone with a statement like that. That is what I term an emotional wave you're riding.

You and I have a relationship. there are many parents who work overseas, away from home, long hours, etc. These people don't, can't have what we have.

I am here. If we don't have a relationship it is your fault at least as much as mine. you are in school and are very busy.

I have put up with terrorism from your mother for years.

I have been driven away as in run off from the home that I built. I was not allowed to cut firewood for you my daughter. You have no idea. Judge me by how I treat you. I want you to have money or whatever I can give you. You, nor Ashley, nor your mother could ever put in the work that I have. Never. I can't get you to pick up after yourself. You refuse to close the cat food bag. You tell me you will do a room and you don't. This is yours and Ashley's inheritance. When there is a dirty sheet or towel it should be washed. I spent all day yesterday smearing cement on the walls in the shop to strengthen and pretty them up. It seems that someone could have taken the sheets and started a wash. I expect someone to "drop in" for a room. This is money to pay off the mortgage or maybe buy gas.

Do you and Ashley think I've planted the trees an stuff that will take 20 years to grow for my benefit? I won't live that long.

This is your inheritance. Could ya'll act like that is what it is?

Could you appreciate what I've done and show it?

How many of your schoolmates would like being in this home instead of the home they're in? Why is it always something negative about cycling?

Every sport that is in your school is temporary. Be an individual as you already are. You can't exercise once a week or twice a week to do any good.

Please don't get hung up on a relationship with another kid right now. I've found out many times that relationships are too temporary.

Even if you marry. Don't get hung up.

Girls hang out with moms. I don't have all the knowledge that your mother has about girls. I do know that men and boys are blamed for just about everything going bad in relationships. I didn't invent breaking up and I resent the slur on males all the time. People are stupid and people do stupid things. It ain't just men as I'm accustomed to your mother saying.

I hope that all of you can actually find out what being a team-mate really means. You work with somebody. In my efforts in working as and promoting a team I have been slammed. I don't have an agenda other that helping you grow straight and tall.

If all of you think I'm not doing enough or that I am holding you back or if I'm not what you want in a father please let me know.

I absolutely will not be your source of displeasure.

Please reread and repeat- I will not be your source of displeasure. If I am I will leave.

Instead of saying something to shock and awe me, join in. Throw the sheets and towels into the washer. Help me help you.

Don't tell me I haven't tried to have a relationship with you. If you believe that let me know and I won't bother you. If I didn't love you more than the bicycle and the sun itself I'd be thousands of miles from here possibly. Have you paid any attention at all. What are the fruits of my labor?

Don't bother me with that psycho-babble anymore. I will not fit some mold you read about.

I am your father. I have proved myself to you if you'll open your eyes a little more. Please give me respect.

I love you. Your father, MD

Get Yourself A Lawyer

Riding into the setting sun

Roy Rogers didn’t need one.

Gene Autry had his gun.

But you had better get you one.

You’d better get yourself a lawyer.

They’ll be coming after you.

They might need another condo

Or just another man to screw.

They’ll be wearing three piece suits

Or dresses with high heeled shoes.

If you don’t get yourself a lawyer

You’ll see you’ve got a lot to lose.

You may have been a soldier for your country

But be country boy or not

If you don’t get yourself a lawyer

They’ll take everything you’ve got.

They have papers in there attaches

They’ll screw you in a thousand ways.

You’ll be wondering what’s the beef?

As they throw poop right from their briefs.

I’m not smart but I can tell.

You’d better teach your children well

Or they might take a trip to hell.

They’d better get themselves a lawyer.

Better not wait another day.

They might have an IRA.

Might be a member of the NRA.

But they’re living in the USA.

Better make some money cause you’re going to pay.

We’d better get ourselves a lawyer.

Long before we call it quits.

Better get ourselves a good one.

Maybe Allen Dersherwitz.

If you don’t spend some money

Your butt’s gonna look real funny.

You might find yourself in jail.

American justice is for sale.

Hi ____.

     I was a bit alarmed at your response to my letter.

I told the truth. You also told the truth. You advised me to get help.

You stopped short though. You didn’t include most of the world.

I actually do get help. I’ve needed help for a long time.

One thing a head doc may tell a patient is that they have the right to feel the way they do.

What matters most is how a “patient” reacts to situations.

Here are a few responses to situations I have had.

When my high school coach choked me I didn’t respond at all.

When I saw three kids living in a house alone (I can prove this) I bought them a TV with my first job out of HS.

When I found out my government had sold out the youth of this nation with the Vietnam War, I did nothing. Shouldn’t I have died protesting? I went to work.

I was mentally repressing and forgetting (I thought).

When I was denied jobs because of my appearance, I did nothing. I had nothing but honesty. Long hair, honesty, and a pair of overalls will get you a modest paying job that women don’t care for. Go figure.

When I called for a date, a parent might say, “don’t call here again”. I still had my honesty.

When I was arrested for something that I did not do and spent time on the county chain gang, I resisted nothing. When a fellow prisoner was attacked by yellow jackets, I picked them off while they were still swarming. Helping others while disregarding my own safety is a trait I have never and will never relinquish.

When I needed mental health and help and went to the VA hospital I was locked up with people who would crap in the showers among other wild activities. When I resisted after time I was sedated with the “Buffalo shot” of thorazine, I got out miraculously by hiding the medications under my tongue and saying, “I was really screwed up but I’m getting much better now”.

When the local people laughed in my face, I said nothing and did nothing.

When the ladies of the church said, “We know you love the Lord, but it says in the Bible that it’s a sin for a man to wear long hair”, I said nothing. I didn’t say, “It also says that women should be silent in the churches and if they have a question have them ask it when they get home”, which is also in the Bible.

When the rest of the world was wasting oil back in the 70s I believed in the bicycle.

I rode everywhere, without instruction of any kind, physical, mechanical, or otherwise. There was nobody else in my world that cycled.

When my long awaited first wife cheated on me and left me within a few months, I did nothing. When I was (once again) slandered I did nothing. When she went to the ATM and then inside the bank to remove all of “our” money. I did nothing.

When local rednecks laughed at and criticized most ethnics and even Willie Nelson

I put a couple bucks in the juke box and played Willie Nelson songs. Maybe I didn’t set the world afire but it wasn’t a cowardly move by somebody who had definitely wanted a low profile.

When my employer lied about me, I knew then that he had lied about another employee. When I was refused employment insurance and found out that my employer had said I stole, I did nothing.

When my employer harassed his competitor I went to work for the competitor.

When I broke my clavicle on the Assault on Mitchell I had another bike and clothes brought to the hospital and I finished. I’ve finished with the flu, broken ribs, being overweight, and having mysterious illnesses. Like in every situation I have tried to do the right thing.

This could on for a long time and yes I’ve made a lot of decisions but before you or anyone else brings up my shortcomings, please remember that if this were a chess match, I’d be twenty moves ahead on that and some other issues.

When my current wife lied about me and to me, I did nothing.

When she struck me (more than one occasion), I did nothing.

When I was driven from my home (more than one occasion) I left.

When I cut firewood, for at least my daughter, I was driven away and told not to come back.

When my welcome wore out due to a lack of federal reserve notes coming into the home, I obeyed, left, and refused to be the source of displeasure for anybody.

Please look at this letter more humorously than to be hurtful because I do not wish to hurt anybody. I just think, that’s all.

So yes ____, I have needed help. I get help. I have hurt nobody. Maybe you and some others can delay judgment on me and others until you get more facts. Maybe some day folks will actually judge others by the content of their characters instead of a flashed image you want to see. Why have I felt the way I have? What makes a person think the way I do? I’m 56 years old. With all the info at my disposal I see no other way for me to think. I have the right to see things as they really are. It’s my reaction to the circumstances that have more weight.

When kids came to me to fix their bikes with no money I’ve done it.

When parents said their kids didn’t need brakes, I fixed the brakes for free.

I’ve raised thousands for Cystic Fibrosis.

I’ve raised thousands for the emergency medical services of Mitchell Co.

When my neighbor pulled tricks on me, I did nothing.

When he cranked his loud machinery early in the mornings, I did nothing.

When he dug up a tree I planted, I did nothing.

When he moved barking dogs next to the “Inn” I did nothing.

When he towered over me (he’s a head taller) and verbally abused me, I did nothing.

When he pushed me, I did nothing.

When he poked me I did nothing.

When he put his lit cigar in my face thrice I hit him in the chest and pushed him toward his own electric fence.

When he looked stunned, I did nothing but told him he would not win this fight.

When he looked for a weapon I did nothing.

When he got his gun, I did nothing.

When I received a letter from the sheriffs association, for donations, I wrote a scathing letter to the sheriff’s dept. about the nepotism that is rampant in his officiating. I spoke of the former army ranger that was driven from his home by local terrorists. I spoke of how this ranger and I could have stopped it. But I did nothing.

Now while the entire planet wants to win the lottery so that they can ignore the plight of the rest of the world, you think I need help.

While, it seems, every woman is looking for that special lawyer, doctor, engineer, telemarketer, or whatever professional with a retirement account, I am supposed to believe what? I am to believe that from my past experiences I will find happiness with another human? While I love women and want to believe in true love, honesty, and devotion, I am not to consider the past? I am heterosexual and I adore women. I love the illusion of a woman.

Isn’t that a bit like listening to only one of two sides of political agendas and their propaganda and voting out of fear that works in the favor of the two political parties that are bought by the rich?

When did we have a cycling president?

When did we have an alternative energy president?

Yes ____, I need help. It would better serve everybody’s interest if I disregarded my thoughts and convictions, took some thorazine, and blended into this healthy world that you see.

Things are not what they seem. Even this letter is not what it seems.

You are very intelligent but don’t let your education get in the way of your learning.

It is the preconceived notions that keep us at war. “There will always be wars and rumors of war”.

I may not be as dumb as we think I am. I believe that I know what prompted your concern. And knowing how concerned you are about most things I’m sure that you’ve confronted the AMA about the lack of medical care in this country and the world by folks who claim to adhere to the Hippocratic Oath. But while you’re at it, see if you can get somebody to look at my back since I can’t get it done even with the VA.

Maybe we can talk to the Docs who have thought that I just came into the emergency rooms with different broken bones and ailments and just decided to not help at all.

Maybe we can get the docs at the VA to not misdiagnose me with shingles and give me the wrong medication for most of a year which you are a witness to.

Maybe we can find out why my paperwork to change docs at the VA was discarded.

Maybe we can get medical care for everybody.

Maybe we can toss out every insurance extortionist in the country.

I guess we won’t do that because there are too many people with great insurance (until they have a claim, of course) and too many people in power to care. Never mind that an insurance company’s job is to avoid paying out any money at all.

Maybe we can get lawyer’s to be honest and maybe when they become politicians they can make laws for everyone instead of corporations, the wealthy, and themselves.

Maybe we can get justice out of our legal system. I’ve lost every time I’ve been in court.

How is that possible?

Maybe we can get the Masons and other secret societies to not influence justice on the local as well as the national scene.

Maybe we could convince all of America that this is true.

Maybe we could convince America to not sort everyone out by political party, race, sex, religion, etc.

Maybe we could get America to realize that it is a violent, redneck country that is ready

To pounce on any other country while throwing objects at cyclists and running them off our highways.

I have actually tried to live a life that could be exemplary.

I know that God was a vegetarian (King James Version) according to Genesis.

I know that Jesus said to pray like this:

Our Father which art in Heaven,

Hallowed be thy name,

Thy Kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

On Earth as it is in Heaven.

When we pray this we are hoping that Earth will resemble what we wish heaven to be.

Perhaps I have over reacted to your call. You seemed to want the call short.

I guess I wanted my letter short. I tried to answer your call

.

I just can’t imagine my name being brought up to someone and you never saying anything but, “he needs help”.

I just hope that you will also say, “Michael may have problems but he will do what’s right regardless of the outcome. He will sacrifice his own happiness, even his life to make things better”.

Please judge me by your interactions with me, not what you might believe from short communications or from other people.

I am not telling most of my life.

I will tell you that I am the biggest success story that I know of.

I’ve been told that I couldn’t do a lot of the things I’ve done.

What has been a big turn-around is that I no longer will pretend, for long, to be what others see me as, want me to be, or want me to see myself as.

I will not be what you have seen me to be.

Before you tell someone what you see me as, please think long about it.

Nobody has sought honesty as I have.

Nobody has been more willing to do the right thing.

Nobody has sought God more than I.

These explanations are just sand on the beach and it’s quite a beach.

Thanks for being a friend and guest at my daughter’s inheritance.

If you ever need anybody to do the right thing, let me know.

Happy trails, Michael

Starting Over At Wal-Mart

Starting over at Wal-Mart.

They’re open all night.

They’ll have what you need

When love isn’t right.

You can get almost anything.

And the prices are great.

Starting over at Wal-Mart

When love turns to hate.

Get some towels and sheets.

So many colors to choose.

Starting over at Wal-Mart

When there’s no more to lose.

You might get some beer,

Toothpaste, shampoo, and soap.

These little things will help,

When you have no more hope.

You’ll need a broom and a dust pan.

They have all your house wares.

This is just the beginning,

When she no longer cares.

You’ll be shopping a while,

So choose a good cart.

You’ll be getting all new stuff

Except for that old broken heart.

You won’t know what it takes

When your heart really breaks.

You might see a friend

Who knows your world’s at an end.

You won’t know what to do

When it all crashes on you.

When you feel your eyes tear

You might go back for more beer.

No, you aren’t very smart

Starting over at Wal-Mart.
 

The Fire At The County Jail

What could have happened in our little town

So odd and profound to have rumors abound?

Eight men died in the foulest of smoke.

They struggled to breathe but in the end they would choke.

Imprisoned in a crude, dilapidated jail,

Any reasonable inspection it should easily fail.

The guards and deputies tried to free every inmate

But nothing they did could alter their fate.

The Bakersville fire and rescue answered the call.

They were trained and prepared to give it their all.

It was darker than night as they ran to the cells.

Their oxygen tanks filtered the smoke and smells.

The jail was a maze, there were too many keys.

Why was their job hampered by obstacles such as these?

They pulled and carried the inmates out.

They tried their best without a doubt.

They preformed CPR doing all they could do

Hoping that all would eventually pull through.

They ran back in to do it again,

So I believe it to be another great sin

To even begin to offend our valiant women and men.

No one should have to defend the bravest of people on whom we depend.

I’ve heard remarks about the dead.

I’ve heard things that shouldn’t be said.

Remove the cinder from your eye.

Know that but for the grace of God go you or I.

Some were young men for heavens sakes

Beginning their lives and making mistakes.

I have too much that I want to say

Like who put these people into harms way?

The jail was inspected?

I say the truth was rejected.

And it’s way too obvious that lives weren’t respected.

That’s not true some might say?

It’s plain to see our leaders looked the other way.

It can’t be so some say to me.

You’re certainly barking up the wrong tree.

But I’ve been around and I’m telling you

They looked the other way, it’s sad but true.

It’s not very popular to stand your ground

When you see that our leaders haven’t been sound.

Almost two million died because of Vietnam.

It was all for money and not many people gave a damn.

So some try to point to where the blame lies

But I smell a smell that’s drawing flies.

Don’t point that finger and give us a curse.

Not one firefighter made that fire worse.

If they hadn’t trained and done what was right

They may not have saved 12 people that night.

That jail was bad for 50 years

And that’s why Mitchell County is full of tears.

So please don’t point your finger and think you’re more morally fit.

For this is just another Peyton Place and you’re all full of Harper Valley shit.

The former sheriff of Mitchell County refused to give the firefighters a "walk-thru" in case there was a fire.
The firefighters couldn't see and had no idea what the jail looked like as they worked in a smoke filled darkness.
Sheriffs!
There was a cover-up about this tragedy.
























This is how a large part of America works:
 Let's say this doctor has his Cayman Island account shielding his money from taxation,
Upon telling this doctor, that I was diagnosed with PTSD,
the doctor says, "I don't know how we (America) will pay for all this."

.

.

 email Michael at gr8bikn@yahoo.com