A while Back Paul wrote a piece about his Uncle Walter. Our friend Suz wrote a passionate letter to a future daughter in law you should read too. My friend Dr. F wrote a letter to the son like you that he never had. I now find myself in a similar place, for I am now the uncle who is going to write to his nephew.
To my beloved young nephew, T:
I was not there yesterday at your christening, Tiger. I just couldn’t be.
See, while your parents were busy trying to ensure your soul is saved, I have been busy since around the time your were born trying to ensure your soul is not killed by the current misandric society.
T, I’ve been fighting for a long time have, made your parents very aware of the current situation, but they choose not to act. Like so many participants in today’s society. Maybe they’re afraid, maybe they’re blind, maybe a little of both. They love you and you should love them, but today they walk on by ignoring the elephant in the room. Nobody’s perfect I guess.
I had intended on attending your christening, T, but after a conversation with your father (my brother) about 36 hours beforehand, it became obvious it just wasn’t going to happen.
See, at some point in time of the conversation we talked about how I was in court on January 11 2013. I wasn’t really there for a men’s rights issue exactly, but I was there for a justice issue.
I find the two often are intermingled.
Still I slapped an AVfM sticker on my chest and walked in ready to observe the proceedings from the gallery. This wasn’t the first time I was in attendance for the proceedings, I’ve been watching them since about the end of October, 2012.
In the first instance I was quietly sitting in the gallery taking notes, as is my right to do, when the Justice of the Peace pointed to me in the gallery and asked me to identify myself.
T, I don’t know what the courts are going to be like when you get older, but this is an unheard of action engaged in by a member of the judiciary.
I’m trying to make sure you never experience this Orwellian justice system.
However T, even though I was somewhat fearful I stood up and identified myself for the court. The court reporter could not hear me and asked if I would step across the bar to the podium and identify myself. I did.
I addressed the court, identified myself and then informed Worship Baker he had in fact made a mistake at law. I also informed him that I had made the very same argument my friend was making in a higher court in this very same courthouse and the right in question was upheld.
The hearing was shut down shortly thereafter, T.
The next day, I also attended, T and this time there were six officers in attendance. T, I can’t be sure they were all there for me, but I recognized a few of them. At least two of them had threatened me with physical violence and or death before.
I am not sure if your parents will tell you this, T, but I was lucky enough to have had instilled in me a sense of right and wrong as well as courage by your Grandfather Bill.
Your father unfortunately was a victim of your Grandmother’s parental alienation, and he suffered from this abusive syndrome she left him with. It’s something I hope you never experience. I will give you one example, T, just so you know what your father and I had to endure for many of our formative years.
Your Grandfather would always say to your father and me “love your mother boys, she is the only one you have,” but your grandmother would say “your father is a good for nothing rotten son of a bitch.”
These are terrible lies for sons to hear about there father from their mother day in and day out. Thank God I was strong enough to ignore them, or your father might never have had a chance to make amends with your Grandfather on his deathbed.
But I digress. Let me get back to the reason why I was not in attendance for your christening.
Like I was saying, I was in court for a friend and witnessing the courts break the very laws they are governed by, breaking the laws to ensure a conviction. It was my third time in attendance.
This time there were four police officers T.
There was the arresting officer who was there to be a witness for the prosecution. The other three officers were as follows: one other regular beat duty police officer, a female. A Sargent, male, and a female plain clothes detective.
T, at the time I was wondering in my mind why all these police officers were in attendance, but I am somewhat used to it now. The corrupt and/or ideologically driven ones are a danger to honest, moral folks. I am a product of their crimes against human rights.
To the honest police officers, hats off for doing a proper job, you have my respect.
But they all scare the shit out of me T. People in their profession have, via multiple acts of trauma, given me Post Traumatic Stress disorder.
When the proceedings that day were shutting down for lunch, T, the judiciary informed the defense that I could sit at the defense table. My friend and I thought this was going to be a good thing, but unfortunately I found out later I was only permitted to take notes and not whisper any direction or advice to my friend.
When we came back from lunch I, as usual, was civil and polite and even made a few jokes. I didn’t care about the gang-like police presence.
They added another Sargent after lunch for a grand total of five officers in attendance.
I started up a conversation with the Sargent who was there for the morning session. I noticed before lunch he had left his empty plastic cup sitting by the door when recess was called, and now he was coming up to the defense table to get another glass.
I said to him, “hey no littering in the courts, I seen your glass sitting there on the floor when we left for lunch. Have some respect for the courts,” I chuckled. I had already assumed the cleaning staff had picked it up.
The Sargent replied “I guess the cleaning lady must have picked it up.”
I then said to the sargent, “I guess since it was taken with out consent you should be charging them with 322 of the Criminal Code of Canada theft.”
The Sargent kind of agreed in theory and got the joke. But here is where I started to work my activism, T.
See I then went on to say “322 of the Criminal Code doesn’t really bother me so much but 380 does; that would be fraud. Or 139, which would be obstruction of justice, does bother me, and I see a ton of it engaged in by the Domestic Violence courts and the family courts here in Hamilton.”
At this point in time, T, the uniformed female officer started sounding like a chihuahua, yipping along, mimicking me while I was reciting certain sections of the Criminal Code and the facts I know.
I then got up out of my seat walked back to the Sgt and went to give him an AVfM sticker and introduce myself as well.
I know this is not exactly what I would like to do, T, you never know which one is going to be corrupt, but it is the right thing to do.
The feminists, T, are a cowardly, hateful lot who will do some nasty things to those who oppose their dictatorship. One thing, T, I am acutely aware of is that I could end up on the receiving end of a false police call where it is alleged I am violent.
When that happens, the police show up guns drawn and you stand a very real chance of loosing your uncle.
Now when I arrived where the Sargent was sitting I informed him that I am a local men’s rights activist for the area and I fly the AVfM flag high with pride. I was floored by what the Sgt told me then, T.
He said “No thanks I know exactly who you are.”
So how is it that this Sargent already knew me?
I’m gonna say it’s because I make them worried, and they have good reason to be. When you trample on my rights on the basis of sex, you trample on all men’s rights and I ain’t fucking putting up with it.
And more and more men and good women are saying the same thing about the misandry in today’s society.
So I went back to the defense table and sat down. The Crown next spoke up and the exchange went something along the lines of me delving further into the fraud in the Domestic Violence courts.
I informed the Crown about the last general social survey and how 6.4% of women and 6% of men suffered abuse at the hands of their significant other. How that number breaks down to 601,000 women and 585,000 men. A difference of 16,000.
But how there are 593 women’s abuse shelters in Canada, and not one for men.
The Crown informed me that I should open a shelter for men.
I then informed the Crown about Earl Silverman’s plight for government funding of his men’s abuse shelter and how he currently is in the Alberta Human Rights Court right now.
The conversation then took a turn towards the Charter of Rights and Freedoms and human rights, T.
I asked the Crown if he remembered what our former Prime Minister Diefenbaker said about our human rights. I then recited it, most likely with a little paraphrasing, but I said it as best I can.
See T, ole Dief, he was a wise man. He knew long time ago that when human rights were universal in Canada that there would be those who would try to destroy them, so he gave us Canadians a little heads up about it.
He said “we must vehemently protect these human rights from enemies within and outside our borders.” and I added on at the end that “I see lots of its enemies to human rights in these courts.”
While I said this I looked directly at lil’ Ms. Chihuahua.
I know she was trying to take me off my game or insult me but her words and yappy lil; chihuahua voice did absolutely nothing. She was just another garden variety bully with a badge. Dealt with them before, no doubt I will deal with them again.
When I told all of this to your father, T, he was concerned.
He wasn’t concerned for his brother, or for men in general, or really about you. He was concerned about my activism, and that me talking about how misandric the world is today for men and boys would make people in attendance feel uncomfortable.
I don’t put up with that kind of crap, T.
See I find it “uncomfortable” that men make up 80% of all suicides, a fact your father should be well aware of considering our older brother, your other uncle, killed himself. He should also be well aware of the fact that when he turned coward back in 2009, that he set into motion a series of events that has destroyed the family unit and lead to my personal checkout attempt, 29 yrs to the week of your deceased uncle’s suicide. Guess it wasn’t my time. I spent time in the very same hospital on the very same dates, where your uncle lost all hope back in the beginning of these misandric times in 1982.
I am “uncomfortable” with the fact that men make up about 50% of the domestic violence population and nothing is done about that either.
I am “uncomfortable” that men and boys are seen as second class citizens who are demonized and vilified by an ideologically driven group named Feminists who would kill their own kind if they stepped out of the dogma and told the truth.
I am :uncomfortable: with a lot of things, T, but I am not uncomfortable about speaking out against injustice and misandry. I could care less if it makes people uncomfortable. It isn’t the fact that I am speaking out that makes them uncomfortable. It is their silence, their guilty conscience, that makes them uncomfortable.
So T, that is the reasons why I was not at your christening yesterday. For you see, while they believe they were saving your soul, I have been out on the streets making sure your soul has a chance to live in today’s society.