After five years of running head first into a brick wall while pursuing a film career in Los Angeles, I began waking up to the high level scams that were stalling my forward momentum in life. And there was one person who brought many of these shady undertakings to my attention…Dr. Ron Paul. Dr. Paul came along at the exact right moment in time to articulate the reasons I started noticing my freedom and prosperity dissappearing before my very eyes. The most serious issue, and the one that tied the corruption in our country to the Hollywood elite was that of the Federal Reserve. This con involves a private international banking cartel that controls the United States currency and in turn, most of the world’s reserve money. And the majority of the biggest players in Hollywood were in some way, shape or form tied to this illegal central bank through their corporate entities. Once I realized that my success in the entertainment business was dependent upon breaking up the cronyism that existed in our country and in LA LA land I decided to get involved.
While making calls at the Los Angeles Ron Paul headquarters during Dr. Paul’s run for president in 2008, I got to meet the founder of the “End the Fed” movement who encouraged me to become an active participant in their protests. It was a very eye opening experience to learn of the other two central banks that existed in our nation’s history and how they both deprived the people of their wealth and freedom not unlike today. I was also learning from the many brilliant minds that I was coming into contact with that we were sold into slavery by FDR in 1933 when he agreed to use U.S.citizens as collateral for the newly established Federal Reserve Bank Note. This new Federal Reserve Bank Note replaced the former Federal Reserve Note that a person used to be able to exchange for an equivalent amount of gold or silver that backed the Note’s worth. The Federal Reserve Bank Note is now currently backed by nothing other than We the People and our promise to pay the debt with everything we have, including ourselves http://thelastoutpost.com/video-5/war-powers/dr-gene-schroeder-war-powers-act.html.
Because my eyes were now opening to this corrupt world around me, I felt as if it was my duty and in the best interest of my own self preservation to alert others. This didn’t come without consequences. More importantly I was driving my girlfriend Mary away. She couldn’t understand what caused me to take such a radical turn and warned me on several occasions not to discuss any of my newfound knowledge with her.
I think the final straw that beyond any doubt pushed Mary over the edge and broke the proverbial camel’s back in our relationship was the night that I went out hanging “End the Fed” and “Gold is Money” signs. These were to be fastened to two consecutive footbridges that hovered over the highly traveled 101 freeway. I needed an accomplice but I knew better than to ask Mary. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even want her to know what I was up to. I bought the supplies at Michael’s Craft Store while Mary was at work and promptly rushed home to complete these humongous posters before she walked through the front door. I quickly loaded up my car just short of her arrival and scurried off to work before she could stumble upon my revolutionary activities. When I arrived at the deli that evening, I kept the amount of people I asked for help to a minimum as I didn’t want to stir up any more sentiment to fire me than was already present. When I came across Miguel, an eighteen year old 5’4” Hispanic kid who was more into the thrill of the adventure then he was the cause for liberty, we hatched our plan.
After work, we drove my car to the footbridge farthest from the deli and parked in the cul-de-sac near the entrance. We brazenly approached the overpass with determination as we were excited to start our mission. But just a few steps into our walk of death we began to second guess our decision. Tractor trailers were whipping below our feet at breakneck speed forcing the whole structure to shake. As we finally inched our way to the center of the catwalk we first had to stop our knees from knocking so we could carry out our objective. As we eventually adapted to our new environment, a fresh rush of adrenaline swept over us. We hurriedly decided that we should fasten the top ends of the banner first. We agreed that in order for this to happen I, being 6’5”, would have to drape the sign over the tall wire fence extending up from the guardrail. From there we would fasten the top corners to temporarily hold the streamer in place while we secured the rest of the homemade billboard. Trust me this was trickier than it sounds. I held onto the sign for dear life as I reached over the tall chain link fence that was the only thing keeping me from splattering all over the concrete interstate below. I prayed to God that the mesh wire barrier that was gently separating me from the highway underneath me had met all of the safety requirements necessary to hold a large man in place who just so happened to be dangling from an overpass. As I clutched the material with one hand I poked two fingers from my free hand through one of the holes in the chain link fence to attach the first top corner. After briskly duplicating this task, we successfully hung up the first sign and in a race against time moved on to the second bridge.
We were well on our way to completing our objective on the second bridge when we started laughing hysterically at the insanity of our operation. I mean what would happen if we dropped a sign onto an oncoming tractor trailer that, as a result of our actions, went veering off the freeway at 80 miles per hour. My body was shaking and even though there was a slight thrill involved in our adventure, I couldn’t wait to return to the safety of my car. We were nearly finished tying the last bottom corner of the second sign to the fence when we felt a strong illuminating presence from behind us. We turned around to discover the source but the glare was so blinding that we could not make out what it was. Then we suddenly heard “Get down off the footbridge now. Wait at the bottom of the ramp and one of our cruisers will meet you there.” When the tractor beam finally dimmed down enough to see who was behind it we realized it was the California Highway Patrol who had pulled off to the side of the road to catch us in the act with their floodlight.
Because my car was parked on the same side of the road as the cruiser, I got the bright idea (no pun intended) to walk in the opposite direction of both. Completely ignoring the fact that if they inspected the cars in the cul-de-sac where I left my car, they would have found more than enough sign hanging paraphernalia to link me to the crime. But it was too late as Miguel had already taken my lead and was following me in the direction that got us down off the footbridge in the least amount of time and as far away from the Highway Patrol as possible. I kept expecting a police helicopter to come swooping down from the sky to prevent us from disappearing into the night. All that I knew was that they were not going to take me in alive.
The second we hit the dark part on the ramp we took off running. I had a feeling that Miguel’s rotund shape would not suit him well in the long distance sprinting we were about to embark on. These kinds of thoughts raced through my mind as I shot out to an early lead. I was hitting full stride when all of a sudden, at the bottom of the ramp, I found myself in mid air. I caught my fall with my forearms and skidded on the concrete pavement until I came to a complete stop. As I laid there trying to figure out what in the hell just happened I could feel the multitude of burns on my skin and noticed that I was bleeding profusely. As I felt my way through the dark like Helen Keller in a wax museum, I discovered a pole that was sticking out of the center of the walkway that I guess I overlooked while travelling at full speed in 1% visibility. My leg was a little banged up from smacking into the pole but I was determined to keep going. As I attempted to pick myself up off the ground I could hear the pitter patter of Miguel’s feet rapidly approaching. I yelled “Pole!” to prevent Miguel from meeting the same fate. He was able to decelerate just inches before striking the metal intrusion. Had he not come to a screeching halt at that exact point in time he would’ve knocked his family jewels up into his esophagus. He helped me up to my feet and checked in with me to make sure I was okay. Before long we were two fugitives on the lam once again fleeing through a wealthy Encino neighborhood.
We alertly hid behind parked cars or jumped behind a row of bushes anytime we thought we heard an oncoming car. After about thirty minutes of bobbing and weaving through suburbia we finally made it to White Oak Avenue which was the same street that I lived on. Unfortunately for us, we emerged about two miles away from my car and even further away from my house. Miguel being the street punk that he was figured that the cops would probably be waiting for us by my car so we agreed to continue traveling in the opposite direction. We were only a few blocks away from Ventura Boulevard where there was a supermarket and a bus stop.
Making it to the supermarket would provide us with some cover and allow us to remove ourselves from broad view, so we made it our priority. We walked fast when there was no traffic and slowed up the pace when we felt heavier flow. This was already a two hour plus ordeal and it was well after three in the morning. Miguel had the foresight to remove the shirt he was wearing when we were spotted by the highway patrol which he stashed in some bushes. This was to avoid the police description given to any black and white in the vicinity. I can imagine the dispatch that came over the radio. “We have a six foot five approximately 35 year old white male with blonde hair, possibly a history professor, and his accomplice a five foot four Hispanic 18 year old male, most likely a disgruntled student, heading off the 101 overpass towards Encino Ave.,” to which there is a brief pause and a burst of laughter…