Free State Observer

Last weekend I manned an OPH table at the Hillsborough Balloon Festival and Fair.  Hillsborough is a very small town west of Concord, New Hampshire, population less than 2000 as of the 1990 census.  Every year since 1994, they’ve been throwing a fairly traditional summer fair, but they add the twist of launching several hot air balloons (or as the French call them, “montgolfieres”, after the brothers who invented them) twice a day from a baseball field.  Entrance is free (you only have to buy tickets to ride the carnival rides), and I highly recommend it if you have any interest in seeing how hot air balloons get inflated and launched. As The Twenty One Balloons was one of my favorite books as a child, I found it to be a thrilling experience.

OPH, for those who aren’t familiar with the acronym, stands for Operation Politically Homeless.  It’s a program that was developed by a libertarian organization called the Advocates for Self-Government, and is designed to expose people to the idea of libertarianism and, in some cases, help them realize that they *are* libertarian, even if they never heard the word before.  I’ve known about OPH for years, but I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that I’d never actually manned a table before.  I must say I was surprised at how effective it was.  Basically, you put a large, poster-sized version of the World’s Smallest Political Quiz on an easel, which catches the eye of passersby at a high density event such as a summer fair.  Once their interest is piqued, you cajole them into taking the WSPQ, which takes most people just a minute or two.  Then you tally their score and show them where they fall on the poster.  The results can be quite fascinating.  Out of a total of 89 people who took the quiz, here are a few who stand out in my mind:

• –the cop who stopped by to harass my partner for exercising his perfectly legal right to openly carry a firearm (not only did my partner win the “discussion” they had, he talked the cop into taking the WSPQ!!) scored… STATIST
• –the kid from MIT who scored a perfect 100/100
• –the couple with three kids who scored fairly far apart, horizontally, and their three children were interspersed between their two scores
• –the couples who, despite jokingly being warned not to start arguing with each other after taking the quiz, started arguing after taking the quiz
• –the guy who wouldn’t go away for 10 minutes and informed me that, among other things, he invented computer software, founded MENSA, and has discovered the secret of cold fusion.  He was very insistent that I have Ron Paul get in touch with him.  Please count that fact that I have not done so as a campaign contribution.
• –the kid who was a paid staffer for the Hillary Clinton campaign, who took the quiz and scored borderline libertarian. He felt conflicted about signing the LPNH’s petition while being paid by Hillary, but he said he’d look us up in a few weeks when his job ended.
• –The woman campaigning for Ron Paul, who told me they had a hot air balloon with his face on it… and like a complete idiot, I believed her.
• –The things people admitted to not knowing, which absolutely blew my mind.  “What does ‘impeachment’ mean?” “What’s a ‘tariff’?”  “What’s that on your shirt?” (I was wearing a Gadsden flag T-shirt.)

Overall it was a very positive experience.  People were nice and friendly and relaxed, the kids were non-malicious, and some people seemed genuinely grateful for the short educational interlude on political theory.  It was another Norman Rockwellish day in the hinterlands of New Hampshire; the only thing that marred it was the unbelievable level of obesity amongst the fairgoers.  I remember when I was young, most people were “normal”, and a fat person stood out.  Now it’s completely reversed; fat IS normal, and slender people stand out.  For the love of God, what are we doing to ourselves?!   

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One of the first things first-time visitors to New England notice is its compact size: A crow flying 100 miles from almost any treetop outside of Maine will end up in the next state, if not Canada. But map distances bear absolutely no relation to travel time, thanks to the mountain ranges pitched up across northern New England. So if you’re sitting in your motel room in New Hampshire or Vermont wondering how far to drive for dinner, look to towns north or south. As a rule these will share the same valley since the rivers and mountains are generally aligned north-to-south, like compass needles. In contrast, that next town to the east or west may as well be on the opposite side of the state so far as convenience is concerned: Whether winding along erratic streambeds or stitching their ways up the sides of passes between high peaks, east–west roads tend to be a slow grind in even the best weather, truly as tortuous as the wiggling lines on the map suggest. Heavy vehicles, cautious drivers, and foul weather make the going doubly difficult. Keep this in mind as you consider outings and side trips or you, too, will learn to say, “You can’t get there from here.” –from the Appalachian Trail writeup on RoadTrip U.S.A.

Two weeks ago I helped a new Porcupine family move into New Hampshire.  Actually, it was a double move, because another Porcupine family with two kids that had moved from Connecticut a couple of years ago was relocating to one of the boonier corners of the state, on the western border (note in the blurb above the difficulty of travelling in easterly-westerly directions in the Granite State), and the new family of five that had recently arrived from Tennessee was moving into the house they were vacating.  Fortunately, everything was well-packed in advance, and a small army of volunteer movers showed up, so it was relatively quick and pleasant work.  It didn’t hurt that one of the movees is a professional truck driver, which enabled him to back the moving truck right up to the door of the house at both ends of the move.  Afterwards we all enjoyed a good old-fashioned BBQ and an absolute mountain of food (and beer).  The incoming mother from Tennessee was overwhelmed by the show of generosity and support from a group of not-for-long strangers, and said that although she and her husband had got some grief from other family members over their decision to move to New Hampshire, she couldn’t imagine any place she’d rather live.  I heard from her yesterday, and she is happy to report that she and her husband have both obtained “great” jobs within a month of arrival and are thrilled with their “beautiful” new home.  Score another one for the Free State Project.

This being my seventh Porcupine moving party, not counting my own, I’ve had time to ponder the mysteries of why some people get a horde of cheerful volunteers to help them move their stuff, and others…. not so much.  Don’t believe anyone who tells you that “everyone” who moves to NH gets a crowd to help them move in; it’s not so. Based on two years of observation and personal experience, I’ve compiled the following completely unscientific list of tips for…

How to Throw a Porcupine Moving Party

A) Advertise far and wide.  The more places, and the farther in advance, you advertise your move, the more people will hear about it either by reading your ads or via word-of-mouth.  Good ways to advertise are on the FSP discussion forum, NHFree.com, the NHPorcupines-discuss yahoo group, and via direct email to people who know you.  Follow up with reminders closer to the date.  Provide a cell phone number so people can confirm at the last minute that there hasn’t been a change of schedule.

B) Offer food and beer. These appear to be non-negotiable prerequisites for attracting a large group of movers.

C) If you’re moving within state, or from a close-by state, come to a Porcupine meeting (they take place weekly in locations around the state), stand up and let everyone know you need help.  Don’t be scared!  Despite the anomalous number of openly carried handguns, we’re basically a peaceful bunch.

D) Be libertarian / pro-small government / classically conservative / Constitutionalist / anarchocapitalist.  I would have thought this one would go without saying, but I recently saw a hyperlink on a non-FSP website telling people that if they’re moving to New Hampshire, just contact the Porcupines and we’ll be happy to help you move in.  Wha????

E) Schedule your move for a Saturday or Sunday.  This makes a huge difference, as most of us *do* have jobs. If possible, don’t schedule your move to conflict with an event that many Porcupines are sure to be attending.

F) Accrue social capital.  This is the hardest requirement, and takes long-range planning/effort, and is a bit difficult to concretely define, but there’s no denying it plays a role.  Let’s face it: many of us need a darned good reason to haul ourselves out of bed early on our day off from work, to go out in the pouring rain/blazing sun/blowing snow (I’ve experienced all three during moving parties) to do manual labor on behalf of someone we probably don’t know all that well, if at all.  How does one accrue social capital?  Well, if you don’t have time to read one of the numerous available books on small-town (or in this case, small-state) life in America, or to watch reruns of “Little House on the Prairie”, here are some tips:

1. let people get to know you.  Attend parties, BBQ’s, Porcupine meetings, PorcFest.  Even if you’re the quiet type, if you just show up on a regular basis, then when it comes time for those in your social network to make that critical decision (do I, or do I not, get out of bed to go move furniture?), people are more likely to think “Aw, he’s one of us, guess I oughta”.  Or if you haven’t yet arrived in NH, actively participate on the discussion forums and Yahoo lists.  It’s amazing how much you can feel like you *know* someone you’ve never actually *met*.
2. Be a nice person.  Unconditional love is for babies, sweetheart.  People will want to help those they like; they will be less inclined to help those they dislike.
3. Be politically active, in whatever way you define that to be.  That *is* the reason we’re here after all (by “we”, I mean participants and supporters of the Free State Project). 
4. Help other people move.  This is known as “the Golden Rule” (or, if you want to show off, the “Ethic of Reciprocity“)

I personally failed to follow many of these tips when it came time to move *my* furniture, and my moving party turnout was… smallish.  Since I hope to buy a house next year, I’d better start stocking up now on beer, to be dispensed on a weekend, not to conflict with PorcFest. And oh yeah, get started on that whole “nice person” dealio.

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Editor’s note: this blog entry has been edited for content and formatted to fit this screen.  Viewer discretion is advised.

I’m a huge Battlestar Galactica fan currently experiencing a painful withdrawal (damn you, summer hiatus! damn you all to hell!! [/Heston mode]).  The show gives my brain everything it needs: good old-fashioned sci fi escapism; good-looking, smart, charismatic characters to empathize with;  a setting so brutally harsh that it makes my own mundane world look posh in comparison;  and, most unusual for TV, meaty philosophical issues to chew on, issues that are extremely relevant to the world today.  Here’s just a sampling:  if a large number of an alien nation/race is sincerely trying to exterminate you, does that justify exterminating them, knowing full well that not all of them agree with the views of their majority, that some of them are decent people, even allies, even friends?  Is it morally right to judge someone else and sentence them to death, knowing full-well that you, and those you care about, have done various things over the course of your lives that are despicable, shameful, or have just been shown in hindsight to be really bad calls?  Is torture justifiable?  How do you handle the fact that someone you have the utmost respect for holds religious views that you feel are completely irrational?  Why are we so often cruel to those we love? How much of our lives is controlled by free will and the choices we make, and how much of it is preordained, or simply beyond our control?  And what do you do when you gradually realize that everything you’ve ever been taught is a lie?  Where do you go from there?  What do you do? 

Over the past six months, I’ve been hearing music in my head (this analogy will make no sense to you unless you’ve seen the Season 3 finale of BSG).  It’s been freaking me out, and I’ve been hesitant to say anything about it, because I get the sense that most of the people around me don’t hear it.  It’s gradually been getting louder, and more defined, and I’m starting to identify snippets of lyrics.  Bob Dylan will not leave my wretched soul in peace. 

Government, all government, is a gang.  Always has been, always will be.  I used to think that at least the U.S. had the best system, and if we could restore it to the way it used to be, things would be better.  But the more I learn about the history of this country (and how much of what I learned in school was utter crap), the more I realize that the U.S. was never exactly a shining beacon of truth and justice.  George II really hasn’t done much that hasn’t been done before, he’s just got more high tech tools with which to do it.  “All of this has happened before;  all of this will happen again.”

Even if we magically made the government go away tomorrow, it wouldn’t be enough.  For a number of reasons, the majority of the American population today wouldn’t know what to do without it, and would probably scream for it to come back ASAP.  “Where would we send our kids every day?”  “What would we do when foreigners ’steal’ our jobs?”  “Who would take care of us when we’re too old and sick to take care of ourselves?”

Is there really an Earth?  Will we ever get there?  And when we do, who’s to say we won’t make all the same mistakes we made before? 

What’s a Cylon who thought she was a human to do?  Frak if I know.  I do have several ideas percolating.   Whether or not any of them will come to fruition, or prove effective, I can’t predict. I do know this much: beating dead horses, no matter how beloved, won’t get you far.  It’s time for something new.

“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief,
“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.”

“No reason to get excited,” the thief, he kindly spoke,
“There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.”

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

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