Jacklegs, Jumping Up
312(a)(7) or Siberia.
Standing lookout for Public Office
Aboard the S.S. F.C.C. Treblinka
Michael Stephen Levinson
Once upon a time I was an old fashioned candidate for president. Today, like Elian in an inner tube, tacking along on the sea of internet, I'm a viable, unlisted street corner speck.
I was one of those candidates for U.S. president, in the '96 election, too, mostly ignored by the press, though I was on Charles Osgood's, Sunday Morning, clipped in New Hampshire, campaigning there, at a gas pump; and from that, sort of covered by ABC News, mentioned by name in their primary night coverage by esteemed anchor, Peter Jennings.
A month before the primary, a lady from CBS reached me at my home in Buffalo, N.Y. She wanted to know why I wasn't up in New Hampshire, campaigning for president. I told her about my prized NeXT color workstation with the 21 inch monitor that was simply too heavy for me to drag around on the campaign trail; and that I would be in New Hampshire later that week for a two hour call-in radio show in Nashua.
"Radio," she scoffed, we are CBS television. We want to interview you for Charles Osgood's Sunday Morning. What are your other campaign activities in New Hampshire? What do you do for campaigning when you aren't on the radio?"
I said, "I go to busy gas stations and hang out near the pumps," which I hadn't actually, but planed for a potential band of campaign volunteers.
"Then when a likely voter pulls up I walk over and say, 'Hi. I'm Michael Levinson. I'm running for president. The president of United States sits on a horse, and all the rest of us stand in the dust, but I am only a candidate so why don't you go inside and get yourself a coffee while I water your horse. How many gallons do you want?"
She chuckled. I told her how I'd met and talked to Walter Cronkite years before, an experience she hadn't; and how later, Cronkite introduced me to David Brinkley. I peppered her with my creative approach to all the '96 hot button issues.
I lightly suggested dinner at her hotel, with her crew chaparone, the night before the shoot. But she was intimidated by that, and we arranged instead to meet early friday morning, in Concord, the day after my radio appearance in Nashua.
The CBS set up by the gas pumps was overly good. CBS's solid ten minutes of questions and answers had CBS's Bill Geist set back on his heels, blurting about my program for ending the welfare trap: "It's too good. It makes too much sense - they'll never let you do that," ending with a walk-away-shot as I announce Muhammed Ali my first choice for Vice President, because Ali is a holy man, world renowned, loved by all, and the best guy for the job.
There was more, besides, a CBS campaign encore back at the motel, for a cameo shot of my mother, with Geist's contract camera crew at the end asking outright for White House jobs, to be the camera guys for, "Live At the White House," my intended nightly ninety minutes of after dinner united family talk show.
CBS's high octane tape is alive in their archives, as out-takes, cut from view. CBS instead gave the public me pumping $5 worth of regular for a potential vote.
ABC News was much better. They used me for their primary night lead into a hastily put together segment on the underfunded, therefore, "candidates you never heard of," for president.
ABC's tightly pre-scripted "Lev" interview, filmed first, came out first in their lot, though closer to a half minute snip than my own self-imagined spontaneous hour at least, of immaculate speech, with every line a delicate sensible rhyme, to bring me and my inspired candidacy immediate Warholwellian world wide fame.
I proclaimed myself New Hampshire's primary winner at 7:30 A.M., for ABC's Evening News product, projecting I would total the most votes - a win - for the least amount of dollars spent, which I did.
Much later, into the night, after the polls had opened and closed, while gorging myself on assorted melons, chicken fingers, cheeses, and rare roast beef at Steve Forbes' primary bash, everything there top shelf, as though right off Forbes' own dinner table, I almost met Joan Rivers.
A friend of Forbes, not Bill's, the comedienne was there, too, campaigning for Forbes on primary night, and she gave a classy warm up speech before Forbes appeared to rally his rambunctious, faithful crowd.
Later on, as Joan was leaving the room, meandering at the ballroom door, our eyes met. She stopped, pointed her hand at me like a gun and shouted, "you," and then, with her thumb up, over the din, "You were great."
That was a chit. Sew a memo-repeatable line, on Channel 9's evening news, and you can memo re bank your campaign lurches in the hole-darned flinty state because Channel 9 is the only state wide network affiliate there.
As I was leaving Concord, the next day, crossing the street to my car, a lady driving by smiled in recognition. I reaped my money's worth of fame on ABC.
But this final time out, out on the hustings, when I first began to write this dream life tale of Jacklegs down, I thought it could easily take "a cool million" old fashioned John D. dollars in advance, going in, without squander, to win New Hampshire's retail primary.
God knows, I began negotiating my New Hampshire reappearance for this current election cycle, a whole year in advance, and talked at length about it with New Hampshire's Secretary of State, William Gardner.
My plan called for Secretary Gardner to have C-Span's cameras in his office on ground hog day for presidential candidates, that first Monday morning in the fall when all the presidential hopefuls can appear at the State Capitol to officially declare their candidacies.
I planned on getting there very early in the morning, and parking myself at the Secretary's door, so I'd be first in line to cough up their $1000 filing fee. Secretary Gardner wanted a minor candidate to be first up at bat, historical human interest and all of that, and he said that he didn't mind my finally getting a bigger bang for my buck, delivering a major speech in his office.
What the heck, I'd been coughing up the granite state's thousand dollar filing fee since '88, and besides, an unmitigated speech by an unknown candidate would be great publicity for "live free or die" New Hampshire, a reason Gardner could throw at the other states' Secretaries for leaving New Hampshire first state up in the primary process.
Not that Secretary Gardner supports my platform of innovative solutions, he's an elected hack, beholden to the poli-party forces there, but on the phone, Gardner was agreeable to giving me an opportunity to state my case and slowly show and tell my plan for world peace and food chain harmony, on C-Span, protected from interruption in his office.
I thought my idea fit with his own personal image of the unknown candidate speaking out in New Hampshire and making a diff rinse in our politics, as I first attempted to do just that, back in '88, on New Hampshire Public Television, where I established my affirmative First Amendment right to request access for political speech and get it. That was then.
"This is the promised land. / That was then. / This is now. / Each land show its promise. / Pow wow to the pea pull. / Up with the folks." c.1971
What a scenario! With the secretary's doors thrown open, and C-Span's unblinking eye, on, balanced by network affiliated local Tv, Swedish Tv, local reporters, and live Canadian television, I was going to deliver, upon that state house declaration, at least 90 minutes of political speech, focused on specific nuts & bolts solutions to our prob limbs, illustrating my common sense platform with anecdotes, spontaneous lyrics and giant mull tie ling well metaphors, in a natch a rill weave, protected from interruption by Secretary Gardner nearby, as I stood at the original 18th century table where all the candidates sign their declarations.
That was my initial poli-poetic off-street theater plan.
By 10:00 am., all the anointed candidates would've been there, too, out in the hall, grousing about Gardner's door, their entourage of sycophants and press, in tow, waiting for their own pre-planned spontaneous C-Span freebe, their mouths agape at my exercise; and I would have up staged that whole gang of candidates, on live cable television, with words, world orders, and word hors d'oeuvres, a new word order.
For me, our presidency is my stepping stone for changing the course of human history on the good ship mother earth, that with an inspired work of art, a book of living prophesy written down in design, to perform live on world wide television for all the world's peoples to sea, listen to and be a part of all at once. My candidacy is distinguished from the rest, who mostly see the presidency as an end in of itself.
I imagined the scene outside the secretary's door, with all the green-groomed presidential wannabees gathered, their eyes locked on a live Tv monitor.
Stepping into that packed corridor after my speech, with all those cameras whirring, I'd have nailed candidate Bradley on the spot, "Bill, you can't win because the referee is dirty demo money entrenched beneath the radar screen! I need you to be my Secretary of State and go to the hoop for world peace because I have the world plan, man, I have the pro gram !" Or should I get in touch with Gary Hart?
"G'morning Senator McCain, I was in Nam, too. You keep telling us America doesn't owe you anything. I agree. You owe us. I read it on the internet: You didn't get shot down. You was flyin' cart wheels, los' control, and dump't our property. That's negligence, Senator and you owe us. I might have to attach your check," laughing, followed by an all around shout at all the crowding camera crews, "Everyone has to turn their sound off. C'mon. Every buddy turn your recorders off. For national security's sake I really need you to cut your sound. Now."
Which they wouldn't have.
And then, "Senator McCain, after the election, when it's all said and done, we have to take out Saddam. We don't have any choice. I have a fail safe military plan for nailing Saddam, which I will explain to you in private, besides a secret weapon. Forget the senate. You only live once. I need you to be our Secretary of Defense, where you can do some good."
"Ok, turn yer sound back on, guys, I love Saddam. You should all pray for his good health. Mark my words about Saddam! When he goes to the doctor and finds out his liver is only good for another six months, he's going to try and take out everyone he thinks he owes; you saw it at the movies - he could make an attempt to take out half of our east coast with him; and we can't wait for that."
Then, as I imagined, to McCaine. "So yer onna book tour, Senator, and riding the wave, but by yourself you don't have a snow ball's chance in hell to snatch the republican nomination."
"I need you to come in second behind me, here in New Hampshire, to trample the Bushes. Here is your winning sound bite, tailor made for your crusade:
"When governor Bush was raising money in Austin, and only contemplating a run to be our president, he ordered his state police to remove some protestors marching back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the state house."
"This is such a telling story, senator. He told the troopers he wanted the protesting citizens shoed off the walk because it didn't look good for them to be there as long as he, the governor, was going to run for president. Maybe they were on the side walk by the governor's mansion "
"How's that for constitutional rights, Senator? Here's yer knockout punch:
"I fought in a war, like so many others before, like Senator Dole, to protect your constitutional rights to assemble and protest. That's why we fought. Governor Bush is a decent man, but he truly doesn't understand that whoever takes our oath of office as president, being president just isn't about bringing honor to our oval office. The president's honor and duty is to defend our constitution, and protect all of our people's rights, not to govern over and above the citizenry, according to what looks good."
"Repeat that over and over again, here in New Hampshire and you will get all the hard core republican votes in every open primary, for a solid second place behind the poet. As it stands, without me here, when the push-poll so-called honorable Bushes come to shove, after New Hampshire, yer gunna get Bushwhacked."
"Senator, I've been there with these people, I'm the 'jacklegs, jumping up' president Bush personally suppressed from his Oval Office in '92, the payback for my having criticized him during my New Hampshire Public Television half hour speech, in '88, where I pointed out that King George, the elder regularly takes the Lord's name in vain, and that we, the people cannot afford to have someone who casually blasphemes God holding our highest office."
"They hate me. The Bush family doesn't know what fairness is. The old lady despises me, and said as much, in a Parade Magazine interview, a few years later."
"Despise, is mama Bar's choice of words, senator. That's the word old lady Bush used in her Parade Mag interview. When the reporter asked how she responds, as first lady, when she meets someone who she doesn't like, Barbara Bush answered, "When I meet someone I despise, I remain stone silent."
"On primary day in Derry, she appeared in a fur coat, I think a mink, at the school where the ballots are cast, only a few minutes after Liddy Dole left the site. It was a bitter cold day, but she stood for a while on the walkway, the loyal wife, urging the voters to vote for her George."
"Everyone with a sign was standing around in their top coats, freezing, except me. I was coatless, but wearing a full set of long underwear, double socks, insulated mountain shoes, an oxford cloth shirt, power tie, all wool sweater and Norman Hilton sports jacket, topped with a Siberian styled fur hat - Chinese red fox - warm as toast."
"When I spotted her, standing all alone, during a voter's lull, I walked over and introduced myself. I said I was a candidate for president, too, and then I said, "Would you give your husband a message for me? Tell him I said, 'give Lev a chance.' "
"But she wouldn't even answer. Not a word. She just stood there, stone silent, with a tight almost smirk on her lips. At that I walked away, but I thought to myself, how weird - not a word."
"The first lady knew exactly who I was. Both her and her husband saw my speech. The voters mostly didn't, because the station listed Motor Week in my time slot, instead of Michael Stephen Levinson, candidate; but the Bushs and Doles, and all their politicos were advance advised."
"What a tabloid scoop in '88: candidate for president gives the only single handed live televised speech in the whole campaign, but for the oil change crowd and channel surfers only. Every New Hampshire newspaper managed not to list my speech in their daily program guides. Gee."
"Anyway, on primary day, a few minutes before, when I saw Liddy Dole near the door to the school, hailing voters, I walked over to her, too, but before I could introduce myself, the Senator's wife interjected, "I know who you are," and abruptly turned away to pitch a vote for Bob."
"Despise, Senator McCaine, lest I forget, does characterize that nazi attitude toward the Jews they'd enslaved for genocide, the attitudes of all those german generals educating Oscar Schindler as to why he should not have kissed the young Jewess who brought him a cake for his birthday."
"I like Liddy Dole. With her no nonsense style, she could easily fit in my cabinet, to take down an agency or two; and Bob for sure in my kitchen cabinet. Bob Dole was my 2nd choice for V.P., in '96, after Muhammed Ali. This time, after Ali, my 2nd choice is Jesse Ventura for Vice President."
"Alone, I might not be able to stop them, I haven't yet, but together we will. I've got a plan for that, too regardless how the primarys turn. Did you catch my plan for campaign finance reform on television just now?"
"Senator McCain, you can make this happen right in your commerce committee, my plan to grant the simple priveledge of nationwide bulk email to presidential candidates, enabling all our candidates for all our public offices to freely reach out for their own constituencies and then run for free. This one clean measure nearly dissolves soft money as a factor in political campaigns. Call it progressive reform."
Oh, it would've been a heavy monday morning in New Hampshire. Groundhog day for presidential candidates.
I had genuine offers planned, for tendering on live TV, for each and every one of the party anointed candidates in New Hampshire, whoever C-Span's freebe cameras lured; and everything would have been furthermore rehearsed live for a hundred reporters, the night before in the Center of New Hampshire Hotel's lounge.
I was negotiating every day with an independent film crew to video everything, to grab shots of the major wannabees grumbling in the hall during my speech, and more. What with my planned dress rehearsal Sunday night, masked as spontaneous entertainment, and filmed in the bar, for all the billeted reporters there, I'd have created enough raw footage, from both events, for an instant Tv documentary, and wrapped this year's presidential election, by noon.
That was my plan. Ahh, the best laid plans.....
I called Gardner twice a week, leading up, to inquire about the C-Span commitment, so I could prepare my own press release. I'd already booked my flight that summer, at Gardner's behest. Secretary Gardner said, "Do it right away, today, use the internet for a better price. Book a flight to Boston. Someone will be there to pick you up at the airport."
Schmuck that I am, I listened to him.
I also booked a room, on his suggestion, at The Center of New Hampshire Hotel. Gardner said it was the main oasis for all out-of-state press elite, so I committed myself to an additional $600 plus, imagining I'd have to pack a dozen cans of tuna for the trip, and smuggle in a loaf of bread or two, to secretly eat my way through the weekend.
When it sounded like he was going through with my request, to contact his friend, Steven Scully, from C-Span, and book C-Span in for the historic first day, I told him I planned on contacting Jesse Ventura, to negotiate Jesse holding a press conference, the friday before ground hog day, announcing only that he, Ventura, was going to be in New Hampshire on the first Monday, leaving out that his appearance there was only to give me a hand, as my reel speech bodyguard.
The secretary nearly fell off his chair when I trusted him with that - a kin to the endangered right whale, I trust every buddy - and Gardner blurted back, "Every camera in the world will be here." Secretary Gardner sounded genuinely scared, and starting to sweat.
In another call, Gardner reiterated that he wasn't putting off my instigated C-Span request, and he wasn't against doing this for me, and I kept saying, "Bill, It's not for me, you are doing something for the First Amendment, and for the State of New Hampshire, not for me. It's for the American people."
But as the day approached, he kept hedging. Gardner kept repeating that C-Span only required three or four day's notice to be there. I could smell he'd wimped out on me. C-Span wouldn't be there, with or without a C-Span bus, on three day's notice, and absent C-Span's unblinking eye, going to New Hampshire was a waste.
I suffered financial penalty when, the day before my flight, I cancelled the airline booking, that off set by honorable mention, the day after presidential's goundhog day, on the front page of The Concord Monitor, Concord's noose paper of wreck urd. Yep, a front page line on New Hampshire's first day primary news beat, as presidential no show.
I should have admitted it, alone and out loud to myself, what I knew all along in my bones: Secretary Gardner is a wimp, and he wouldn't make a move without first consulting, and then getting pre-approval from his mentor, the retired republican Governor, Hugh Gregg.
When I first broached my plan to Secretary Gardner, he said he wanted to talk to Hugh Gregg about it, first, because "Hugh knows the C-Span people, too," and Gardner suggested I call the old man retired governor, which I did.
Hugh Gregg wrote me up in his '96 book about the New Hampshire candidates. For his book, he interviewed me at length, and I was featured as a presidential player in his souvenir deck of candidate playing cards which old man Gregg produces every four years.
I'm one of the players in his current New Hampshire election deck, too, so this year's deck of souvenir candidate cards, including your humble "no show" is a real collector's item.
I invited the former governor to be my honorary campaign manager, pointing out that he could easily rope enough members of the legislature into having house parties for me, a different house every night, so I'd have a couch to sleep on for the whole campaign, and I could retail all around the whole state, going from place to place, with media tagging along.
But the old man governor declined my offer and said he couldn't do that without first giving up his position on the State Election Board, which he wasn't going to do.
Instead, retired governor Hugh Gregg, Bush operative, and major behind the scenes player in New Hampshire's gritty politics, lunched with his democrat party protege, Secretary Gardner, and read Billy Gardner the riot act.
Gardner was told, in no uncertain paraphrase, "You are unopposed for re election every four years, with republican party support. If you get C-Span here all morning on the first day, for Levinson to make his speech, you will be out."
So my run for office is exclusively an internet campaign, and since December's sheet rocked speech, my best laid plan mouse trapped, I've been hibernating, and building my presidential domain.
The ducats are out there for run-around campaigning in New Hampshire, to be sure, along with an interested electorate, but I believe there is more interest on the internet nationwide, where audio and full motion video are beginning to flourish, and that makes New Hampshire's so-called retail approach to presidential campaigns, passe.
Today, with internet, candidates can retail freely one-on-one with every buddy every day, from all around the country, and convert that savings on unspent fossil fuels into bandwidth energy. I like that better.
Political Speech, in America, is our highest, most protected form of speech, higher than True Verse, which is our highest form of art, that God given, stemming from the human heart.
Political Speech, in America, is higher yet than art, and more protected. But out on the political trail, in our slush fed shrill campaigns, the viewing of any Political Speech is governed by privately, pre-determined news formats, and in that time frame, a two minute news content of a straight up speech on the broadcast evening noose constitutes a mini-epic.
On the trail, funded candidates are surrounded by secret service, and personally protected at phenomenal tax payer cost. The candidates' rights to give speeches are constitutionally protected, too, that guarantee, air tight. But the political speech itself is naked, unprotected, and judged good only for a ten second view by news producers, "new directions," "nude erections," and all of that.
Well, we are obligated to protect mass media Political Speech, and we are entitled to a better, more cost effective way for truly unmitigated Political Speech on Tv, a cleaner campaign avenue, but our political soap-suds trailer comes with one big First Amendment hitch: every citizen legally qualified to run for public office, who runs, is also legally entitled to give mass media speeches.
I, for one could speak about fbicia, the enema within. I could publicly question - indeed, show the proof - why and how our Tory government has 70,000 plus Americans getting directly deposited Stazzi like stipends, these domestic worms, on the job in America, their never ending task, profiling the whole country, along with all that secretive job justifying false witness given in the mix.
I could certainly show how the guv has someone in every newsroom, to catch in-coming Casalaro styled copy, and more. How annoying! Ok, I won't. Please, don't shoot, or shoot me up with drugs to stage a suicide, as you did to free lance journalist, Danny C. I'm the man who brings world peace, beginning with a peaceful night world wide. I don't take sides.
Of all the statutes crafted by the Congress since our constitution was ratified, the one statute with farthest reach is Section 312(a)(7) telecommunications law. This statute was created, by the Congress, in 1970, as the Congressional Record clearly shows, to protect Political Speech! In this, the broadcaster's franchise is on the line. "The commission may (a) revoke a station's license for (7) the willful and repeated failure to allow reasonable access for a candidate to make a speech on behalf of his candidacy."
In our whole nation's history, this is our most telling 20th century statute, because 47 U.S.C. Section 312(a)(7) is the electronic extension of our most cherished First Amendment Right, Freedom of Speech, into every American living room, except in its present form, the statute clearly fails its constitutional muster, and Political Speech is innocently raped.
On this access law, with the broadcaster's franchise at stake, is hinged all those slip shod, smoky politishinz' slug-fomercials, designed regardless, as we all saw this year, in South Carolina's repo primary, to herd the coached potatoes, lumped into a voting booth.
At first glance, this unconstitutional statute could have easily been crafted by James Madison, James Monroe, or Thomas Jefferson. But on its face, and in formal practice, Section 312(a)(7) clearly violates all our basic constitutional rights!
This is Congress' fault, though certainly not their intent, or will, for upon passage of 312(a)(7), Congress handed over its mass media First Amendment statute to the FCC, and charged that government created agency to independently administer the law, with Public Notice of Rule making, and other promulgations, like administrative rulings upon request, and, though fatal for their modus operandi, also to rule on those complaints against a broadcaster by candidates for federal office, the prerequisite remedy before the candidates are entitled to redress of their grievance in a Federal Court.
Thus, were our affirmative broadcast rights, a First Amendment guarantee, bureaucracy codified.
The First Amendment's most telling, most important electronic extension, this prime time broadcast Amendment that equally guarantees all of our citizen candidates' rights to plow that mass-a-chewable media avenue into the constituents' own home castles, where all the media massive battles for votes are fought and won; this First of our most cherished Bill of Rights, whose defence, recollect, prompted Senator Dole and many others in and out of fox holes years ago, our First Amendment, our Constitution's beginning-breath, was slipped into the slimy hive tentacles of a shod government agency. Not constitutional. Not. Congress shall make no laws. . .
This government agency, by virtue of its codified bric-a-brac, has Bureau jurisdiction over the First Amendment, which on its face violates our constitution. In its present form, this First Amendment broadcast law cannot be left standing.
The agency's over site juris also includes a sitting president's complaints, oh! that poor aggrieved sitting-president-complainant candidate who further gets to choose the majority of his sitting FCC commissioners, while he, the president sits in office. Nahht kosher, folks. Not kosher by a long shot.
Consider Perot. For whatever their politic value, besides Ross Perot's constitutional right to have given them, each and every one of Ross Perot's original TV Speeches, back in '92, could have been given for free, on PBS, which is under the same 312(a)(7) statute as the commercial networks! Obviously, the pecuniarius Perot didn't know about that. He delegated his First Amendment broadcast rights to underlings instead, not bothering to read the law himself.
Regardless, later in his campaign, when the major networks refused to sell Perot the reasonable blocks of time he'd sought, the networks knowingly violated our access law, and trashed the clearest teaching of our highest court, that culminating Carter-Mondale benchmark, CBS, INC. v. F.C.C., 1981, decided for the Court by then Chief of all Coats, Justice Warren Berger, in which the very same networks were together on the docket, lined up at the bench.
Had Berger been alive he could not have sat silent, and compelled, he more than likely would've privately contacted Perot, for in this most famously intrusive of all the Berger decisions Rhenquist dissed, Chief Justice Berger, ruling for the court, teaches our 312(a)(7) First Amendment access law is an affirmative right! Period.
Speculations by broadcasters were out, the necessity for timeliness of proceedings before the Agency, to avoid unconstitutionality, was clearly stated, and in one deciding paragraph, Justice Berger rounds up all those suspected speculative culprits of constitutional trench, and rules that all the old, tired reasons for refusing access to a candidate were insufficient!
Onward political speech! There always seemed to me a lost comma, or missing something there, relative to potential requests for access under Section 315, the so-called e quill time law.
Ironic, in every erstwhile e quill time complaint filed since CBS, INC. v. F.C.C., in 1981, all the talk show "appearances" by candidates have been advance-ruled 315 exempt by FCC, without their ruling, case by case, on the appearing "use" facts, a radical, quietly speculative departure from Fairness rulings past!
The FCC's unwritten 315 policy, post CBS, Inc. v. F.C.C., was slippery indeed, for the 315 law destroyed the humorist, Pat Paulson's television career in the 70's, that sadly, years before our techno-breakthroughs eliminated channel scarcity, the original federali reason for creating this regulatory commission in the first place.
Of course this non-enforcement of e quill time by FCC cuts both ways. Every Tv appearance by candidates today, on every possible Tv show, is 315 exempt from e quill time requests, so every Tv producer, regardless of program format, can schedule news e-vented "appearances" by any candidates, or would-be candidates as often as they like.
In today's 200 channel light, the dimmest of wits can see that a candidate's delivering of an actual 312(a)(7) protected, spontaneous eyeball to eyeball televised Political Speech is a genuine news event, too, and therefore, exempt from 315 counter requests.
Regurgitating those old 315 speculations by the self-imagined request-harried, intruded-on broadcasters, as they did with Perot, truely splays political darkness, and violates the most careful teachings of our highest court.
But Ross Perot was subtly led away from defending our constitutional rights to political speech. Ill advised, he didn't pursue his reasonable complaint with FCC. So say it was youse who was the candidate for our highest office, instead of that self-compulsed patriot, Ross Perot. Say it was you who wanted to give a speech on a famous street corner, or in the city park, and the permit required for your speech was denied.
Could you move immediately for Writs and Orders to Show Cause in your local Federal District Court, where your right-to-access-for-speech was in dispute? Of course. It's your own First Amendment Rights at stake!
In the heat of your campaign, you could petition for redress of your grievance, and the matter would be adjudicated within a forte night. Hark! Local issue e quills justice in a local court, with a simple Order. Our constitution challenged, is restored. Onward political street corner speech.
But our media access law, carefully crafted by Congress to protect our candidates' rights to mass media Political Speech, and ours, to privately assemble and digest their Political Speech, this priveledge granted our bona fide candidates, granting them an affirmative privileged right to non-commercial prime time, (PBS), or to purchase time (ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX, etc), though only utilized by the politishinz for airing their shoddy commercials, a tax on our own good taste, is exclusively under the over site of one slimy, slip shod agency's bureaucracy, instead of the courts, which clearly violates our First Amendment.
The FCC's policy and practice today, the living legacy of dead and buried Political Branch Chief Milton Gross, savages the teachings of our highest court, illustrated by FCC's own written records to date, that, to put off and delay any and all "speech" complaints against the broadcasters, especially those complaints of non-incumbent independent 3rd party candidates, until after the election passes, therefore Speech demolished, the Constitution trenched!
During the race to an election, the FCC claims they are so harried with complaints, but the record number of complaints filed with FCC's Political Branch, Enforcement Division during our last election, those constitutional complaints focused on a broadcaster's failure to give or sell air time to a bona fide candidate for federal elective office, can only be counted, finger by finger, on one amputated hand.
The "river of complaints" to FCC, mostly by incumbent candidates, only runs to the lowest unit rate being charged these anointed office seekers, for the air time they need to sway votes, not the air time itself, just the dollars involved. Time on air, these anointed politishinz always get, under 312(a)(7), Freedom of Speech and all of that.
CBS, Inc. v. F.C.C., 1981 was / is the most important decision rendered by the Supreme Court in the whole 20th century, only eclipsed, at the century's end, by our swash buckling unscarce growth of digital technology, for unlicensed internet, where any Elian online, using an off the shelf digital camcorder, with poetic license, can digitally broadcast world wide without permission or any pre-approval whatsoever from the Federali's Ex-communications Commission.
Lacking a bureaucracy, this newly found communications industry drives world markets and thrives with phenominal growth. But regardless of internet technology, the speech statute, still in effect today, clearly violates our Constitution, and cannot be preserved absent some juris remodeling.
This FCC made stench of agency, their Political Branch, with games of delay, splintered limbs and speech denied en bureaucratic banq, is exactly what the founding fathers had in mind for us not to have when they crafted our First Amendment! Our founding fathers teach that Congress is prohibited from passing laws that infringe our First Amendment rights.
Bureaucracies become the government, slowly eating your rights, until you forget you ever had any. The elected representatives function as protectors of this standing government. On January 7, 2000, CNBC anchor Brian Williams remarked for his cable audience, about the FCC, "They have jurisdiction over the broadcast industry." Check broadcaster in your dictionary!
Unsullied candidates, qualified for public office, their privileged rights to televised broadcast speech well settled by the Supreme Coats, need just one teensy basic right enhanced, by Congress and the Courts, to put things straight, as long as we are leaving this sadly out-dated enema within, fixed in place to operate.
We require, simply stated, the right to an express avenue for the swift conduce of justice, absent remedial exhaustion, when affirmative rights to access for Political Speech are denied, this Franchise Express Manifest in the local Federal District Court closest to the license-barracaded stations, where you, the candidate compelled, with your rights disenfranchised, arose to give a speech.
This simple change in jurisdiction is required.
Jurisdiction is paramount, instant justice our only remedy, not codified regulatory threshold bona fides, cluttered by some far away slime-bagged agency of government, with its own secretive, swastikian labyrinth regulations, coded behind closed doors, a virtually impossible remedy exhaust, else our whole electoral franchise, hollowed out, is crashed.
I love the law. I brought this issue of my censored presidential candidacy, as my own constitutional rights have always been trashed, every step of the way, all the way to our highest court. Speech. In every bare foot detoured step of the way along the winding unspoke road to Justice with the Coats, I have always been denied a public hearing, that constitutionally guaranteed, protected Public Interest element, at every administrative level, felled.
For conspiracy theorists, regardless of bent, take into account, any and all of my carefully crafted requests for a chance to speak on behalf of my candidacy, an exercise of my affirmative rights, were guaranteed to be rejected, in advance, by J. Edgarina Hoover's mass medja hive legacy. Instead of my rights upheld, I would always be Jew-poet denied, my requests for access, and complaints to their agency dragged out, cindered, and sloughed. Speech, tavarichka, speech is what we talkin' 'bout.
We know that closeted swish, J. Edgarrina, feared and hated creative writers, especially Jews. There are books published, documented via Freedom of Information Act, revealing that car loads of stuff were gathered on various citizens by Hoover's intelligence capos. But these published books are focused on famous people like Jane Fonda, John Lennon, and Alan Ginsberg.
What of those potential citizen leaders FBI besmirched we never saw or heard about; unknown people J. Edgar targeted as threats to our way of life, kids, really whose lives were then cash in advance fascist bureaucracy ink infected, their telephones tapped and friendships destroyed, with college records altered so their futures in the marketplace, except as independent entrepreneurs, would always be subverted, especially from political life.
Where is the follow up on all the unknown poets who proclaimed with buttons blazing, "Question Authority," and, "Women hold up half the sky." How many of those felt in their bones they had to disguise their beliefs, or shed their deeply held convictions, to get a job?
In all my personally, painstakingly researched Formal Complaints, which, under our statutes, require public hearings at the administrative level, I was always most unreasonably denied speech, that access sought to state my case to the electorate, fascisticly deprived, always, of any fairness or justice sought, and always stone walled, the record shows, from redress of my grievance at the agency's required public hearing, another form of protected speech, the FCC's stonewall their policy for all of my complaints to them. Always. Rodney Dangerfield's trademark delight.