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From: "Michael Levinson" <lev@olm1.com>
To: <adam at xent dot com>
Subject: Jacklegs, Jumping Up
Date: Thu, 6 Mar 1997 11:52:09 -0500

Hi Adam
Yours is a great site. I have enclosed an essay for posting, as an
introduction to my running for every seat in the House of Representatives,
and seeking 435 stand-ins on the internet. It sounds like satire, but I am
serious and as soon as I finish an essay on doing just that, I will send it
along. Feel free to pass this true story on to as many sites as possible.
And enjoy the read. In good faith.....michael stephen levinson

Jacklegs, Jumping Up

I was one of those candidates for president mostly ignored by medja, though
I was clipped for Charles Osgood, pumping gas in New Hampshire, and covered
by ABC's Peter Jennings, on primary night. ABC used me as the lead into
their cramped segment of unknown candidates. 

I  proclaimed myself the winner, projecting I was going to total the most
votes, with the least amount of money spent. I did. Much later, into the
night, gorging myself at Forbes' head quarters, on assorted melons, chicken
fingers, cheeses, and rare roast beef, all unbelievably top shelf, I saw
Joan Rivers. As she left, from the doorway, she caught my eye, stopped,
pointed her hand at me like a gun, and said "you," then, thumbs up over the
din, "You were great."  

That's a chit. Sew a memo-repeatable line, on Channel 9's evening news,
with visuals, and that guarantees the hole-darned flinty state! But getting
the high sign from Joan Rivers wasn't nearly as good as the high sign I got
from Walter Cronkite, years before, in 1972. I met Cronkite, in Miami, on
the floor of the Demo's convention, the day before the McGovern convention
began. I talked to Walter Cronkite, alone for five uninterrupted minutes,
and then ten minutes later was introduced to David Brinkley, then with NBC,
by the CBS executive editor anchor who was the icon for CBS News.

Cronkite was easy, though Brinkley was in a lousy mood. I'd actually been
smuggled into the super secure Convention Center, and on to the convention
floor by some reporters I met in Flamingo Park, which Miami had designated
an official protestor's outdoor pavillion, and where Vietnam Veterans
against the war, Yippies, Zippies, and other assorted revo-protestors
against the war were all camping out. I was there to nominate my mother the
official protest write-in candidate for the nation, but I looked really out
of place at the convention center, just hanging out on the convention floor
in jeans, a T-shirt, with long hair and full beard when along came the
great Walter Cronkite, just ambling by, and I nailed him. 

"Hi Walter, I'm Michael Levinson, people call me Lev, my mother, Mary  is a
protest write-in candidate, running for president because I'm not old
enough, so I'm her campaign manager. I'm here to nominate her for president
in Flamingo Park. James Brown for V.P. - vote Levinson Brown, chicken soup
in every pot, and ribs, too." 

Sometimes you gotta talk fast, but my one liner cracked Walter up so on the
spot I had him for a few minutes and was giving him an ear full, until a
couple CBS suits came along and interrupted us. I wanted to hold a press
conference for my mother's write-in campaign, and when I mentioned that,
Cronkite said, "Issue a press release. Maybe they will come." I thought to
myself, he's the CBS Trust; can't he order them? A press conference. 

So the suits pulled him away. A few minutes later I saw Cronkite again, on
the staircase leading to the podium, talking to David Brinkley. Of course I
bounded right up and that's how I met David Brinkley. Walter had his copy
of my magnum opus, The Book ov Lev, which I had just given to him, and I
gave a copy to Brinkley, too. But Walter had to go, and when I opened up
the book and began reading to David Brinkley, pointing my finger at each
word, "Wun day God's sun / Was stan ina roun / Got puncht ina side,"
Brinkley interrrupted me and said, "I can read." 

We parted at that. Brinkley had to or wanted to go, and I went up from the
stair case landing to the empty podium. One of the reporters who smuggled
me in was standing on the floor waiting to take my picture, so we did the
shoot, and I went back down to the convention floor and just sat down. Ten
minutes later, a dozen rows away Brinkley reappeared, with camera people to
do a pre-convention clip, sitting right there in one of the convention
seats with a prop clip board, so I noisely talked to some telephone workers
nearby to interrupt, because he'd slighted me. 

Then I moved down to the first row, alone again. But I talk to everyone and
one the telephone lineman, he said he was Cubish, gave me a panatello. I
smoked the cigar while busily picking my nose. Finally I decided to leave,
to walk back to Flamingo Park, and I looked up at the CBS booth, high
above, and there Walter was standing at the glass, watching me, so I tipped
my hat, and he put his arm up and out, his high sign in salute.
 
How many years from then until 1988, when Brinkley began This Week with
David Brinkley, set in New Hampshire, for the primary, with me - my name,
one of my ideas, genuinely an honorable mention, at the beginning of his
program, instead of just humorous fluff at the end. I reaped my money's
worth for sure, this last time around, and never did meet Jennings, but
it's going to take a cool million, going in, without squander, to win that
New Hampshire primary. Luckily the ducats are out there, along with the
people, on the internet.

Political Speech, in America,  is our highest, most protected form of
speech, higher than True Verse, which is our highest form of art, that
steming from the heart. Political Speech is higher yet, 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 frame, a two minute news content of straight up
coverage constitutes a mini-epic. 

Funded candidates are surrounded by secret service, and personally
protected at phenominal tax payer cost. The candidates' rights to give
speeches are constitutionally protected, that guarantee, air tight. But the
political speech itself is naked, not protected, and judged only good for a
ten second view, 'new directions,' and all that. We are obligated to
protect mass media Political Speech, and we are all entitled to a better,
more cost effective way for our Political Speeches on TV, a cleaner,
avenue, but our political soap-suds trailer comes with one big First
Amendment hitch: everyone legally qualified to run is also entitled to
play. How annoying! 

Of all the statutes crafted by the Congress since Congress' conception, the
one 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. 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 history, this is our nation's most important statute, because
312(A)(7) is the electronic extension of our most cherished First Amendment
Right, into every American living room, even though, in its present form,
the statute clearly fails its constitutional muster. On this access law,
with the broadcaster's franchise at stake, is hinged all of those
distasteful, smokey politishinz' infomercials, designed regardless, to herd
the coached potatoes, lumped into a voting booth.

At first glance, this unconstitutional statute could have been crafted by
James Madison, or Thomas Jefferson. But on its face, and in formal
practice, 312(a)(7) clearly violates our basic constitutional rights. This
is Congress' fault, though certainly not their intent, for upon passage of
312(a)(7), the Congress handed its mass media First Amendment statute over
to the Federal Communications Commission, to administer with Public Notice
of Rulemaking, and other promulgations, like administrative rulings, upon
complaint, by a candidate for federal office.  

Thus, our First Amendment, codified into its most telling, most important,
electronic extension, the Amendment that equally guarantees all of our
rights to plow that mass-a-chewable avenue into our castles, where the
media massive battles for votes are fought and won, that First of our
cherished Bill of Rights, whose defence, we recollect, prompted Dole and
many others in and out of foxholes years ago, the First Amendment, our
Constitution's beginning-breath, was slipped into the slimey hive tentacles
of a shod government agency. Not constitutional. Not. 

The government agency, by virtue of its codified bric-a-brac, has Bureau
jurisdiction over all complaints by any candidate against any broadcaster,
for example, jurisdiction over 312(a)(7) issues, the failure to allow
reasonable access, a constitutional right, including a sitting president's
complaints, that poor aggrieved complainant candidate who also gets to
choose the majority of sitting FCC commissioners, while he is in office.
Nahht kosher. Not. 

For whatever their politic value, besides his right to give them, all of
Ross Perot's TV Speeches could have all been made for free, on PBS, which
is under the same 312(a)(7) statute! Regardless, when the commercial
networks refused to sell Perot the reasonable blocks of time he'd sought,
they were knowingly violating the access law, and trashing the clearest
teaching of our highest court, that culminating Carter / Mondale benchmark,
CBS v. FCC, 1981, decided for the Court by then Chief Coat, Justice Warren
Berger, in which all the networks were on the docket, lined up at the
bench.

In that most famously intrusive of all his decisions, which Justice
Rhenquist properly dissed, Chief Justice Berger, ruling for the court,
teaches our 312(a)(7) First Amendment access law is an affirmative right.
Period. Speculation by broadcasters was out, timeliness of proceedings,
before the Agency, clearly stated, and in one deciding paragraph, Justice
Berger rounds up all the suspected culprits of trench, and then rules all
those old, tired reasons for refusing access insufficient. Onward speech!
There was a lost comma, maybe, relative to potential requests for access
under section 315, the so-called e quill time law, as bandwidth scarcity,
the technology issue, had yet to wash. But in every e quill time case
since, every "use" appearance has been ruled exempt. 

In that light, the dimmest wit can see that delivering an actual 312(a)(7)
protected, mass media Political Speech is a news event, too, and is
therefore, exempt. 315 speculations by the potentially request-harried,
intruded-on broadcasters are really Kafkaesque.

But Perot was discouraged from defending our rights with an instant Formal
Complaint to FCC. So say it was youse, the candidate for office, instead of
the patriot, Ross Perot, who wanted to give a speech on a famous corner, or
in the city park. And your permit was denied. Could you move immediately
for writs and orders 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's notice. Hark! Our constitution challenged, is restored again.
Every time. Onward political street corner sprechens.

But our access law, carefully crafted by Congress to protect our
candidates' rights to mass media Political Speech, and ours, to assemble
and digest their Political Speech, this priveledge granted our bona fide
candidates, of having that right to non-commercial time, (PBS), or to
purchase time (ABC, CBS, NBC, etc), though utilized only by the politishinz
for their commercials, a tax on our good taste, is exclusively under the
oversite of one slimey, slip shod agency's bureaucracy, which violates our
First Amendment. 

The FCC's policy, and practice today, illustrated by their own written
records, is to put off any and all complaints against the broadcasters,
especially those of non-incumbant candidates, until after the election
passes. Speech demolished, the Constitution trenched!

The statute, in effect, clearly violates our Constitution. This FCC made
stench of agency, their Political Branch, games delayed, splintered limbs
and speech denied en bureaucratic banq, is exactly what the founding
fathers had in mind when they crafted the First Amendment! Congress is
prohibited from passing laws that infringe on our First Amendment, our
founding fathers teach. 

Candidates, their priveledged right to media access settled, require just
one teensy basic right enhanced, by Congress, or the Court, that an express
avenue for the swift conduce of justice, without remedial exhaustion at any
'agency' level, when affirmative rights to access for Political Speech are
denied, this U.S. Franchise Express, to the Federal District Court closest
to the license-barracaded stations, where you, the candidate compelled,
with your rights disenfranchised, first arose. 

Jurisdiction is paramount, and the conduce of justice our remedy, not
codified threshold bona fides, cluttered by some far away slime-bagged
agency, with its own swastika like labrynthian regulations as remedy
exhaust, else our whole electoral franchise, hollowed out, is crashed.

I love the law. I brought this issue of my censored candidacy, as my own
constitutional rights have always been trashed, all the way to our Supreme
Court. Speech. Every bare foot detoured step of the way along the pocky
unspoke road to Justice with the Coats, I have always been denied a public
hearing, that Public Interest element, at every administrative level,
felled. Regardless of how many, any and all of my carefully crafted
requests for a chance, an exercise of my affirmative rights, were
guaranteed in advance, by J. Edgarina's hive legacy, to be Jew-poet denied,
or ignored, request dragged out, cindered, and then denied. Speech.
Tavarichka. 

In all my personally, painstakingly researched Formal Complaints, which,
under our statutes, requires public hearing at some administrative level, I
was always most unreasonably denied speech, that access sought to state my
case, fascisticly deprived always of justice sought, and always stonewalled
from any public hearings, a form of protected speech, on my complaints to
the government agency. Always. The Dangerfield delight.

The current dispute, from 1991, hangs with Rhenquist, Chief of all Coats,
but only by a kevlar shred of The Coat's own weave. I'd given up, tired of
waiting for the agency's final slug on my most excellent of Applications
for Review, to which this rigid FCC had no response. All the appellate
decisions supported me, and of my Bureau cases, one amazing bull's eye, a
Teddy Kennedy complaint, sighted, by God's grace, in the FCC's own Law
Review, with 'slippery slope' extrapolations by Henry Geller, their own
retired General Counsel. Super. But I couldn't scale their stonewall. So I
got on with my life, and grated my homeless speech.  

Two years passed. Then one day, perusing The Wall Street Gurgle, behold, a
mealy mouthed op-ed complaint about FCC and Murdoch, by my old nemisis,
'Bob' Wright, the prezzo of NBC,  prompting me to start smashing out a
retro of my own Commission spectacle, "312(a)(7) or Siberia, Standing
Lookout for Public Office Aboard the S/S FCC Treblinka." Drafting away,
giant strings of word spouts flowing, on a lark angelicly inspired, I
telephoned the FCC's Political Branch, where I am persona non grata. 

With bated breath, my voice disguised, the call went to an intern. I asked
a stew dense (dent is singular) classroom question, and then inquired, my
goofed voice normal, "by the way, what was the final disposition of that
Michael Levinson case. He filed an Application for Review . . ." but not
revealing that it was me asking.. Their stealthy skud of guided do-do,
flushed by an Angel, was about to cream the wrong fan. The trainee fumbled
and put me on hold.

FCC's overly ripened ruling was now 12 days fresh splat, in the 30 day
window for appellate review, but, "no we will not send you a copy," that
passed on from now retired Bureau Chief Gross, who was, as always, in the
room when my calls went through, their silent participant. Cocky and
sticky, this alien creature, bureaucracy, sucks the tax, and feeds off
itself to multiply.

So after more than two years delay, FCC's final caprice, that running four
pages deep, was slip cased loose in the Federal Register, during the last
doggy days of June, before the 4th, when all of Washington is out of town,
vacationing, before the Capital's Independence Day display.

I filed notice, and petitioned for Review in the Court of Appeals. The
court issued its own order to show cause, and then voted en banq against
hearing my appeal, citing two unrelated cases: The first was an FCC matter,
but far removed from access law. Petitioners had their timely hearing at
the administrative level, where FCC, after microscopic reconsideration,
ruled against. The appellate court properly denied their petition, for it
was stale, and lacked merit. But on my Application, beside a new and novel
issue stoned, I'd been stonewalled, from my public hearing at the agency
level, a threshold required by statute. Furthermore, FCC's slam ruling was
tooled with fascist cues to annialate all my future broadcast rights, the
last Bureau act of Chief Gross! 

The other Appellate Court citation, fascist buzz, inflames. The petitioner
was employed by the District of Columbia. Getting fired from any government
job hardly happens, and his termination was his own doing. Petitioner then
appealed his dismissal directly to an appellate court, seeking redress
there claiming, absent reinstatement by Order of the District of Columbia
Circuit Court of Appeals, that he couldn't pay the rent or feed his kids,
and petitioner's new deal, a welfare line, irreparably harmed petitioner.
This citation, of a truly bizarre and frivolous case, and other of the
court's self-generated show causeways, smacks of Goebbels building a
railroad, chilling.

Moses the Teacher gave us our binding laws, his franchise Universals with
the Force. Our juris stems from English Common Law, tracing back to Mosha's
works. Figure your poli-appointed blind appellatistas are just out of cite,
circuit breached, and litmus reconfigured for their own personal
poli-hinds. All rise for Justice Future-focused! How boringly convenient,
their bermy bench today a dull haunt of Shepard's dross and trench, whilst
the biggest schmuck petitioner of all, is guttered, bereft of his kinsman,
our departed legal giants, who from the heavens watch. 

Who richly stuffed our circuit courts with these unoriginal,
aristo-poli-capos, only there to clerk the work for future chits, that hive
choping on all our hard cased First Amendment decisions, the teachings of
our Highest Court, now being turned into just so much wasted tissue, to be
flushed from their chambers with the waste water. It must have been my
tissue metaphor, paraphrased here, that irreparably stressed their en banq
brunch, digestives and all that. 

But they won't loosen up. Or is it another band, the enema within, domestic
rats of batton coats entrenched, that sits behind the stone and fears the
worst? The Goebbels Group. Why did our guys land on those beaches of
Normandy, and Iwo Jima, anyway, and in more recent times, the orange clad
jungles, and poisoned desert slimes, but for the franchise, to protect the
vast panople of our nation's  living freedom, writes, and heritage. Does
speech hurt? What creature drives their prob limmo?

Grant there is humorous byte to some of my pronouncements, but nothing
frivolous in my battle, over sixteen years, to simply give a protected
Political Speech on behalf of my candidacy, or frivo-louse descriptions
here. Relative to original papers brought, there was but one typographic
error in petitioner's Formal Complaint of 1991-2, which the opponant
station's counsel jumped on, of course, and distorted, the typo blown up,
which FCC then repeated, with impermissable maliciousness. Fascist, nothing
less, when an obvious typo is misleadingly quoted as though fact, alive in
a Rule Making FCC determination, expressly to stilt the public's FCC
Record, and camaflage the railroad. An Eichmann like styled juris is not
permitted in America. Not.

Especially chilling, as the Court of Appeals relied on that same obviously
typo to misleadingly suggest that mine, or ours, was a frivolous matter,
for the cite would discourage reporters from any review, including the
written records attached. I hang by a thread in the Supreme Court. They
received my petition, timely, August 21, 1995 and it was docketed September
7, 1995. 

Then hark! The slow wheels of jurisprudential (used to be prudence) started
to peel. No. 95-5876, according to the Supreme Court's own hacked data
bank, was distributed to the clerks, for the Justices to pre-review, on
December 16, 1995. The papers were delivered to Chambers for their Dec.1,
1995, Friday conference, at which time, they instantly zapped petitioner's
Writ.

Sixteen years. The zippidy-zap was released three days hence, on Dec. 4,
groundhog day for presidential wannabe's,  coincidently, the very first day
petitioner could officially reactivate his candidacy. 

I hold the Court's docket numbers were capriciously disordered, for cases
moved up are moved for hearing, not dismissive decisions. The Solicitor
General's Office would not, cannot be bothered with lengthy Opposition
Briefs to the frivolous. And petitioner's Response to the Solicitor's
Opposition Brief, with certified docs attached, shows the nation's top
attorney as misleading the Highest Bench, where he was an officer of the
court, with statements knowingly grounded in falsified historical records,
from his client, the FCC. Fascist coating, and all that.

Lucky for them, my pro se thread is kevlar with the Coats, and alive! When
I first submitted my final petition, for reconsideration, I forgot an
affidavit stating I wasn't delaying matters to avoid the outcome. There
isn't any time limit on in forma papuris resubmissions, when originally
filed within their established line, which mine was, on December 29, 1995.
But The Supreme Coats aren't going to hear or even read any case, not mine
or yours, unless they hear or read about it first, in news papers of
record, to which they all subscribe, or have breakfast with, anyway. 

Appreciate, that had the Supreme Court initially granted petitioner's Writ
of Certiorari, I would have been entitled to instant Bold Measures before
our highest court, which I sought going in, and would have made the cover
of everything, in the heat of campaign, arguing my case, pro se, for the
access I was clearly entitiled to, and I would have won make up time, too,
showing America that amongst all of her candidates, I was and remain the
one most qualified to place my hand on the Bible, and be sworn by oath to
defend our constitution, and keep secure all of our rights, which is my
electronic street corner purpose, delivering the most political
information, for the least amount of money, world wide on the internet, so
public knowledge joins this constitutional challenge.

I believe The Coats never read my petition, though amongst them, someone
did. They did not glance at any papers attached. Nor can their Certiorari
coating grant the Court certiorari to sit above our law. When the Public
Interest is at stake, where the First Amendment petitioner is a
presidential candidate, then his and the whole nation's constitutional
rights are staked together at bar, clearly bound. Petitions brought with
new and novel constitutional issues, besides prime face records, of an
agency in gross violation of its own codified regulations, cannot be
trenched or set aside without the Court violating the charge of its own
bench, that balance required by our most hallowed franchise, the
Constitution! 

In the world's total history of jurisprudence, nothing ever brought matches
my standing with this court except petitioner Moses v. the Pyramid-bro. The
Supreme Coats need to reconsider their taking the side of Yule B. Ramses'
Bar. Moses, we are taught, though his petition was denied, at least was
granted a hearing. Who knows when the clarion ram's horn blows, when
thousands of unhappy campers alite the court house steps, like locusts with
sleeping bags attached, the doorposts and all that granite, Whermacht
painted thru the night, the portent of tea party's past.

Well, my Certiorari spiffle floors the lawyers, and is beyond dispute. I
say the Coats could not have read those papers in a million years, but
regardless who read what, I am soon to publish everything, besides this
truffle, all of the papers for all to read on the internet, including a
video of my planned moot court, 'The Case Unheard.' Then it will be clear
to all that our fed a rill franchise truly is hollowed out, which in
itself, calls for taking bold measures, and leave of this remarkably
boring, clerk fed Highest Court, for staining the memory of its own
teachings, and the lives of those who gave their fox hole lives, defending
her. 

For my Moot Coat, 'The Case Unheard v. Darkness at 10 A.M.,'  I'm hard
pressed to find even one attorney to take the opponant's position, benched
with Money & Power, for the Coat's denial of my Writ, left unchallenged,
translates: now any station or network can and will counter-offer any
requests for access, with "5 minutes is all we are willing to give or
sell," and these counter offers will automatically hold up against any
complaints to FCC, as not being unreasonable, thus aggrieved complainant
denied, unless you happen to be a sitting president, or senator, who wants
more time, and then, you'll get what you ask for without counter offers.
This sufficiently reverses Carter Mondale, and trashes the teachings of our
Highest Court, behind closed doors, without a hearing, or any other record
of formal adjudication, as our laws require.

I'm determined that everything winds up on the internet, especially the
moot court video, as I'd planned on spending my first ten minutes with the
Coats, retelling the story of King Solomon and Baby M.: King Solomon knew
from his clerk, during the trial, who got it from a camel driver, who
passed through Jerusalem the night before, that neither of the women before
King Solomon was the mother. The mother died in child birth, far away in
Sidon, where the baby was born.

Solomon had a thousand wives, and his own Child Protective, managed by the
B'nai Briss Ladies Auxiliary. Solomon was going to dismiss the matter
without prejudice, and remand Baby M, to the court's Child Protective for
clean diapers, a wet nurse, and interviews for adoption. Chopping Baby M in
half was only a court ordered lark, on King Solomon's part, on his way out
to lunch. But what King Solomon actually said, and when, and what actually
happened, and why, and then what? Whelp, you must wait for my own day in
court. Jurisdiction. Gag jewels.

Or should I appeal to the courts of Heraldo and Montrell, to get me some
courtroom practice, choosing Justice for the living bench from amongst
their audience. How else for people to hear my argument, and judge for
themselves, or do I wait for my day with Rhenquist and the Coats, and bring
along my own fat haired paralegal, coifed with a mini-cam. Sell those tapes
of Clarence Thomas to Current Affair. Or could I get sued, like ABC, but by
who and for what?

So lets cut to the banq, and satisfactorily solve our constitutional issue,
as a people, before your big buck franchise pyramids down.  Brian Lamb, and
his recently, reality checked C-Span, appears to be Aerica's prime time
avenue. C-Span surely deserves to reap what they sew, and deserves what
they are getting, which is booted from the air at many cable stations,
which is fair enough as we deserve better than Lamb's C-Span, and so much
more than C-Span's con.

Flatly, C-Span sits above our laws, without any broad, or cablecast
license. Oh! Theirs is the broadest license, which is none whatsoever,
above, not beholden to any of our broadcast laws. The 24 / 7 "Network of
Political Record," as the soft overvoice claims, is comptroller of the
records, too, so I personally stopped subscribing to cable, having
determined it was time to go cold turkey, and stop watching the C-Span's
manipulation. Maybe they've gone and changed soft overvoices and their,
"Network of Political Record," message. I don't know.

But whose "Political Record" is it, dear reader ship mates? Theirs, or
ours? Clearly, C-Span  should not be under 315 statutory obligations,
required to give e quill time, or should they? Their programing mission is
uninterrupted Congress, unmitigated, uncensored, end-to-end vid records of
mediafied public Political Speech, and news event presentations. Right?
Wrong. 

Excluding gravel-to-grovel coverage of Congress, O'Slippery 'Span's mission
excuse, C-Span determines and censors everything. So all of the candidates,
regardless of who they are, or how compelling their issues facing us, are,
or why these candidates are standing for our public offices, cannot appear
or make any speeches on C-Span, unless invited to by the C-Span. 

C-Span decides, and censors potential appearances with a heavy hand. Could
there be any reason to reject any 312(a)(7) request for access from any
candidate, beyond Lamb's C-Span sitting above our laws, unlicensed, and not
under any statutory requirements, or slippery FCC review? According to the
Supreme Court, regardless of license, there aren't any reasons for
rejecting the affirmative right of a reasonable request for access by a
legally qualified candidate. 

There are indeed compelling reasons for "The Network of Political Record"
to prize every tendered request for access, without fine printing any
statutes, but certainly genuine respect for the Constitution and our First
Amendment is not held, or governing over there, or any statutory
requirements actively, or inactively, protecting our rights, so when some
viewer calls and asks, "Why can't we see these candidates sitting right
there, instead of walking around, shaking hands with voters on the trail,"
the C-Span's shoddy answer is, "We can't get these candidates to sit down
for an interview because of their schedules," leaving out Lamb's C-Span
policy: scheduled trashing of all requests from any other candidates, the
odd few they get, unless the request is tendered from someone party
anointed, or otherwise connected. America's Netwurk of Record is a hoax,
and deserves the trash.

Would it hurt us, or Brian Lamb, for C-Span's doors to be truly opened to
speech, statements of case, and explanations of issues by whoever announces
they are standing for public office. Of course not! Speech and free
elections is what we are about. Say you are running for Congress, or
Senator, or President. Ram tough, you file your request with lamby C-Span,
exercising your constitutionally protected affirmative right to jam, your
political stuff right down their throats.

The format rules, governing your appearance are obvious: you must appear
live, state your case, say the first twenty minutes of a guaranteed hour,
then take call-in-questions from identifiable reporters, from all around
the country, from their news rooms, and questions from school class rooms
where the students are participating, but not calls necessarily from the
body at large, avoiding a monoploly of pre-arranged load questions being
fronted by some gushing supporter.

Further requests for access are reasonable, too, for an hour with any
important person is only a taste, an eye opener. Don't we need a hard look,
to see who our real candidates are, whoever they are? Aren't we entitled to
more than a red plaid shirt, or ten second clip? Then, before New
Hampshire, there could be a media straw type poll, like choosing the best
of our college football teams, and the lowest level reporters and students
could all cast straws together on who is "recognized by national news
media" for prime time, or who appeared to be a de minimus entertainment,
therefore disqualified from the next level of broadcast rights, unless they
have their own money to pay, as the Coats ruled long ago in, Buckley v.
Sarajevo, that money talks.

Whether common citizens or common candidates, all are entitled to hold
their own views, or adopt someone else's position on hot button issues,
like abortion or Quemoy and Matsu, and hold, in their minds they are
qualified for some position. True leaders best always start from bottom
decks below, smell the breeze above the choppy sea, the forest for the
trees, and chart us a course for arrival. They show the way. Steer. Explain
the picture for the rest of us in tow.

Between us and our First Amendment, the C-Span deal is an affordable
accord. A liberal rubbing of C-Span chaff gives the commonest folk a chance
to distinguish their leaders from the currently cropped forest of empty
suits, and cut. Participants breed participation. We need a couple thousand
super bright people to be our moderately paid, vastly expanded, lobby proof
House of Representatives, a two year show, down below but qualified to keep
the presidency in tow, and pass a bed tax on the Lincoln bedroom. "Leaders
come forward. They have clear heads, begin in log cabins, write their own
speeches, make a lot of sense, and don't raise their voices." How else to
find our leaders without an expanded C-Span guaranteed approach to
management, Lamb racked, like Solomon's lunch. Chomp. Chomp.

A simple C-Span Bill, repeating the 312(a)(7) language, and including the
rules of appearance, simply stated, as above, hammered out in public
discourse - see view play wa lah! We'd have step one complete, a two way
road from every hamlet leading out, a clean avenue, wide enough for
starters, with traffic cops, driving our right to protected, unmitigated
Political Sprechen-zing.

Aren't we the youngest living nation with the oldest standing government,
where our rights are protected, where our true leaders, the ones who see a
way, (how annoying, the vision deal), can rise up from the populace without
compromise, or bartering of the soul, because our avenue for Political
Speech is as the founding fathers manifestly paved it, toll free as the air
we breath? 

Don't both entrenched parties run a candidates'outreach, recruiting for our
offices? Do the out-reachers rub their draftees' noses in all that schmaltz
the potential candidate will come into, upon election? They don't have to
rub. They need only locate someone ready and willing to play, then arrange
fund raising pay forays, medja-blitzkreig, and whichever side wins, when
shovel comes to push, voting in the House, they have their party stalwarts
who vote the party line. "Campaign speeches? Don't you worry, we've got
position papers, insiders, pollsters, advisors, internet spam, even people
in the field." That's what they have. We need draft free agency. Free-Span.

But who actually decides our politishinz' party policy lines? Triangulators
only decide which by-party lines to spam-cast for a win. Are the
politishinz' lines coming from our two main party's main-line, Mr.Web
Soft-money, that casual constituent, who, like plastic man, is able to slip
any keyhole or gate, even the White House gate, and slide unnoticed thru
most obscure loop holes? Does Mr. Web Soft-money have the ears of our
party's connected bleeder leaders, hanging on his beltway, the main sewer
line? Of course

When FCC quietly removed cable from 312(a)(7), they had the sub-committee's
pre-approval belted, too, or it wouldn't have passed, Mr. Web Soft-money's
careful squeeze on Political Speech at the boob tube bottle's neck. FCC's
private cable logic ignores the public air waves that carry the programs
from distant studios to the local cable. So without affirmative access
rights in place, to competitively priced, local cable, can any citizen in
the home district run for any incumbent's seat in our House, or run for
State Assembly, without the stringy blessing of Mr. Web Soft-money? Not
withstanding Buckley, money doesn't talk, but a carefully delivered
Political Speech, jammed with common sense, might inspire support from the
free agent voters.

Mr. Web Soft-money slides both sides and fuels our continuous campaigns,
but the naked issue of speech can't be just money. Who is this Mr. Web
Soft-money? The answer lies in breaking forever the narrow bottleneck put
on our air wave speech, that FCC holds, unconstitutionally, over our First
Amendment affirmative right to access. Any dispute on a denial-of-access
issue, must and should be heard primarily in the Federal District Court
where the complaint arises, to maintain the Franchise; where the FCC could
be invited to file amicus brief, upon request of complainant, the court, or
request of the network, one imagines, that does not want their Public
Interest license gone begging for an ironed curtain. Affirmative. Onward
Political Sprechen-zing! Steady as she goes.

A change of venue, jurisdiction, top of docketry, and our constitutional
protection is uprighted.

So in practice, with one simple statutory change of jurisdiction over one
law, clearly including extended relief to the candidate, that obligatory
burden lifted then, from having to scale a stonewall of remedies' caprice,
which violate all our constitutional rights, then the unprobed limb of
Mr.Web Soft-money's campaign agenda, regardless of amount or source, would
cease corrupting our campaigns, would cease as an issue perplexing, and
finally wash away, and, for all we know, might not even annoy everybody's
wannabe buddy, Mr.Web Soft-money.

The voters inspired might choose themselves decent righteous people, who
accept the 'public's right to know,' as consequence of standing for their
office, who talk good old fashioned common  sense, were we only given a
chance to view such potential candidates, enabled to state their own cases
for nomination, absent the slick endorsements of  Mr. Web's Soft-money!

On October 10, 1995, ABC affilliate, channel 9, in Manchester, and CNN,
co-sponsored the republican party's "Lackluster Gang of Ten" presidential
candidates. Again my new and novel stonewalled issue: a staged appearance
nationwide, without obtaining ballot status in ten states, FCC's required
threshold for candidates seeking nation wide 312(a)(7) mass media access. 

So every other avowed candidate was also entitled to air time from all the
broadcasters who are under the law! The "Lackluster Gang of Ten" appeared,
their campaigns officially joined, so others were also entitled to be
given, or sold the time to state their cases for nomination, without having
to have first achieved any ballot status in ten states? That beyond any
shadow.

Originally, when the statute passed, in 1970, FCC conducted a Rule Making
proceedure. The public was invited to comment. One of the 'rules'
promulgated was the ten state threshold for access nationwide. They ruled
that one-issue, one-state geographic candidates were entitled to access in
that one state but not nationwide. A campaign in nine states plus
Waashington, D.C. qualified for access. A write-in campaign, consisting of
an, 'I declare' letter to the FEC, does not. But a write-in, with
committee, bank account, releases, and campaign speeches, would.

I am the only citizen ever to have crossed the bona-fide write-in
threshold, which was in 1980.

In 1970, there were Socialist Workers and Communist Parties sponsoring
candidates for public office, like Ishmael Flory, in Chicago, and many
others also, who sought media access on behalf of their candidacies, and
many complaints to FCC when they were denied their e quill time. So a body
of promulgations and rulings developed around our access laws, which the
appellate courts could cite, besides their own rulings, when deciding
appeals.

312(a)(7) passed in 1970, because 315 equal time, a Fairness Doctrine
statute culminating in that most readable Red Lion case, just wasn't
working. Red Lion is law. The Fairness Doctine is not, and shouldn't be.
Years before, in Chicago, a de minimus candidate, Lar Daly, walked around
in an Uncle Sam outfit, claiming he was running for mayor against old Mayor
Daly. The commission ruled that Lar Daly was entitiled to equal time, which
is free time. Congress was outraged, and created exemptions to 315, which
the broadcasters also wanted so they could interview candidates on news
programs without being obligated to the non-candidate publicity seekers.
Otherwise, the media wasn't going to cover the major candidates, and hardly
did. 

Everyone who thought about it knew there was a First Amendment
constitutionality issue, that most slippery of slopes down which the
constitution itself could easily slide. But the agency was free standing,
with its own shod hoofs protected, and the law would not be challenged as
long as all the cases brought were properly dealt, and timely, else the
slide. Thus Section 312(a)(7), was passed by the Congress, in good faith,
according to the Congressional Record, to balance 315, and enhance the
possibility of political mass media speeches, which were very rare.

In October 1979, the Carter Mondale Committee sought to purchase a half
hour from the three networks, to air a Rafshoon film, a toast of the
incumbent's presidency, to set the tone for the coming campaign, as Carter
expected to be seriously challenge in the primaries by Senator Kennedy,
which he was. CBS, ABC and NBC countered with offers of five minutes. They
felt that twelve months before the election was way too early for political
programming, that 'officially,' the campaigning wouldn't begin until
balloting opened, on presidential groundhog day in New Hampshire, and they
would be liable to honor equal time requests, besides. 

Carter complained to FCC, Allah Akbar, Allah tell yuh, the Ayatollah
created Nightline, drafted Ted Koppel, and the Imam, may he sit forever
with Ha Shem, settled Gerald Rafshoon's proper gander film. The overvoiced
half hour tape was toast - roasted dead meat, Iranian style, on the spit,
but Carter's FCC complaint was alive and kicking. The Commission came down
hard against the networks, affirmatively on the side of individual rights.
The networks appealed. The appellate court agreed with FCC, and in 1981,
soon after the election, the matter wound its way to the Supreme Court,
with Justice Warren Berger deciding for the Court.

In 1991, I wrote a carefully crafted request for access to NBC, PBS, and
two stations. Recall Tom Brokaw had six anointed demo-critters on a network
sponsored special, with Jerry Brown at the end going 1-800 me me me. Same
circumstances here as in 1995. The anointed NBC candidates weren't on any
primary ballots, except for Paul Tsongas, who filed on the first day in New
Hampshire. Governor Wilder, one of the Brokaw six, dropped out two weeks
later. 

This is exactly the issue hanging with the Coats. I was entitled. All NBC
had to do was agree to sell me the time and I would have had the free
publicity required to be "recognized by national news media" which would
have qualified me for primary ballot status in at least twenty states, and
a freebe from PBS, on request, in January, after access to the primary
ballots was closed.

My 1991 access request to Robert Wright, president of NBC, quoted the
statute, Chief Justice Berger, Justice Pell, Flory v. FCC, and the Kennedy
v. FCC's, very famous cases decided in concert by Spotswood Robinson, in
the District of  Columbia Circuit. I suggested to Robert Wright, that I
sought to pay the same for the air time as what those six demos coughed up,
zip, and we could take the matter up with FCC. In the meantime, how much
will my 312(a)(7) broadcast cost, with the same request going to the PBS
network, two PBS stations, WGBH, and New Hamphire Public Television, and
NBC News, as a scoop, for publicity's sake.

On January 16, 1992, The New York Times showed President Bush petting a cow
in some New Hampshire barn, below the headline, "Bush Barnstorms New
Hampshire." M. Dowd reported, that as President Bush moved down the trail,
his voice raising, he slipped into his, "red meat vocabulary." He lashed
out at, "mournfull pudits," "egg head academicians," "smart aleck
columnists", and, "Jacklegs jumping up demanding equal time with some
screwy scheme."

What was so screwy about getting a commitment from NBC, to which I was
entitled, and then switching to PBS, which is free? Isn't that the idea, to
give the best political speech for the least amount of money? The president
also mistakenly characterized my access request, as a 315, when clearly my
request very plainly, was not for e quill time. Not. My own time. 

So who put my crafty access request on the U.S. President's Oval Office
desk? Mr. Web Soft-money? Robert Wright of NBC? Newsman Michael Gartner?
PBS? The FCC? Or were those papers passed up, round-a-bout via domestic,
cash-in-advance Spooks? Choose. Say a couple connected citizens get
together and conspire against a candidate for our presidency, to destroy
the candidate's civil rights. Is that conspiracy a violation of laws? I am
Sherlocked! Dowd's jacklegs report was also an attached part of my answer
to the Columbia Circuit Court's show cause Order, so I'd also like to get
at the hissy telephone logs of those appointed poli-chumps.

In 1995, with, "The Lackluster Gang of Ten," my very legitimate window of
opportunity was opened again, I wrote another request, to all the networks
this time, and conveniently attached same to my Supreme Court Petition.
Mootness and all that. Included on the guest express list, that same
request was tendered to Brian Lamb, of C-Span. Lamb dispatched my request
to the C-Span garbage can. C-Span wouldn't even bother to answer because
they don't have any answer. Because they do not have to answer, to anyone
except that old Pentagon hand, spooky B. Lamb, so even their morning
program, last seen, only allowing people calling in to share their local
headlines, "We want to learn what's going on out there," is a bore 

Unmitigated Political Speech is healthy and the answer to all our prob
limbs, this most ironically illustrated by C-Span's own access problems in
the narrowing cable marketplace. Scarcity and all that. Congressional
deliberations aren't being silenced, as the real delibs only take place
behind closed doors, cloaked. Didn't Speaker Gopac invite his constituent
lobbyists, on the spot, to write their own regulations and loop hole
minutae, of bills to be adopted on the floor of our House? Was C-Span  also
invited in, to video tape the Tammany Phd at work, for history's sake? The
contents of political record and all that.

The floor of the House is today's bore. Nothing is really decided there.
Even the "debates" on  the issues of bills, by the House's TV politishinz,
are only for a Congressional Record, that corrupted long ago from when
casually reading any page gave one a true sense of our history. People can 
see the Congressional fakery on their TV screens, and click surf away. For
the political health and strength of our nation, the only doorway that
needs cranked open is the rusty one all of us own, that to unmitigated live
Political Speech on mass media. Use it or lose it.

Band width scarcity, which is, who-ahh, pushing C-Span off the local
private cables, is not on trial or issue here! Our filtered Democracy is
not at stake, only who controls the kalaidescope. But what people are
willing to pay for is. And people paying gladly the cable fare, for what is
offered here, guaranteed, protected Political Speech by candidates for
public office, upon their own request, is cheater's proof and democracy's
ironic marketplace charm, rolled into one, as the chump check it off goes
straight to privately subscribed cables, who fund the C-Span gong. 

In 1987, I wheedled a glitch interview out of Brian Lamb, asking him for a
chance opportunity, on the air, during a call in. Grudgingly, Lamb invited
me on. They ran a pre-scripted five minute ripoff with big buck questions
like, "What's your Southern strategy," coming from nowhere. But just before
the interview, it was made heavy handidly clear that I could not - would
not be permitted to display a sheet with a half dozen lines, enlarged, from
the hand lettered book I'd written, on soft blue zeroxed paper for TV
viewing, so my, Book ov Lev It A Kiss, was off limits, Kristalnacht, bet on
that.  Nor was I allowed to display another sheet with my name and address.
Blam, now polish off that Red commie Lion, and shoe that dead lion out with
the trash! 

I'm a registered republican my whole life. I was a pre-teen activist in the
Dewey campaign. It was my first presidential race. Seven years old. I
passed out posters and buttons every day, on my way home from school.
"Dewey, Dewey, Dewey," I shouted at the cars and stood on the corners, at
every red light, waving my banner. I begged to stay up on election night,
celebrating very late for a little kid, with warm, coffee laced milk mom
prepared. Finally, "Dewey elected," was announced on the radio, and I
crawled into bed, secure that I'd won. Bad breakfast

It's in C-Span's archives, the censorship part, from a red light I saw, on,
as the censorship deal was coming down. It might still be alive in their
archives, like Swiss gold, their fascisticly heavy handed censorship style,
or else the spooks have the uncensored copy, a way better touch than some
memorandum, along with the edited version C-Span played for the infirm at
home. I said in that interview that running for president, and getting
elected, was "my life time ambition."

Again, my money's worth. The next week, when Pat Shroeder dropped her
presidential bid, departing from her text, she quoted my C-Spanery,
remarking, off prompter, that becoming president was "not my lifetime
ambition." So Lamb's C-Span sits above the law, but they have to survive,
like the rest, in a limited marketplace, and because they are the ones who
are controlling tightly the contents of what is supposedly "our" political
record, their marketplace is well, slipping away. 

Major speeches by our ten state major candidates, on commercial networks,
must also be free and unmitigated, which an informed electorate, the Public
Interest, and the Constitution requires. Period. Do Fortune 100 companies
all have big business with an outfit known as United States of America?
Don't these 100 companies regularly sponsor all sorts of programs, like The
News Hour, on PBS? Do these huge companies have a vested interest that
someone is elected here in a free election, so our democracy, and growth of
populace, are together paced, in concert with our standard of living?
Forever. Is that correct? 

So any legally qualified candidate is entitled to exercise their
affirmative right to reasonably request, free-to-the-candidate, commercial
time, to be properly paid for, with the same basic terms on this, our prime
time mass-a-chewable avenue, as the proposed two lane C-Span road above:
the speech must be live, assumedly writ by the candidate, and of course, on
the issues, absent widgets and personal attacks, unless the candidate's
committee for trangulation foots the bill , as in all those paid
commercial-spot try angles.

Which time slot, the demographics of whose favorite sitcom is getting the
bump, and how many times, are up to the candidates, of course, and at the
close, a slow scroll of our Political Speech sponsoring agents, these
mammoth Fortune 100 companies with billions in assets that all do big
business with us, through our government agencies, regardless who is
elected president, so these Fortune 100's with their scroll moneys publicly
pooled, are relieved of taking sides in the contest, except the side of
democracy. 

The networks are covered, as they are certainly entitled to whatever for
their time slots sold, not some bogus lowest unit charge, and there are
plenty of channels to go around, band width scarcity and all that.
Democracy is free. Dummy. It can't be Mr. Web Soft-money, holding all the
cards, when we the people own the deck.

We could extend the above with a simple statute, or triangulating Order of
Clintstone: Anyone providing services to government, not just the Fortune
50 plush, must either as a must, or voluntary set aside, refund to the
government for holding, one half of one percent of their guvvy contracts
for, 'The Sprechen Fund,' thus qualifying House Ice Bucket & Wigets for
round robin placement too, in the scroll by of sponsoring entities, at the
end of the candidates'sprechens.

Or should our campaigns salvos be rocket fueled by drug running felons and
skuddy Chinese merchants, muti-nationals doing undercover guns for street
corner Crips, the buckets of ducats, earmarked for favored nation chits.
"Nod us with our fealty hands, it was the party's idea, and that culpable
capable compromising culprit, plastic man. Mr. Mtzplk. Mr. Web Soft-money.
Who said that gum stuck under the coffee bar was a mafiosi moon faced
listening device?" 
  
Is my electoral train, caboosed, a strain of thought so complicated? Honor
the Constitution. Protect Political Speech. And the pasty faced
disingenuous hucksters of hype, those fine print shylocks who line their
pockets with the nation's wealth will find their place with the flush. 

Mr. Web Soft-money, that wannabe buddy from the hot down under world will
then be well out of the loop, not in-putting who is a media anointed
candidate, or who is knot, because our constitution anoints all of us, and
the citizenry will have their First Amendment berth right reestablished,
with tickets to assemble and hear a speech protected, the track to
instantaneous justice, upon dispute, leading as the crow flies, straight to
the federal district court where these key matters must be adjudiacated, a
constitutional muster, instead of derailed, stripped of constitutionality,
and ditched inside a slimey government agency, that hive oblivion where Mr.
Web Soft-money doesn't need the key hole or transom to quietly slide.

In such light, from their plush balconies, those rigidly annoyed, who
shout, "But then anyone can run, we will be inundated," are likened to
those who would lock the theater doors before the play begins, to insure
that, tickets or not, no one gets inside and hollers, "fire." Fired up?
Then change channels, it's your set. Their fascistic speculation bores,
what with Mr. Web Soft-money to fund examinations, on behalf of his
investment, his incumbent and an informed electorate, leaving no stone
unturned, not that joyride in a hot wagon thirty years behind, that to be
sure, a promised headline hence.  

Only the genuine, your best, will step up to the dam plate, those amongst
us with rare character, and mettle enough to know they'd have jumped that
foxhole, too, to save a fallen brother, and protect our unalianable rights
to freedom, and our nation, God blessed.   
Michael Stephen Levinson  

 lev@olm1.com