THE JUDGE IN TENNIS SHOES;
THE 'MAKING' OF "AGENDAMAN"

Are Super-Heroes born or "made?" (Note: The answer is "yes").

I wasn't always this way. And, I still am not your average Super-Hero. For example, although I have distinctive orange headgear, I have no cape. That makes me a 'Non-Caped Crusader,' I guess. A cape wouldn't do. It would block the messages that I have written on the back of my shirt. I don't wear orange tights or any other color tights either. Just wouldn't be good for my credibility (among other things) when I stand on the street corner in certain logging communities of Washington State. But, I digress. The subject was going to be the development of my alter ego, "AgendaMan."

My identity has never been a secret. No quick changes in phone booths or closets in order to maintain secrecy. No mask. However, I am now exposing myself a bit in telling you the name of my alter ego, "AgendaMan." Until now, it has been an inside joke among my kids and me. "Counter-AgendaMan" or "Anti-AgendaMan" would probably be more appropriate, but "AgendaMan" has stuck. So be it. And, I am still not getting around to the topic.

But, I now have superpowers.

I got into this business because some of my kids started having respiratory problems. Only my oldest and youngest. They are separated in ages by about eight years, and they have two siblings in between. The respiratory problems began at the same time and continued. When I say that the problems began at the same time, I don't mean that they started when each kid was three years old. They started on almost the same day when one kid was about fourteen and the other was around six. I determined to my own satisfaction that carbon dioxide, CO₂, had a lot to do with it, but that is a story for another day.

I had also made the connection between CO₂ and impaired ability to concentrate, (A.D.D.), and even to mental illness and violence. I put such information on an old sweatshirt that I had, and I prepared a nineteen page handout that I called an "Indictment." (Someday, soon I hope, I will locate a copy and upload it to this website).It stated my case against CO₂ and disclosed some of the people behind giving us a large dose. I don't remember now who they all were, but they were probably among those included in my 'Hall of Traitors.'

In those early days, I was still just an average angry dad. No superpowers. No alter ego. No orange hat. No website.

I wore my shirt frequently and carried copies of my handout in my car in case someone was curious enough to want one. My kids jokingly accused me of going out to terrorize store employees. Not true. I always had a ready smile and kind word. Still do for most people. I was working in Redmond, close enough to the Northeast District Court that I could go there during my lunch hour. I stood in the lobby of the courthouse in my "CO₂ AND VIOLENCE" shirt and carried some extra copies of my handout. I had been doing this for perhaps several weeks when there was mayhem at the King County Courthouse. A man shot his Philippine wife and her friend to death. Several days later, I was doing my lunch-time duty when I noticed a woman come out from behind the counter and grab the sheriff's deputy, who had now been detailed to stand in the lobby because of the King County Courthouse shooting, and walk toward me with the deputy in tow.

She got too close to me before she opened her mouth. One of those people who intend to intimidate others by 'invading their space.' Too close, she introduced herself. I can't recall her name now, but she was the judge in charge of the Northeast District Court, and she referred to herself as the "judge in tennis shoes." How do you deal with that? It was difficult not to double over in laughter. The pain in my cheek from biting it became excruciating. Was this a Senator Wannabee? A 'Patti-cakes' Murray imitator? Was there a friggin' tennis shoe megalomania epidemic?

I looked down. Sure enough, she was wearing tennis shoes. Some primal instinct caused me to move forward into her space. There was just enough room for a noticeable advance without stepping on her toes. This was not like me. I did not understand it. The deputy got a bit uncomfortable.

Quite in my face, she demanded to know who I was and what I was doing.

Quite in her face, I told her.

She told me that due to the murders at King County Courthouse that she couldn't be too careful, that she hadn't seen me before, and would like me to leave. I told her that I didn't like the insinuation, that I had been frequenting the lobby there and had given the clerks behind the windows copies of my 'Indictment' and told them my intentions. I offered her one and told her that it was the courts themselves and, in particular Christine Gregoire, our attorney general, that were responsible. I gave a brief outline of how and why.

We struck a deal. She didn't have time to study my handout at the moment, but if I would take my efforts outside, she would get back to me. "Fair enough," I thought, and much more than I figured on getting. The deputy smiled, visibly relieved.

I upheld my part of the bargain. I took my 'crusade' out on the street, but I added two large hand-held signs. The rest, as they say, "is history."

She never did get back to me, but I believe that she intended to fulfill her promise. I think that she read my 'Indictment.' Trouble was, it was too much for her. She was gone in a few days. Rumor had it that she had been locked up, committed in Idaho. I believe my case was too strong for her. Reading my logic undid her.

A carefully crafted false world has been foisted upon us. Did my equally carefully crafted 'Indictment' make that painfully evident to this judge? I think so.

I am a 'made' "AgendaMan."

There is another notch in my gun for a different judge who walked away from his position. Do you know the story of Phil Talmadge, now ex-Supreme Court justice, and why I would want to bring him down?

His departure was abrupt and unexpected. Why would he step down?

I have my sights set on Christine Gregoire.

I'd like to rip that petulant lip off her ferret face. (For once, I am indebted to the media for an outstanding picture of Christine which emphasizes her rodent-like features. How I'd love to post it on this website, so you all can see what a rat caught in the headlights looks like). Then, I'd like to put a plastic bag over her head. Just before she blacked out from the CO₂, I'd like to garrote the worthless scum. But, since that would be totally out of character for a Super-Hero, I am going to be content to see the people and the law (after decent people reclaim it) bring her down. I will be there to cheer. Maybe I'll sell popcorn and carbonated beverages. I'll even have one myself. It will be with great pleasure that I watch while the CO₂ bubbles tickle my nose.

Tell her that we are coming, would you?

More of my predictions have come true since those days. We now, reportedly, have more kids in Washington State hospitals for mental problems than for physical ones or injuries. (And that is after inflating the physical ailments with CO₂ caused asthma). The parents, relatives, friends, and even the authorities I have talked with lately are much more open to my 'theories' than years ago. So much more has become evident.

Tell her that we are coming, would you? Tell the charlatan counselors and scum-bag doctors too. Tell the enviros. Tell the CDC. We are coming.

Afterthought: Every once in a while, I ask my friend the name of that judge. I cannot remember and he does. He tells me. I forget. I've often wondered why I cannot recall her name. I had thought about publishing it, but I have chosen not to. Here's the reason why - - - I don't believe that she was truly ever one of "them." She had a streak of decency, a streak that was probably her undoing as far as continuing in "their" world - - - the corrupt, insane place that our legal-judicial-criminal (or is it criminal legal-justice?) system has become. She could put on the tennis shoes and play the "intimidation game," but there was more there. Thank God. So, I have this picture I have created of her life now. After a short stay in the "looney-bin," she "retired" to home life, has two young daughters whom she homeschools. She bakes cookies with them and does Traditional Mom Duties. She is involved in Blue Birds or Campfire Girls, and I have bought cookies or candies from them outside one of the grocery stores without recognizing her. Should I find out different, I'll publish that name for you.

Copyright © 2002, Donald L. Beeman. All rights reserved.

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