A while back, I chatted with Becky about her desire to stop eating anything containing high fructose corn syrup, to buy from her local farmers, to provide wholesome food for her family.

Recently, I spoke to Becky about her efforts to prepare meals made from the fundamentals, to eschew preprocessed, industrial foodstuffs.

Frankly, a few years ago, I thought Becky was nuts.  I don’t think that anymore.

Last month, I wanted to buy a gun case for a new rifle I was given by my brother-in-law.  I looked around; everything was made in China.  I refused to buy one until I could find a quality product made in America.  My brother-in-law asked, “How long has this been going on?”  I said, “As of now.”

I was talking to an old friend last Friday night and told her about my discussions with Becky; about how I was drawn to the message.  How I wanted to follow her lead.  My friend said, “All it takes is one person.”

So, I’m now one person.  I’ve begun to locate sources for local food; eggs, raw milk, produce, meat, butter.  Grown locally, purchased right off the farm.

I’m also one person who will never again buy anything except that which is made in America (or was made in America at some point).  Is this even possible?  I don’t know.  But I’m one person and I’m going to try.

I invite you to follow my progress.  And I invite you to join me.

One thing of value I did extract from Joel’s tome was a “lead” to an organization dedicated to healthier food and local growers, the Weston A. Price Foundation (WAPF).  I used the Google (my boss calls them, “the goggles”) and discovered, much to my amazement, a local representative and an email address.  I sent an email instanter and got an almost immediate reply from Julie Konikoff, a fellow(ette) resident of Tallahassee.  Julie answered patiently my many questions and then told me one of her favorite produce producers is the farm, get this, ACROSS THE STREET from my house.  Julie also told me there is a farmer’s market every Wednesday almost literally ACROSS THE STREET from my office.  Yeah, right?  See: stars, aligned.

So today, I headed over to the Lake Ella market and picked up a few items:

•  Sourdough bread, made naturally with olive oil ($7)
• One T-bone steak ($15.34; 1.18 lbs)
• One dozen eggs, one container of hummus, one pack of pita bread ($20)

The other day, I bought some Vidalia onion and peach salsa ($4.15) and a jar of apple cinnamon jelly ($4.50) from the country store up the road from my house.

Market Food

Look at the cost of those few items.  You getting the sense that this ain’t a pursuit for a pauper?  I knew it would cost more to buy better, healthier food; after all, the point is to buy from small producers who don’t benefit from economies of scale and government subsidies.  I am suffering a bit from sticker shock, but I’m intent on continuing.  This lifestyle change is not a financial issue; it’s a cost/benefit analysis where I’ve chosen to spend more to realize the benefits of healthier food.  Besides, every time I can buy something from a local farmer, I poke a sharp financial stick in the eye of Publix; you know that has to appeal to me, right?  At any rate, I’ve just begun the journey so I’ve yet to “learn the system, work within the system, beat the system.”

Here’s something else I learned which amazed me.

Perusing a local farmer co-op/store website (you can place orders online from Sunday until 6:00 am on Wednesday and then pick up your stuff on Thursday at a couple locations around town), I noticed the link to “Dairy” didn’t work.  And there was something else “strange” on the site: a link to “Pet Food.”

Pets Only

Reading ole Joel’s book, I ran across an offhand comment about farmers who were overwhelmed by the onerous regulations levied on all food producers by the government.  The costs required to comply with the regulations are a barrier to entry for the small producer; they just don’t generate sufficient income to comply with all the laws which would permit them to sell their products (you know, dangerous stuff like eggs, milk, cheese) to the general public.  However (and this is a BIG “however”), they can label the items thusly:  “Pet Food Only, Not Safe for Human Consumption” and sell it to any Tom, Dick, or Mary.  I shit you not.

Julie told me I can go into a local New Leaf Market and ask for raw cow’s milk (they had goat’s milk at the market today, but I’m not ready for that yet) and you can get all you want (you have to ask an employee; they don’t put it in the dairy case).  I imagine I can get other stuff there, too, but I’m really intent on forming a relationship with the farms and farmers in my area.  To begin with, I plan to visit the farm ACROSS THE STREET from me this weekend.

Ironically, despite this pursuit of better, healthier foods, I haven’t quit smoking.  How stupid is that?  I am riding my bike, though.  Baby steps, Dr. Bob, baby steps.

I invite you to follow my progress.  And I invite you to join me.  Remember, “It only takes one person…”

The taste was comparable to “normal” eggs.  Perhaps I’m not an egg aficionado.

To accompany my eggs, I had a hunk of sourdough, olive oil based bread.  That was delicious, but again, nothing approaching the realm of spectacular.

For lunch I had some pita bread and the hummus I got the other day.  Again, nothing to write a blog about.  Maybe my palate is simply too simple.

This afternoon I drove to Publix to buy a baking potato to eat with the trial T-bone steak I purchased at the Farmer’s Market on Wednesday.  And therein lies a bit of a problem with this whole “buy local” shtick – you can only buy local what is grown locally and it has to be “in season.”  Potatoes are not in season.  They can’t be found, unless you choose to get them in a grocery store (where you can get anything, any time of year, eh?).

Here’s what’s in season: leafy vegetables (kale, arugula, and soon, lettuce) and root vegetables (turnips, parsnips, etc.).  Those of you who know me are aware that I have not eaten a turnip since 1968 and I have no intention of starting now.

I’m a bit stuck.  Faced with a food “shortage,” I have but a few options: I can learn to eat turnips (not on a bet), I can abandon my pursuit of healthier foods, or I can expand my culinary skills and my willingness to try “different” things.  Given my proclivity to rebel against any decisions which are forced upon me, I’ve had to engage in introspection to ascertain my motivation for this life change (wow, this took an entire week to fall to pieces).  Here’s what I’ve decided (unilaterally).

I started this to eat healthier, but I think the real impetus behind this is to take a small step toward going back to a better time, a better, place, and a better country.  It’s nice that I may end up healthier, thinner, and better looking (as if) as a result of this enterprise, but I’m really trying to cast a vote (just one, but one nonetheless) against industrialized food and, in no small measure, against the government which promotes and supports a system which tilts decidedly against farmers and their families.  I think I’m pissed.  Nah, I KNOW I’m pissed.

No Luddite I, I just want to “take back” what has been taken from us.  Freedom to choose from whom we buy our food, freedom to support our neighbors, freedom from having some asshole pick winners and losers.  I’ve pretty much had enough of that from my government.  I’m buying American, and I’m buying from my community.  No matter how hard it becomes.  So, I’ll be learning to cook and eat new things.  I’m Gumby, Damnit!  I can be flexible!  Now that Twinkies are not an option, why the hell not?

An aside is in order here.  When I went to the Farmer’s Market, I met Mary, a lithe and helpful lass, easy on the eyes.  I inquisited her in re her beef’s pedigree:  Where is your farm located?  What do you feed them?  Do you use drugs?  What is the best cut you have available?  What do you recommend?

Mary, to her credit, was as truthful as she was vivacious:  “I’m not the right person to ask.  I’m a vegetarian.”

You have to give the farmer credit for his marketing acumen.  As for his beef raising skills…

The grass-fed meat had a “different” flavor which I can not describe adequately.  I was struck by a strange sensation at one point during my repast; it reminded me of being on the ocean.  I have no idea why that occurred to me, but I’m all about full disclosure.

The texture contrasted with the grain-fed beef I’m accustomed to consuming.  When the meat fibers separated, it wasn’t a clean break; it was more like a tearing away.  The fibers were sort of “clingy” like when you pull chewing gum off your shoe.  Long fibrous strings of meat clung to the bone.  That was unexpected, and I offer no explanation based upon anything other than conjecture (one might ponder the difference between kernels of corn breaking free and trying to pull a stalk of grass apart).  I couldn’t really discern any difference whilst masticating.

One other thing I noticed which varied from store to farm fare: the farm steak was bloodier in its package than the usual store variety.  However, once cooked and under attack by knife and fork, the farm meat didn’t “ooze” as much juice onto the plate as a store cut.  That was kind of weird, but I guess the grass-fed beef, once cooked, retained more moisture?  I have no idea.

In any event, it was pretty good.  The package came, surprisingly, with two steaks inside, so I had one left over for breakfast (I cooked them both).

Now I’m in search of chicken and pork to compare with store-bought animal flesh…

PD'n Me

A run-in with the law was inevitable.  Others may disagree, but like I’ve always said, honesty is the best policy.

“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”

“No, Deputy, I don’t have a clue.”

“What do you mean you don’t have a clue?”

“My speedometer doesn’t work.”

“I had you at 103.”

“Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yes, sir.  I would have sworn I wasn’t going more than 75.  It was really smooth and the engine was just purring along.”

“Do you know what the speed limit is?”

“Um…55?”

“Well, at least you knew that.”

“Where are you going?”

“Where?”

“Yes, where.”

“I’m not going anywhere.  I’m just going.”

“Where do you live?”

“Over that way someplace.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, sir.  I just turned on roads that looked like fun.  I’m sure my house is over that way somewhere.  If I get lost, I’ll turn on my GPS.”

“What is this, anyway?”

“It’s a TR6.”

“MG?”

“No, sir.  It’s a Triumph.”

“What year?  Looks new.”

“Thanks.  Wish I could take credit for it, but I just bought it last week.  It’s a ’73.”

“I wasn’t even born in ’73.”

“I’ve always wanted one and I waited almost 40 years for this one.  I’m just checking it out.”

“You need to slow down some.”

“Yes, sir.  I agree.  I had no idea I was going that fast.  Honestly, it felt like it was just getting into a groove.”

“You’re going to leave a groove in the road if you keep driving like that.”

“Yes, sir.  You’re perfectly correct.  I’ll keep the speed down a bit.”

“See that you do.”

“Thanks, Deputy.  Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

A day or so ago, I removed the covers inside the boot (don’t forget, it’s British) from the rear lights (warning flashers, turn signals, brake lights, reverse lights) in an attempt to rectify a known problem: one of the reverse lights didn’t work.  I proceeded to troubleshoot the issue as best as I could given my lack of tools, experience, and illumination (hold the laughter).

Electrical Repair Kit

I found, through a disciplined methodology (trial, error, bloodletting), it wasn’t simply a need for a new bulb; one of the dang British light fixtures appeared to be inoperable.  Bravely facing a dearth of usable implements (multi-meter, work light, and, of course, beer), I resigned myself to do some additional research (I’d mention doing a bit of web-surfing at work today, but my boss reads this…so…um…I looked it up in catalogues and parts lists at home after work) before venturing forth again to repair that which would serve to warn unsuspecting drivers of my intention to back the hell up.

Today, I went by the local auto shoppe emporium and boutique and dropped nearly a Benjamin buying knicks, light bulbs, a multi-meter, some anti-freeze, and enough windshield washer fluid to fill the reservoir in the car 17 or 18 times over (oh, I got some knacks, too).  To the swamp I went.

I removed the covers I’d carefully put back in place the other day (why did I put them back on knowing full well I’d be taking them off in a day or so?  I have no clue.) and grasping firmly my fancy multi-meter, I started checking things over.  The results were less than ideal.

The offending member of the light parade was a simple (see: idiotically prone to failure) part:  the bulb holder itself.  I puzzled over the obvious solution:  get the ground on the bulb holder to make a connection to the ground on the car (this part grounds itself, and its snug as a bug in a rug light bulb, to the car’s body through a rather bizarre looking series of prongs (think: octopus meets a Klingon warship)).  The problem was that the little tab dingus which is designed to make a connection to the bulb did not make a connection with the prong-prone whatsis (pardon the technical jargon; maybe it would help to read this as if it were written using a British accent).  Closer inspection just served to make me angry since this stupid little part was so simply designed as to never need repair or replacement (yeah, right).  I cranked my puzzler up another notch.

Dang Brit Electrics

It occurred to me that the bulb retention device was circular in nature, the light bulb touching bit (dingus) was just under the round prong part (whatsis).  What I needed to do was to make them “touch” with something which, in accordance with some whacky laws of physics or chemistry or philosophy, would conduct a magical, unknown substance called “electricity.”  Puzzler: Overdrive.

I took a moment to suck on some puzzler “lubricant” (beer) and was inspired; an idea so brilliant that itself might be used to illuminate the nether reaches of the boot, sans work light.  I had some wire “nippers” (too many words to describe) and a package of tiny washers in a drawer in the kitchen (leftovers from building the house, I suppose).  See where this is going?  ROUND washers, ROUND bulb holder (whatsis)…do you see it?  Once you get ye olde puzzler properly lubed, it’s child’s play to solve life’s many problems…even the time-honored electrical issues associated with all British (and BMW) cars.  I quickly cut one of the washers in half and headed back down to figure out a way to jam the semi-washer in the whatsis to allow the necessary electrons to flow like aqua pura down the River of Dreams.

This Should Work

Locating my Leatherman (did I mention I don’t have any tools?), I tried valiantly to “stuff” the washer (sans half) into a gap which wouldn’t have fit a washer thinner by ten times.  Naturally, I attempted to force it (oft with a sharp knife in my hand).  No joy.

During my treasure hunt, I found a spool of solder (pronounced, “solder”) in the very same kitchen drawer.  Picture this:  I attempted to hold the solder over the bulb holder, heating the solder with a grill lighter, fully expecting a careful drip of melted solder to find its way into the aforementioned bulb holder “gap.”  It might have worked if I could have held the solder/lighter closer to the bulb holder, but since the holder was plastic, that approach was less than ideal.  Turns out the distance required between the lighter/solder/holder was sufficiently sufficient to allow the solder “drip” to cool on its journey; it hardened and “clinked” off the part and bounced to the ground.  What the hell, who knew?

Retiring in disgust, I took up residence in the front seat of my Tahoe (much more comfy whilst one is attempting to stuff things where they won’t fit) and felt the dark veil of defeat begin to descend upon me.  There is NO way in hell I’ll pay good money for such a stupid, silly part!  There MUST be a way!  I’m SCOTTISH, for God’s sake!!!  (Perchance, I swore.)

Catching my breath after a long swig of lubricant, I reached into the console for a napkin (I did mention the knife and “forcing”) and espied a common, ordinary pen.  You know, the ubiquitous kind found in so many company supply rooms (again…my boss reads this stuff…so, um…I bought this pen, and the other 14 just like it in my center console, from Staples).  In this case, it was a Uni Super Ink, which, if the advertising is to be believed, has built into it, some magical ability to stop plagiarism (motto actually printed on the side of the pen: Helps Prevent Document Fraud).  How that works exactly is a subject for another time (lucky you).  Here’s the best part of a Uni Super Ink writing device: it has attached to it something which nerds, engineers, and Trekkies (wait, I repeat myself) find so utterly appealing: a clip to affix it to a pocket/nerd pack.

I ripped the clip off the Uni Super Ink fraud-prevention device with my Leatherman and twisted the end bit, back and forth, until a tiny little piece was extracted.  I used some nearby tweezers (Trim, straight edges, motto on the side:  Helps to Prevent Unsightly Zits) to insert the tiny little piece into the tiny little gap in the bulb holder and VIOLA! That clip was the perfect thickness to make Einstein rejoice in the knowledge that the universe would be made once again whole, electrons flowing from positive to negative (or whatever the hell they do) with reckless abandon. (Oh, the pen ink was blue.  I guess you use pens with red ink for positive connections…but I don’t really know.)

I put a bulb in its natural place and re-attached the lot to the car in its assigned location.  And it was good.

I decided to leave the “Add Windshield Washer Fluid” challenge for another day.  I’ll keep you posted.

“Madam Speaker, thank you for talking to me today,”

“No problem.  I’ve got a lot more time on my hands these days.  About all I have to do is clean out my office, but I’ve got people for that.”

“Right.  So, the Democrats took quite a ‘shellacking’ in the election, as the president put it.”

“Well, I have to agree it didn’t turn out as well as we had hoped.  But there were many positive things.”

“Such as?”

“Well, about half of those Blue Dog Democrats were defeated.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Madam Speaker.  Why is that a good thing?”

“Those guys were a major pain in the ass.  They kept blocking legislation and insisting on something called ‘fiscal discipline.’  I did everything I could to keep money out of their campaigns.  You’d think they never read the Constitution.”

“The Constitution?”

“Sure, the Constitution gives Congress the power to spend money it doesn’t have.”

“Doesn’t that lead to ever increasing deficits and create more debt for the country?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m confused.  Why is that a good thing?”

“If we pass legislation, regardless of whether the American people want it or not, we get reelected to do it again and again.  It’s not important what the legislation is, it’s only important that we pass things.  Do you have any idea how many post offices we named over the past two years?  Say what you will, we were very effective legislators.”

“But didn’t the Republicans, for the most part, vote against the Health Care bill and weren’t many Democrats defeated simply because they voted for the bill along with the Stimulus bill, Wall Street bailouts, and takeovers of the American automotive industry?  In fact, as many races tightened up, many Democrats tried to downplay their votes and some even said they would withdraw support for you as Speaker.”

“Besides being an effective legislator, I raised more money for Democrats than any other member of the House.  I simply withheld money from my enemies and provided more money to candidates who share my progressive ideology.”

“And that ‘ideology’ is what?”

“The underpinning of the American electoral process is money.  Sure we lost more seats in a mid-term election in over 70 years.  That’s not what’s important.  What is important is that we raised about the same amount of money as the Republicans.  That’s the real purpose of politics, to raise money.”

“I thought you said being an effective legislator was the most important characteristic of an elected official and passing more legislation would lead to reelection?  Again, I’m sort of lost here.”

“Look, members of the House and Senate spend most of their time raising money.  That’s why we never read most of the legislation we pass.  We simply don’t have the time.  I mean, you can’t exactly carry a 2,700 page Health Care bill around with you and read it while you’re sitting on the dais at a fund raiser.  People would think you’re rude.  Besides, it’s pretty damned heavy.”

“Ok.  If I understand what you’re saying, you’re running for House minority leader because you’re a great fund raiser?”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t you feel any personal responsibility for the historic losses suffered by your party in the elections?  Aren’t you concerned that you are an incredibly polarizing figure in American politics and exit polls indicate many voters cast their ballots AGAINST you personally rather than FOR the Republican agenda?  Aren’t you worried the Republicans will use the same tactics in 2012, possibly leading to further defeats of your House and Senate members and, possibly, the defeat of your own party’s president?”

“Robert Gibbs learned to never acknowledge such possibilities, even in the face of overwhelming information to the contrary.  So, I don’t discuss such things.  What I can tell you is, I’m a helluva fund raiser and things will go a lot more smoothly in our caucus for the next two years without those troublesome Blue Dogs trying to pay for everything.”

“What’s next for you?”

“Well, I’ve got to replace the drapes in the Minority Leader’s office.  I think Boehner was smoking in there and I hear the place reeks.  Of course, I’ve never been in his office, but I hear things.”

“Thank you for your time, Madam Speaker.”

“You’re welcome.”

[There are a whole bunch of articles and treatises about this scattered and strewn about the web.  If you Google “uninsured Americans” you’ll find all sorts of citations/locations, one of which is certain to hit your [republican, democrat, independent, libertarian, whatever] political sweet spot.  If you’re too damn lazy to do the search, what follows is pretty much the consensus.  Really.]

This is from the American Spectator, 20 March 2009: http://spectator.org/archives/2009/03/20/the-myth-of-the-46-million

Whether it’s in political speeches, commentary, newspaper features, or hard news stories, the statistic of 46 million uninsured is one of the most-widely cited numbers in the health care debate. It promotes the idea that nearly one out of every six Americans does not have access to health care and it plays into the arguments of those calling for massive expansion of government to fix the problem. Yet the ubiquitous figure is highly misleading.

To be clear, the statistic is not pulled out of thin air. It comes from an annual report by the Census Bureau, which most recently pegged the number of uninsured at 45.7 million for 2007. But the problem lies in the way the statistic is commonly cited and understood.

For starters, the statistic does not mean that there are “46 million uninsured Americans,” as the New York Times reported in a recent story on health care, and as is echoed throughout the media. Just a quick look inside the Census Bureau data shows that 9.7 million of the uninsured are not citizens of the United States. Liberals can argue that we still have a moral duty to cover non-citizens, but this doesn’t change the fact that as a matter of accuracy, the Census data only tells us that 36 million Americans are uninsured.

But this doesn’t fully convey the problematic nature of the 46-million statistic. As even the authors of the Census Bureau report themselves acknowledge, “health insurance coverage is likely to be underreported” in the Current Population Survey from which the health insurance data is derived. The reason is that respondents are asked in February through April about their health coverage status in the previous calendar year. Some may answer the question as intended, but others may cite their current insurance status, and others may say they were without insurance even if they only spent a portion of the year without coverage.

“[T]he estimate of the number of people without health insurance,” according to the report, “more closely approximates the number of people who are uninsured at a specific point in time during the year than the number of people uninsured for the entire year.”

In reality, a person who goes without coverage for a few months while between jobs is in a completely different boat from somebody who is permanently without insurance. But the broad citation of the headline figure would have you believe that there are literally 46 million people who never, ever, have coverage.

How many people actually spend the whole year without health insurance? It’s difficult to say, and recent data is hard to come by. But in 2003, the Congressional Budget Office took a stab at answering the question, and looked at two studies from 1998 that conducted interviews multiple times over the course of the survey period. One study pegged the number of people who were uninsured for the entire year at 31 million, while another put it even lower, at 21 million. In either case, the number was significantly lower than it was in 1998′s Current Population Survey, which found 43.9 million uninsured.

Another problem with citing the 46-million figure is that many of those who are identified as uninsured are actually eligible for existing government programs but simply never bothered to enroll. In 2003, a BlueCross BlueShield Association study estimated that about 14 million of the uninsured were eligible for Medicaid and SCHIP. These people would be signed up for government insurance if they ever made it to the emergency room.

In addition, some of the 46 million could theoretically afford health coverage, but chose not to purchase any. In 2007, 17.6 million of the uninsured had annual incomes of more than $50,000 and 9.1 million earned more than $75,000. In fact, as Sally Pipes notes in the Top Ten Myths of American Health Care: A Citizen’s Guide, those making more than $75,000 per year are part of the fastest growing segment of the uninsured population.

The Census figures also show that 18.3 million of the uninsured were under 34. Some in this age group may have simply determined that they are young and healthy and thus can do without coverage.

When all of these factors are put together, the 2003 BlueCross BlueShield study determined that 8.2 million Americans are actually without coverage for the long haul, because they are too poor to purchase health care but earn too much to qualify for government assistance. Even being without insurance still doesn’t mean they won’t have access to care, because federal law forbids hospitals from denying treatment to patients who show up at the emergency rooms.

This exercise isn’t about downplaying the problems facing the American health care system, but a necessary part of devising the proper remedies. Under current state laws, mandates force insurers to provide certain benefits, meaning that young and healthy Americans must choose between paying exorbitant premiums to cover treatments that they don’t need or going without health insurance. Many of these so-called “young invincibles” who are included in the ranks of the uninsured could be wooed into the market were they allowed to purchase catastrophic insurance with lower monthly premiums.

Right now, the tax code exempts people from paying taxes on health care benefits purchased through their employer, while denying the same tax advantages to individuals. Ending this discrimination would make health care more affordable to those who are self-employed or not covered through their workplace. In addition, this would allow Americans to have health care policies that are portable, so it would reduce the gaps in coverage people can face when they quit or lose a job.

Those pushing for a major government intervention in health care are distorting the 46-million statistic to boost their cause, and by disseminating it so widely without further elaboration, the media is rigging the game in their favor.

Bottom Line:  “about” 3.5% of the American population lacks health care insurance.  For the sake of argument, let’s say “about” 10 million.  The Congressional Budget Office pegs the cost of the current health care reform bill at about $1.2 TRILLION.  When you head off to your local Town Hall meeting, stick to the facts and try to be polite (translation:  no swastikas, no effigies, no firearms; wiping boogers under your seat, if you can find one, seems to be “ok”).

Just sayin’.

Some of you are old enough to remember the vernacular employed to discount the importance of protesters from the Civil Rights movement and the anti-Vietnam War movement.  If so, the words of Pelosi, Reid, and Obama should resonate as they attempt to downplay the irate nature of The People’s dissatisfaction with their Health Care reform plans.

Attempting to portray the discontent of the American People (regardless of political affiliation) with the Health Care debacle as “outrageous” or “lunacy” or “right wing motivated” is beyond the pale.

Act UP!  Act NOW!

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

First Amendment to the United States Constitution

“…it does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people’s minds…” — Samuel Adams

“Thus if the First Amendment means anything in this field, it must allow protests even against the moral code that the standard of the day sets for the community.” — William O. Douglas

“We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. We will not be driven by fear into an age of unreason if we remember that we are not descended from fearful men, not from men who feared to write, to speak, to associate and to defend causes which were, for the moment, unpopular.” — Edward R. Murrow

“Agitators are a set of interfering, meddling people, who come down to some perfectly contented class of the community and sow the seeds of discontent amongst them. That is the reason why agitators are so absolutely necessary. Without them, in our incomplete state, there would be no advance towards civilization.” — Oscar Wilde