Someone needs to document the destruction of the Bike Trail:

(top left) A junky couple and their toddler are moving off of the ridge on the south side of the railroad tracks (Santa Ana River Bike Trail, Katella St. entrance, at Struck) they are moving from 'Camp Stench O' Death,' above the run-off tunnel with it's decomposing corpses, to the north side of the tracks; the junky family killed the trees on the ridge by putting rocks on the sprinklers, to keep dry. 

 They had to moved to the north side of the tracks for shade (top right), "For the sake of our child," but they were told by the 'campers' that there is no 'room at the inn' and to "go across the street and tear down Nancy's drawing blind." My drawing blind has been there for forty years, Junky mom did exactly that and converted the area into Junky Hovel for her drug addicted family (center), while grabbing my stuff and shouting, "I have permission form Chris!"

Chris (upper left) is the self appointed king of Camp Cash Grab, dedicated to running off intruders, I'm guessing he has been promised a cut of the anticipated multi-million dollar Federal Civil Rights damages award that their drug dealer is fronting them drugs on. Chris and his wife Elaine come to me every few weeks to tell me that the area has to look perfect for Judge Carter's walk through. Elaine sweeps the dirt that used to be a lush green grassy cul-de-sec for horses, before the drug addicted civil rights Plaintiffs took over the park. 

The Federal Case is about the County Landscapers Hauling Homeless Camps away, as if they are trash, (which they are), the theory offered by the Plaintiffs, that the Civil Rights of the downtrodden have been violated, seems less than laudable to me, considering that the possessions at issue are drug stashes, drug dens, drug labs, and generally speaking hovels for the furtherance of unlawful activities. None of the 'Camps' are wilderness worthy and none of the 'Campers,' are 'homeless,' they are, rather, electing to live in the catered lap of luxury that the Christian charities provide to mentally ill drug addicted violent repeat offenders, who have opted to save their money for drugs, instead of rent, while the State and charities foot the bill.

Junky mom started her move by chain smoking copious quantities of speed, (speed doused Marlboros, behind the red curtain, puffing like a madwoman), which gave her the energy to fill a shopping cart full of rocks with which to cover the sprinklers.

When Junky Dad got home the family socked in for a marijuana smoke out. I asked her to please leave and give me back my stuff, stating, "What you are doing is harassment, and it is criminally actionable," she went off on me, 'fuck you, we were invited here by Chris." I pointed out that, "I have nothing to do with Chris; Camp Cash Grab across the street and their federal case against the County is ridiculous." She told me to go fuck myself; her dog was barking, lunging at the end of his chain, so I gave him a great big hug, he really liked that, as an animal care professional I know how to read the signs. His sign read, 'No one ever pets me, they just tie me up here all day and they go off to do drugs." Junky Mom's spouse was yelling, in a shrill whining voice about his rights, pot smoke billowing out of their 'tent,' he was barely clothed exposing copious full color body tattoos like a little weasel white hill billy version of a samurai. I asked Junky Mom how her kid could breathe in all of that; just standing nearby my eyes were watering. Their toddler darted out past 'Dad of the Year,' still shouting at me about his rights; the little girl began pulling the berries off of a wild asparagus fern, popping them into her mouth like Pez. Stunned, I asked, "You know those are toxic right?" Junky Mom didn't answer, later someone told me that she is illiterate and probably does not know what the word 'toxic' means. the little girl looked nothing like either parent; tiny emaciated speed freaks, with long drawn faces their toddler was a big, fat faced curly blond who looked more like a boy; a career of drug addiction had impaired their judgment; I added, "Those lilies that she is standing on cause esophageal hemorrhaging," Junky Mom stared dumbly through me, waiting for me to leave so that she could get back to her high: "If your kid decides to chomp down on one of those plants she will be dead before the paramedics get here."

This is an invasive species; we need the landscapers to week out encroaching plants, and keep the flora in equilibrium:

 The pot smoke-outs are a regular practice, on April 5, 2017, two additional kids joined the group, zipped up tight into the tent in 90 degree weather. I left a note on a rock, "Dear Asshole Squatter Family, Please Leave. I have been drawing here for forty years, this is my work space." The problem is that when I arrive to draw at 6AM she is in a screaming speed rage, like a banshee, this morning she was screaming, "He got her, he got her!" I have no idea of who 'he' got, but cop cars were careening in and out, 'he' must have brought 'her' back because when I left three kids and two adults were sealing themselves into the olive tent for a smoke-out: AKA Choke Out.
I walked across the street to Camp Cash Grab, two of the pedophiles living there and a batterer, along with about ten antisocial armed mentally ill violent repeat offenders, all drug addicted, some drunk, greeted me with their pit bulls: It's obvious why they squatted next to me; Junky Mom and Junky Dad of the Year had moved their family to the park for one-stop drug shopping. The drug dealer likes to bunch his customers up because it means saving on drug runner costs. The runner is called 'ice cream man,' a version of 'candy man' wherein his ghetto blaster tunes can be heard a quarter mile away, and everyone 'comes a runnin,' just like kids for pop cycles. The large blue tent (below right) behind foliage is a meth lab. Since everyone who I have encountered there and up and down the bike trail seems to have a meth habit I'm guessing that business is booming.

Judge Carter, is presiding over the cash grab fed case; a genuinely stupid man, he probably can not put the obvious 'two and two together,' that Civil Rights, in this case, means the right to exploit the County in a fraudulent law suit which amounts to a cash grab for drug money. Using the County for a cash cow probably seemed like a good idea at the time, certainly to the dealer fronting drugs on the promise of a multi-million dollar damages award, but now, all of the 'campers,' are in a cold sweat, panicked fights break out all of the time, I'm guessing because failing a court case pay-off they probably will have to pay the dealer with their lives. 

This man, pictured in Junky Mom's camp, is not the father of her kid, he is in fact, a pedophile from across the bike trail, Dad of the Year is gone because he and Junky Mom had a fight at dawn of the previous day, (so what else is new) then the pedophile moved into the nursery. I don't know the details, but maybe Junky Mom's call to arms, "He got her, he got her," this morning had something to do with the various players in her drama yesterday morning. She is such a venomous hissing cobra that I make my encounters short if not sweet, "I'm working here so, you need to leave."

On the Thursday before Junky Mom decided to squat in my blind, the ACLU had asked me if I had any pictures that would help the Plaintiff's case, I said, "I have forty years of pictures of exactly what you are suing the landscapers and the county for doing; going into the protected wild life areas and pulling out tarp 'tents,' makeshift latrines, garbage, dirty needles, stolen bikes, and drug stashes right?" 

Only now 'friends' of the homeless; gullible Christian groups, give out real tents, so that it looks like the Plaintiffs have a legitimate case, based on unlawfully removed 'Camps,' and valuables: In gratitude the 'least of these' stole the truck that the tents were delivered in. 

As though malicious predators are normal every day men, down on their luck; with no career opportunities, due to a bad economy. To me they look like opportunists, degenerates, but to the court they look like the victims of Civil Rights abuse. The ACLU, has no photos, of the dastardly County workers divesting the poor homeless of their valuables: Attorney Brook, explained, "We have no case if we have no evidence!" I corrected her, "You mean that you have no case because you have no evidence (of civil rights violations)." Neither Plaintiff has shown up for any court dates; they invariably stand up their UCLA escorts in order to keep 'valuable' time available for drug consumption. If the Plaintiffs can not be bothered to show up, even when catered to, coddled, and coached by the best ACLU lawyers in the county, maybe that is a clue that the case is bogus.
The ACLU, never the less, treks down to the Santa Ana River Bike Trail regularly for prep & pep' client talks; the next day Judge Carter shows up for a walk through the area at issue, the two Plaintiffs described their case as theft and destruction of personal property, in violation of their civil rights, insisting that the Defendants (hard working landscapers) know the difference between valuables and junk and set out deliberately to deprive the poor downtrodden homeless of the few possessions that they have left in life -violins please. I remember this picture, taken of the landscape gardeners, in 2001 (I told the gardeners that if they blocked the road again I would take pictures of the bike accidents that they were sure to cause. They kept parking in the middle of the road anyway. (I'm guessing that they don't speak English.)

To the drug addicts, who are suing the County, their 'valuables' are their junk (drugs), I pointed that out to Brook, the ACLU's primary coach, "These are junkies; drug addicts do not have 'valuables;' their valuables are their drug stashes: if they had valuables they probably would be living in houses in the suburbs where they would keep their possessions and money, but they are living in a park in squalid hovels with their drug stashes, because aside from drugs everything in life is trash to them; the drug dealer gets all of their money. 
 

 The tunnel lords are not engaged in legitimate occupations. Before he fell off of an overpass to his death, last year, Indian Tony sued Google for 4 Billion (Capital B) dollars: He won, because he pinched the copyright to GPS. He did not really have anything to do with the program, but he asked me about it, and since I had worked on converting Einstein's time equations to practical application  via Google satellites, I told him about it, and he, like any other scammer, claimed something that actually belonged to someone else was his, which is lawful; possession is nine tenths of the law. He simply signed the unsigned copyright over to himself as if he owned it. Let that be a lesson; always copyright your work. Google paid in two increment checks every month like clockwork, about one hundred thousand dollars every month, which Tony spent on various benders, when he dived off of an overpass into the dry river, his wife kept cashing the checks; lawful;  if she had bothered to pay the IRS: It's their money now. I explained all of that to her, before the fact, and I hired a financial planner to put everything in trust for their daughter. No time for all of that when drugs need to be gotten. Or maybe thieves do not trust anyone, or maybe they think that they are too smart to waste their valuable time with working people and our silly theories about paying taxes. In any event the money is official frozen, and considering how much interest the IRS is enjoying, it won't thaw for a while. 

They steal possessions from suburbanites, to sell for cash for drugs. Top Ten attorney and Federal Case Advisor, Brook, looked at me as if she thought that I was kidding, I added, "I'm not joking, everything that your Plaintiffs posses is either stolen or given to them by Christian charities who are sucking in the pity dollar from parishioners; it's a game of 'intercept the cash stream;' a ruse to make this look like it's not about drug addicted predators with a cash grab scam. 

When these addicts are not doing drugs they are stealing to get money to buy drugs, when they get their drugs they are happy until they come down from the high, and then they spend their remaining waking hours talking about killing, whipping themselves up into a frothing rage; killing each other, killing intruders, killing the wildlife, killing passers by, killing cops, that is what drug addicts do, they get high, and when they come down they are obsessed with killing. Every weapon and burglary tool imaginable is in that camp. Before day light when they are brandishing knives, guns, ninja arms and warring with each other, it's like the Scottish clan marauders of the twelve hundreds; rampaging barbarians screaming and yelling killing everything that moves. Carnage and casings are all that's left."

I told Brook that I have pictures of the run-off tunnels that gag you from the stench of rotting corpses, and tapes of Chris and his 'Camp Cash Grab' marshals rambling on and on in endless speed diatribes about their macabre debauchery, a non stop soliloquy about mutilating victims; human and animal, it's sickening and unending: These are not people down on their luck, they are not the sorry sad victims of County indifference, these are vicious malevolent antisocial violent repeat offenders having a field day exploiting the federal court system, and they are irreparably mentally ill.
The plaintiff's valuables and their precious civil rights have not been stolen or violated, to the contrary, the Plaintiffs are exploiting and violating the rights of tax payers, whose use of the Park has been stolen by drug racketeers.

 
These 'Plaintiffs,' are career addicts, they spend their down time breaking into cars at Angel Stadium, and destroying the Park wildlife with 'target practice,' so far they have killed 47 Coyotes, and plan to kill the remaining three, King Chris of Camp Cash Grab, and his Marshals, endlessly harass me with, "Nancy if you see anything unusual you come straight to us and tell us, we patrol here 24/7," except that they are not 'patrolling' they are hunting, rampaging and ranting day and night. This morning Junky Mom and Dad of the Year were fighting ferociously, then dad left and a pedophile from Chris' Camp Cash Grab socked into the nursery: I approached the Orange PD cop with the most stripes, he said, "How do you know it's a pedophile?" I said, "Randy told me, Randy is in one of the tents, and he told me that two pedophiles, and some sex offenders were there, he said that there were a lot of people in and out of jail for wife beating as well." The striped cop said, "Well, that I know about, yes, there are a lot of batterers in that camp." I asked him if he knows about the meth lab, he said he would check it out.

He (Sgt. McMullin) never did check out the meth lab, I saw two bike cops cruise past the next day, but they did not stop. The drug lab is in the blue tent; far left. In the background are about ten British Petroleum storage tanks. The generator for the lab runs 24/7, yet there is never a light on, and the weather is hot, maybe they are running an air conditioner, the lab is completely sealed off in plastic, but, let me go out on a limb here and take a wild guess; my guess is that they are hiding something in there, and it is not a surprise party pinnatta. Sgt. McMullin might yet determine that the drug addicts  are 'just keeping in the cold air from air conditioners.' Cops tend to say something stupid like that when there is a lot of money to be had.

I have lived in the Homeless community for decades, I have known the king and queen of Camp Cash Grab, Chris and Elaine, for about twenty years, frequenting the same places, King Chris sold me the bike that I am riding, and I bought a bike seat cover for it from him, it was really nice, very pricy, unfortunately he stole it back the next day while I was a Mary's Kitchen, so, I can say with certainty, having interacted with King Chris and his wife, Queen Elaine, and all of their (emphasis on THEIR friends, not my friends), including their most recent acquisitions, Junky Mom & Dad of the Year, that they are in need of serious drug rehab. As long as these drug addicted illiterates are all bunched together in one big colony social services could insert a drug rehab counselor into the mix; a 'Drug Rehabilitation Tent,' with a cop or two in attendance. I guarantee you that proximity to authority would empty out the colony instantly. (Which would be such a relief for the tax payers who are invested in -but unable to use- the park for legitimate purposes. (King Chris, his dog Marissa, and his wife Elaine, are not concerned with the legitimate use of the Park). 

 There seems to be room in the center of Camp Cash Grab for a social services rehab tent, and it would be good training for homeless outreach Officers Bean and Bailey to move into a tent surrounded by mentally ill drug addicted violent repeat offenders. It would give them first hand knowledge, which every police officer needs. They might even live to tell about it. 

I have not been at the River since Friday because Mexican teenagers on Cholo bikes (the little heavy duty bikes that they zip around on- riding standing up with their underwear showing) buzzed right into Camp Cash Grab, and lurked around for half an hour at 6AM, I started taking their pictures and they left, but it occurred to me that gangs go into the camps and set people on fire as a right of passage, King Chris told me that gangs have been raiding their camp frequently, so, I vacated what is left of my drawing blind across the street from Camp Cash Grad. I might be there in the morning, though. My bills are all paid by the Buddhist temple in Little Saigon, that I fund raise for, it takes about three days, and then I am free for the rest of the month, to draw nature, portraits, or illustrations for Buddhist publications; after the third of the month that is what I do: 

I notice that the ever expanding hovel built by Junky Mom & Dad of the Year -by tearing down my drawing blind and squatting on top of it- at King Chris' invitation, according to Junky Mom, "Fuck You, we were invited here by Chris," is hosting several drug addicted pedophiles and two additional babies. This makes me suspect that their little girl is being used as a cash cow. I guess when she becomes school age it will be obvious, by then she will have no short term memory left at all, from being subjected to a steady stream of pot smoke, and her cardiovascular system will be shot, from Junky Mom & Dad of the Year blowing clouds of speed smoke into her face, (which means more State money for Junky Mom & Dad of the Year; having a kid in 'special ed' pays one thousand per month in tutor cash distributions and another two thousand in State money for special needs expenses). Junky Mom is dark but does not sound Mexican, she sounds more like she is European, maybe from Romania. The Roma believe that it is evil to educate their children. As we all know it is politically incorrect to cast aspersions on the eccentricities of other cultures. But if their kids grow up to rape, rob, and kill you, well, you have only yourself to blame. Hitler successfully sought to extermination of the Jews after casting them in that light: why are we waiting for that eventuality to happen to illegal aliens, why aren't we educating them instead of vilifying them! 

Every Mexican family stuffs at least one of their six kids with lead candy; all chili candy made in Mexico is processed with lead, the five families who own the processing empires do not eat the candy, in fact no literate person would feed it to their kids, but, illiterates are on their own; Mexico is stratified deliberately; any form of oppression is OK with the ruling class. Here, poisoning people is unlawful, but Mexicans who come here are not willing to give up their ways, plus, here we pay parents who poison their kids; we give them social services, and we give the kids and the parents cradle-to-grave care and benefits. John Henry Day Center is full of kids, in an arrested state of development, who ate lead poisoned candy, so is the Paul Bunion School. The parents are perplexed that lunch consists of chips instead of a meal; I'm not baffled at all: The person in charge is getting donated chips and pocketing the Federal lunch location. I know a lot of people who sign on as tutors to get a kick-back from the school district payout that parents of mentally challenged kids are given to hire 'special needs' tutors, yes, it is fraud, but people in the homeless community seems to be pulling it off, so, I guess no one from Child Protective Services checks or cares. Perhaps getting a fake teaching credential is easy: For one thousand dollars per month, where there is a will, money finds a way.

Junky Mom & Dad of the Year, never clean up their dog's poop I guess because it is on my door step, not theirs, or maybe they are too lazy when emptying their latrine bucket (white bucket) into the river, to put their dog's poop into the bucket and dump it in the river as well. 

Actually, everyone in Camp Cash Grab across the Bike Trail, dumps their shit buckets under the bushes or into the river, I wonder if the health department might figure out a way to deal with that in a more sanitary manner. I'm guessing that the health department would prefer to believe that all forty or fifty of the stoners in Camp Cash Grab and Camp Stench-O-Death make regular treks up the half mile path to the rest room. I have never seen any of those people at the rest rooms. Mentally ill people are baffling. I don't have any history of mental illness, nor do I have any convictions. I did my internship in computer/copyright law at CPSR, a Stanford Think Tank, (Computer Professionals for Social Responsibility is the sister think tank of The Frontier Foundation) I write policy papers for the white house, and I work on Presidential Task Force projects and reports. (It's really boring because all that is required to be on a Presidential Task Force is that you give the Administration a donation of over one hundred thousand dollars, so, you get a lot of dumb bunnies with money mistaking a stream of verbiage for an oracle; AKA pontificating idiots prattling on and on about nothing, the Koch brothers fall into that category: CATO is their Think Tank, I did a stint there, it was incomprehensibly tedious, fortunately now they have branched out into Judicial Analysis, serious minded and worthy of respect. The President calls each and every one of the Task Force contributors regularly (no matter how tedious) to ask for their input and advice, but at least he does not have to write their crap down, I do, because I am a Legal Analytical Writer, and that is what scholars in my field do: we analyze a lot of useless crap: Legal Analysis for Policy Papers.