My renunciation of citizenship is the subject of a feature article at Global Post:

http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/news/regions/europe/111205/stateless-slovakia–renounce-us-citizenship-mike-gogulski

Many have burned their passports as a form of political protest. But Gogulski is one of only two Americans known to be ballsy enough to have filed the paperwork needed to officially become stateless. And he’s hoping to inspire others to do it, too.

[...]

Gogulski says it’s all been worth it. It’s all about proving a point, he says — that the system can’t control him and that citizenship is a silly, anachronistic construct.

He could apply for Slovak citizenship but he likes being stateless. For one thing, it certainly is quite the conversation starter.

Gogulski’s ultimate goal: To start a revolution of sorts in which Americans begin giving up their citizenship and become stateless en masse. Maybe, he says, he can be the symbolic beginning of this movement.

“I know the chances of that are about this small though,” he says, holding his index finger and thumb together in the air.

With that, the bleg. Folks, I could use your help — financial help. With my Bitcoin mining operation blowing up in my face in early August, I’m only now pulling myself out of what has been a long, dark bout of severe depression. A depression awful enough that I haven’t been able to work until just recently.

Needless to say, that leaves a massive hole in my budget. Many things are past due, and I’m not certain how I’m going to make rent this month, just before Christmas.

If you have a bit to spare, please visit my support page, with my gratitude.

Peace,
Mike

A correspondent brought my attention to this important video from Howcast: How To Replace a Lost or Stolen Passport

Click here to view the embedded video.

At 1:34 you can see that the scanned image of my canceled US passport from here has been doctored ever so slightly.

Seeing as we must have shared a womb and all, I do find it strange that Michaela never calls…

A couple months ago there began the annual string of stories about people giving up US citizenship, which almost invariably mention that renunciants’ names are required to be published in the Federal Register.

So I went and checked the Federal Register online. Searched for my name, no result. Located the reports that are periodically filed (“Quarterly Publication of Individuals Who Have Chosen To Expatriate, as Required by Section 6039G”) by the IRS, searched them from the end of 2008 to present. Hmm, I wasn’t there.

Eventually, I was able to track down the IRS employee responsible for compiling those reports, and called her. She seemed a bit taken aback by my call and my request to have my renunciation published, but she took my info (including links to supporting documents on this site) and promised she’d get it done.

Lo and behold! 76 FR 7907 – Quarterly Publication of Individuals, Who Have Chosen To Expatriate, as Required by Section 6039G (PDF, last page)

And that ends that!

(11:07:23 PM) Dora Vancil: hey cutie.. you there?
(11:07:42 PM) mikegogulski: I sure am, darlin’!
(11:07:57 PM) Dora Vancil: Hey hun.. How are you today? Wanna chat for a little? Im bored and wanted to meet new people…
(11:08:08 PM) mikegogulski: is that the “F1″ macro, or the “F2″?
(11:08:22 PM) Dora Vancil: Cool… Well, my name is Amanda Im from S.Florida.. Can I ask you a question?
(11:08:32 PM) mikegogulski: Sure, Amandora, go ahead.
(11:08:46 PM) Dora Vancil: What kinda girls you in to? Are you in to BIG TITS or a BIG BOOTY? ~
(11:08:59 PM) mikegogulski: neither. definitely not a big booty.
(11:09:10 PM) mikegogulski: as for tits, the bigger they are, the poorer they age.
(11:09:14 PM) Dora Vancil: lol.. I have a lot of both!! Wanna see? I have some free time now…
(11:09:25 PM) Dora Vancil: i’m 24
(11:09:49 PM) mikegogulski: I’m 98 and a half
(11:10:04 PM) Dora Vancil: Ok… let me set my web cam up and you can watch me shake my booty!! LOL.. brb
(11:10:09 PM) mikegogulski: oh that’ll be great
(11:10:23 PM) Dora Vancil: Ok! Click here http://www.yourprivateshow.com/mpkz and we’ll have a PRIVATE 1on1 chat..There’s a pic of me in there, if you like Just accept my invite on the side then register and it’ll take you straight to my webcam, I’ll be there in a minute..
(11:11:49 PM) mikegogulski: too bad, your web registration form doesn’t work. i could send you some photos of my flaccid penis, if you like.
(11:12:01 PM) Dora Vancil: click here www.pinkgirlpics.com/amandapix to see some pix. Just register to see them..
(11:13:21 PM) mikegogulski: i’m sorry it doesn’t work. it says “website is blocked by proxy server. your attempt to access it has been logged.” What do i do now?
(11:13:36 PM) Dora Vancil: do it! I DARE YOU!
(11:13:47 PM) mikegogulski: does the “i dare you” thing work often?
(11:14:02 PM) Dora Vancil: There is no charge but its gonna ask you for your credit card info just to verify your age. Im wearing almost nothing and I dont want any kids watching me!! lol..
(11:14:13 PM) mikegogulski: gosh you type quickly
(11:14:25 PM) Dora Vancil: Once you’ve completed that, it’ll automatically redirect you to my webcam page..
(11:14:23 PM) mikegogulski: pity that i don’t have a credit card.
(11:14:38 PM) Dora Vancil: Ok, Im all set up for you baby… Ill be waiting for you in the site http://www.yourprivateshow.com/mpzk hurry! My pussy is dripping…
(11:14:35 PM) mikegogulski: would it be easier if i put all my money in a bag and mailed it to you?
(11:14:46 PM) Dora Vancil: there’s no $$ involved!!
(11:14:59 PM) mikegogulski: oh that’s good, because i only have €€ anyway!
(11:15:14 PM) Dora Vancil: XOXO See you SOON! ::MUAH::
(11:15:22 PM) mikegogulski: you folks sort of amuse me sometimes
(11:15:36 PM) mikegogulski: i’ve had much brighter scammers at the other end of these yahoo pickups, though.
(11:15:48 PM) mikegogulski: how many times do you need to cast before you get a real fish?
(11:16:41 PM) mikegogulski: are you still there, Amandora?
(11:16:47 PM) mikegogulski: i miss you
(11:16:59 PM) mikegogulski: do you like cupcakes?
(11:17:05 PM) mikegogulski: waffles?
(11:17:08 PM) mikegogulski: cheese curds?
(11:17:11 PM) mikegogulski: c’mon, tell me.
(11:17:25 PM) mikegogulski: ice cream?
(11:17:30 PM) mikegogulski: everyone likes ice cream
(11:17:36 PM) mikegogulski: what about potatoes?
(11:17:39 PM) mikegogulski: surely you like potatoes
(11:17:57 PM) mikegogulski: *cry* you’ve gone away!

Jeff Knaebel, R.I.P.

From the Hindustan Times:

American kills self, blames India, US

An American national disturbed over denial of Indian citizenship allegedly committed suicide by immolating himself on a hill at Virat Nagar, around 75km from Jaipur, in the wee hours of January 26. Jeff Knaebel, 72, had been living in Shimla since 1995 and had repeatedly tried to get Indian citizenship. He was from San Francisco in California.

Superintendent of police (Jaipur rural) Mohan Singh said on Thursday, “The deceased has left behind a suicide note which mentions, ‘January 26, Republic Day, 3/4 moon. In protest of cruel incidents of the US and the Indian government, please don’t disturb until the police comes, documents are in the handbag’ (sic). Apart from some papers, Rs45,000 was recovered from the handbag which Knaebel, as per suicide note, wished to be distributed among poor widows.”

Police have recovered five bottles of a chemical, which Knaebel is suspected to have poured on himself, and a lighter from the spot.

The SP said preliminary inquiry revealed Knaebal was a follower of Mahatma Gandhi.

Had moved SC

On May 14 last year, Knaebel, a veteran of the Vietnam War, had approached the Supreme Court seeking political asylum in India.

Knaebel had torn his passport at Rajghat on June 19 in 2009. “After tearing up my passport, I’m stateless,” he had told HT. Arguing his case, Knaebel said US policies were based on war and destruction.

From syadasti Tue Aug 13 22:09:47 1996
Subject: Salvia divinorum
To: visionary@wyoming.com
Date: Tue, 13 Aug 1996 22:09:47 -0400 (EDT)
X-Kibo-Spews: |<180|_06y <a|\| t3a<|-| |_|5|-|0\/\/ t0 \/\/0r|<.
X-Day: Sun Jul 5 07:00:00 EST 1998
X-quip: Candy is dandy, but aspartame is phenylketonuric.
X-PGP-Keyprint: 6B 9F 45 79 AD C6 39 7C 1A B1 94 70 69 02 E5 9C
X-WARNING: DO NOT mail syadasti@iag.net, this account is monitored. Use syadasti@cat.net
X-Mailer: ELM [version 2.4 PL24]
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Content-Length: 2714
Status: RO
I must thank a VPL member for the S. divinorum leaf he sent. This is
wonderful stuff!
This marks the second occasion on which I've used it. Both times I've had
a sensation of external pressure against my body, coming from a discernable
direction. Both times also I've had some experience of what could be thought
of as visuals, but are really much more like visually-interpreted perception
in other dimensions. The second time, I had a mini-vision of rushing past
several windows in a structure like a greenhouse, accompanied by a REALLY
strong sense that I was near something forgotten, yet familiar, and intensely
powerful. I struggled, perhaps too hard, to grasp what it was, but it has
as yet eluded me.
This is the strangest of substances! I also had the terrific experience of
synaestesia with music, something I've never experienced on another compound.
After I smoked my first couple of bowls this last time, I closed my eyes and
let the music work on me (this was some beat-oriented ambient groove by William
Orbit). I was presented with gently waving bands and waves which swayed with
the beat, and vegetable visions where leaves and stems appeared and built upon
each other in time with the development of the music.
Grass grew from the backs of my hands, at least it felt like that. Both times
I've felt the feeling-tone of my tactile sphere change from whatever normal is
to something that tasted-felt sort of orange and green. I get a slight dis-
orientation, some loss of balance and coordination, and the feeling that my
body is extended into these wierd dimensions that I can *see* in my mind's
eye but which are not part of our normal milieu.
That night, as I lay down to sleep, I was startled and fascinated by brilliant
flashes of light and a sense of rushing, rushing behind my eyelids. It didn't
keep me from sleeping, or evoke any profound dreams, but it sure was
interesting. Several times there was the feeling of perceiving a sort of
shimmering barrier or screen between myself and the imaginal realm that I
had briefly visited, and this was hours after the actual experience.
It's most interesting with Salvia that I have fairly strong perceptual
experiences that are not visual, and that do not indeed seem to relate well
to ANY of my normal senses. A person who also partook with us during this
last smoking said he felt that Salvia wanted him (and this is my paraphrasing)
to turn from the reality-perceptual-tunnel through which he normally looked
and see these OTHER things within the Salvia realm.
ThanK you, you-Know-who!
Peace,
Mike
--
Mike Gogulski  +1407327CATS(H) +14078053315(W)
Finger syadasti@cat.net for PGP public key

X-Evidently-Also-Archived here.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Could be because the signatory was attempting to spam something into the petition, I’m not sure yet.

But the domain name used is a treat:

virtualgoodsexchange.tk

So, is that “virtual good sex change” or “virtual goods exchange”? Inquiring minds wanna know!

Henry, 1 April 1992 - 27 June 2010

Henry died yesterday, 27 June 2010, at the age of 18 in Bratislava, Slovakia. I miss you, buddy.

I first met Henry in mid-1994, when my girlfriend-and-future-wife’s mother reported she’d met someone with a cat up for adoption. We went to visit him and found him adorable. Apparently, Henry was the terror of the household, though, and they wanted to get rid of him because he was scaring their new fluffy white kitten. So, after brief deliberation, we brought Henry home to our apartment in Maitland, Florida. Later, we adopted another cat, Liza, from an animal shelter. She got her name from the old song:

There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza
There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.

Henry and Sidney, in Santa Cruz

Henry had been declawed in the front, either in response to his terrorizing the fluffy white kitten, or because his previous owners owned an African gray parrot. Later in life, Henry was to repeatedly demonstrate his deference toward birds, apparently having earned early on from the parrot that beaks and feathers don’t mean food, but painful biting.

Henry traveled extensively. From the apartment we moved to a house in Winter Springs, FL. Later, Henry would find new homes with us in Coon Rapids, MN, Norwich, CT, and Hamden, CT. After my wife and I split, Henry moved with me to Santa Cruz, CA, where he lived in 4 different homes with me and my girlfriend. It was my girlfriend who truly civilized Henry. Where previously he had been rather aloof, preferring mostly to be admired from a distance rather than cuddled or any of that undignified nonsense, she was able to create a connection with him which resulted in long hours sprawled between her blanket-covered legs while she worked on her MacBook. So, too, he was mellowing with age, preferring to stay near the house rather than race off into whatever jungle was closest by to find prey to stalk and animals to beat.

Henry later spent half a year with me between Waukesha and Madison, WI, before heading south again to spend a few months with my sister in Orlando while preparations were underway to move overseas.

Double trouble: Henry in Bratislava, late 2005

Henry came to Bratislava in August, 2004. In early 2005, my girlfriend and I split, and I agreed that Henry should go with her because of the close bond they developed. Later that year, Henry accompanied her to Vilnius, Lithuania, where she’d found a contract teaching English. The next year, though, Henry was to rejoin me in Bratislava, since neither of us thought that her new Asian destination was a particularly good or safe locale for him.

In late 2009, Henry moved with me to Spain, though briefly, before returning to Bratislava with me in February of this year.

In his recent years with me, Henry became more and more attached to me. I used to tell people that he was more and more kitten-like as the years went by. Where previously he would only sleep at the very foot of the bed (preferably on or between my lower legs), he came more and more to sleep up near my head, or sometimes curled against my chest or back. Going-to-sleep and waking-up times were precious to Henry and me both, as he would come stalk across the bed in search of some petting and scratching, and often reciprocate by licking my face or driving his purring snout into my ear.

In August, 2009, Henry started running into the real problems of aging. For some years he had been suffering slightly reduced mobility and flexibility due to arthritis. Now, though, his kidney function weakened substantially. Amid two hospital visits where he was tested, injected and given overnight saline drip infusions, it was determined that his kidney function had deteriorated substantially, little surprise at the then-age of 17. He switched to a special diet for cats with weak kidneys, and improved.

Play... later... 17 March 2003

In March, just after returning from Spain, Henry experienced another setback. He had been developing cataracts for several years, as evidenced by an increasing bluish tint to his pupils. Now, though, he lost almost all of his eyesight over a period of a few weeks, being left only able to perceive broad differences between light and dark. He navigated about with his whiskers and senses of smell and hearing. When he was up and about and wanted to be active, though, he frequently paced in tight circles, always counter-clockwise. He was still the same delightful cuddle-buddy as before, but sometimes a bit frustrated due to this new difficulty.

Last Wednesday, 23 June 2010, Henry started acting very lethargic. He had been enduring some constipation for about a week, but was still able to go, and was somewhat relieved by the addition of some olive oil to his diet. That day also, he started squinting a lot, and had a bit of brownish discharge from the corners of his eyes. The next day was worse, with his energy level very low, more discharge, eyes completely closed all day long, and when he refused a selection of foods in the late evening, I decided it was time for the vet.

We visited the non-stop animal hospital at about 11:30pm on Thursday night. Henry received about 60 minutes of saline infusion, the feline equivalent of Zantac, some antibiotic eye drops and an enema. He also had a blood test, which showed good kidney function but a rather high urea level. We went home, Henry with a cannula still in his foreleg, and with instructions to return the next evening for a check-up and more infusion.

Carrot! I am the boss of you! 24 June 2002

Fortunately, Henry held his business until after we got home, where he promptly experienced total gut blowout in the litterbox as a result of the enema. Feeling better from that and from the infusion, he ate an entire plate of food, and then most of another. Things seemed to be looking up. The next day, though, the lethargy returned with a vengeance, and he often had trouble standing up, seemingly unable to maintain the muscular tension required to keep his back feet close together.  At times, he would go to the litterbox, make a failed attempt, sit down in the box, and then later lay down. Two or three times, I either talked him out of the box or removed him bodily.

Friday was more of the same, with Henry lethargic and sometimes plopping himself down for extended periods in the litterbox. I later wondered if this was some kind of sign, as if he knew it was time and was sort of “throwing away” his body. We went back to the hospital for more infusion and observation that evening, and the doctor wanted to keep him there until morning.

Saturday morning saw me meeting Henry at the hospital. He was miserable to have been there overnight, but calmed a bit with my presence and some proper petting and stroking. There was bad news: Henry was passing blood in his stool, and some kind of mass in his abdomen was evident via palpation. It wasn’t clear what was going on, but cancer was the top worry. The doctors again wanted him back in the evening for more infusion and observation. They also wanted to do a detailed examination to determine the nature of the mass and the cause of the bloody stool. The first word was “laparotomy”, which made me cringe. This is an exploratory surgery in which the abdominal cavity is opened up more or less completely so that all parts can be examined. I inquired about ultrasound and X-ray options, and left without making a decision.

At home, amid bouts of fitful sleep, I thought about what the doctor had said. If they did an ultrasound and nothing showed up, the would have to do surgery anyway to find out what was wrong. Same thing for an X-ray. And if they did find something non-intrusively, they would still have to open him up in order to determine if it was benign, surgically reparable, or perhaps metastatic. Mentally, I was prepared for the very worst, and resolved that if metastatic cancer was found on the operating table that I would give the order for euthanasia.

Henry at the hospital, 27 June 2010

Meeting Henry again at the hospital on Sunday morning found him in seemingly poorer condition. Coaxed out of his cage onto a table, he was barely able to stand, his legs just buckling under him. I spoke with the doctor regarding the choice of procedure, and he agreed there was little sense in doing an ultrasound or X-ray, so he began to prep for surgery. This doctor, who had spent two nights with Henry, would pet and scratch him and call him “Expert”.

I spent about 15 minutes with Henry as preparations were being made, petting him, kissing him, scratching his ears and stroking his nose and face between the eyes. I told him he was going to sleep, and that this might be goodbye.

Around 9:30am, the vet gave Henry a sedative (forgot the name) via his cannula. My buddy flopped over and started to drool a bit even before the full dose was administered. About 10 minutes later, a dose of ketamine was administered (Ketamine? I love that stuff!). I told Henry to enjoy his trip in the eighth dimension, gave him some more petting and scratching even though he was unconscious, and left the room as the vet prepared to intubate him for respiratory support and anesthesia using isoflurane gas. I went out to smoke a cigarette, then returned to the front room of the clinic to read and wait, nervously.

Just after 10am, the doctor came out to discuss the findings. The surgeon had located a cyst on Henry’s pancreas, and they had drained it into a syringe, resulting in maybe 3cc of clear fluid. They said his abdominal cavity had an overall yellowish color, which could indicate a liver problem, feline leukemia or FIV, the feline equivalent of HIV. Also, one of his adrenal glands was significantly enlarged. There was no chance to remove or biopsy the adrenal gland, the surgeon saying that attempting to do so would likely result in Henry’s death. No intestinal blockage was found, and no cause for the bloody stool determined. Absent a clear sign of metastatic cancer, I ordered Henry sewn back up, and tests conducted for liver function, feline leukemia and FIV.

About 10:30, the latter two tests came back negative, and Henry was in recovery. I went into the surgery and visited him, where he still lay unconscious while the drugs wore off. I was very relieved, and hopeful that he would recover. I went home, the doctor telling me that he’d phone with the liver test results, and planning to visit Henry that evening after he’d awakened.

Just after noon, the doctor called. “His heart failed,” he said, “about 20 minutes ago.”

I returned to the hospital immediately. There was my buddy, dead on the table. I stroked him, cried, and told him I love him. He was still so soft and lovely — but cold.

The doctor said that Henry had been recovering normally. During surgery, his heart and lung function had been strong. Apparently, though, as the anesthesia and sedation began to wear off, some kind of shock set in, and his heart began slowing down. Resuscitation was attempted to no avail, and Henry died around 11:50am.

At about 8pm, Henry was laid to rest following a brief ceremony in Devín, Slovakia, at the confluence of the Morava and Danube Rivers. I, my friend and her daughter threw some items into the river to prepare the way for him: two of his food dishes, several handfuls of food and treats, some catnip spray, his green catnip-infused toy frog, two toys my friend had made for him, some loose tobacco and a pack of cigarettes, some coins to pay the ferryman and a laminated card with the photo above and the legend: “Henry, 1 April 1992 – 27 June 2010. You are missed by many.” And then Henry’s body went into the river, and now lies someplace between there and the Black Sea. My friend and I drank a toast of brandy to Henry, and cast our glasses into the water.

For the past five days, the lights in the stairwell have been out of order. Either a fuse blew or something went wonky in the wiring which serves to link all five levels’ lighting up to the same five switches.

I did the eight-landing journey, up and down, twice, in the darkness, thinking all the while, “gee, I should have brought my flashlight” (or “torch”, depending on what you call them in your country). On a few later journeys I used my cigarette lighter, which is somewhat problematic given how hot the thing gets.

It finally occurred to me just now, coming back home, to use the display on my mobile (or “cell”, depending on …) phone as a light source. Two flights up, I met a couple on their way down, also using their phones for illumination.

“Náš moderný svet,” (“Our modern world”) I remarked, with a sigh, thinking how ridiculous it was to be living without lights in the stairwell for five days.

“No veľmi moderný!” (“Very modern!”) replied the man, thinking how decidedly modern it is to light one’s way with a phone.