Picking Things to Bits: Meryl Dorey goes all Freeman-On-The-Land-ish

Because they really do exist.

Back in March, I wrote a little thing about the Freeman-on-the-Land (FOTL) movement, in all its logic-defying wonderfulness (I also wrote a much longer version for the gorgeous and reasonably-priced King's Tribune. If you want the rest of this post to make sense, do pop over and have a little read. If you'd rather not, go and have a cup of tea. I'd love one too please. One sugar.) At that stage, I had a hunch and an inkling that the movement was happening in Australia, but had little idea how close it lay to my everyday realm of outrage.

Now, thanks to the Freedom of Information Act, I can show you a letter to a government body, written with the unmistakable clang of a Freeman-on-the-Land. And the author is none other than our favourite anti-vaccine, anti-medicine, anti-science, anti-most-sensible-things doyenne of the eccentric fringe media, Meryl Dorey.

Before I pop my Picking-Things-To-Bits hat on and take you through the letter one bewildering paragraph at a time, here's a little back-story:

5 May 2012: Meryl Dorey is interviewed on Fairdinkum Radio by Leon Pittard. During the interview, both discuss, promote and gush about Black Salve, an unregistered quack cancer remedy that is claimed by its supporters to safely and selectively remove cancerous tissue (when evidence suggests that it dangerously and indiscriminately burns people's noses off).

May 2012: An anonymous complaint is made to the Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA)'s Complaints Resolution Panel (CRP), because promoting unproven and unregistered cancer treatments is against the law.

January 2013: The CRP determines that the radio interview is in contravention of parts of the Therapeutic Goods Act (1989) and the Therapeutic Goods Advertising Code (2007). You can find the determination here. Ms Dorey and Mr Pittard are requested to respond to the finding.

July 2012: Meryl Dorey responds with the letter I quote below.

You can find a PDF copy of the letter here, and an excellent summary of the whole shemozzle over at Diluted Thinking.

 

So, let's pick it to bits, shall we? I'll begin by introducing the players. 

"Meryl Dorey" - The legal persona of Meryl Dorey, who only exists on paper and is subject to laws and regulations in name only, hereafter called "MERYL DOREY"

"Person's Personal Representative for MERYL DOREY" - Meryl Dorey's Freeman-on-the-Land meatperson, who is free and only subject to nice, cuddly Common Law, hereafter called "Meryl Dorey Meatperson"

"TGA Guy" - the representative from the TGA CRP handling the complaint, who may be wondering what the hell is going on.

It begins...

(Bold is from the original letter. Italic is me being a smartarse.)

"Person's Personal Representative For MERYL DOREY"
This letter is sent to you from Meryl Dorey Meatperson, not from MERYL DOREY.

"TGA Guy In his Private capacity"
This letter is sent to the cuddly meatperson version of TGA Guy, not the legal entity employed by the bastard government corporation who, let's face it, is just doing his job.

"In Regards: OFFER TO SETTLE IN PRIVATE"

I'M ONTO YOU. I know that you're trying to get me to do something, but I have no contract with you, so you can go and get stuffed. You can tell by the way I use words like "offer" and "claim" that I know the secret language of legal things, and you can't trick me into abiding by your 'Acts' and 'Codes'. 

"Dear TGA Guy,

The Person's Personal Representative, after seeking wise council, writes to TGA Guy, today in his Private capacity and humbly and sincerely apologises for any dishonour he may have caused."

Meryl Dorey Meatperson, after talking to some convincing-sounding wingnuts, is sorry if (s)he's come across as dishonourable, because that goes against cuddly Common Law, and that would be just dreadful. Soz.

"The Person's Personal Representative, 

in his Inherent Jurisdiction de jure solum ei naturale, conditionally accepts that TGA Guy has made a well pled claim that, Meryl Dorey has advertised and promoted 'Black Salve' and that Leon Pittard has further promoted and advertised 'Black Salve' by publishing the interview, and offers to settle this matter in private upon TGA Guy in his own private capacity providing true, correct and complete proof; that:"

Meryl Dorey Meatperson has read the letter that says she's in contravention of your so-called 'Act' and your so-called 'Code', but does not agree, because we're dealing with Natural Law (in bad Latin, no less!), so here's what's going to happen. Prove the following things to me, and then we'll talk. 

"Relating a personal condition to anyone constitutes advertising;"
PROVE what I said about Black Salve was advertising in a way that will convince a crazy person. Because I don't think it was advertising. Go on. I dare you.

"The person making the claim has full knowledge of any fees paid for any alleged advertising;"
PROVE that it was a paid advertisement. Because according to the law that I just made up in my head, it's not advertising unless someone gets paid for it.

"The right to free speech is not an inherent right;"
PROVE that I don't have the inherent right to free speech and therefore I can say whatever I like about how awesome it is to burn flesh off yourself and how crap all those other lame-o cancer 'treatments' are. I don't care what your actual laws or the actual Constitution says. It only matters what *I* call free speech.

"Any Corporation has the right to sue any individual in their private capacity;"
PROVE that you have any jurisdiction over me in my made-up fantasy version of the law. Because, see, you're the Corporation, and you're suing me, Meryl Meatperson, and cuddly Common Law says you can't do that. Because I said so. Or Ipsy Dixie, or however you say it in Latin.

"The Persons Personal Representative in his Inherent Jurisdiction is not able to settle this matter in private."
PROVE that I can't just do whatever I want. PROVE that everything in this letter is complete and utter frothy bollocks. I DOUBLE DARE YOU.

"NOTICE - TGA Guy, in his own private capacity, shall have twenty one days (21) from being served to respond by rebutting all of the above -point for point -or it shall be declared that free speech is still an inherent right, and the Person's Personal Representative has the proprietary right to settle all outstanding issues in the private. "
You've got 21 days from receipt of this letter to PROVE everything I asked you to prove in my Very Impressive List above. If you can't prove that my made-up cuddly law and my right to flog flesh-eating codswallop is complete pants, then this conversation is OVER. 

"Sincerely
M.D.
Person's Personal Representative
By Accommodation"
Shaking Up Important Sounding Words In A Bag.

And the TGA's response? "The advertisers did not respond to the substance of the complaint."

PMT

Because maybe it's real and maybe it isn't.

I want to eat dinner again, and then

A little bit more after that. I’m fat.

I’m bothered by every damn thing. I sing

Off-key and I can’t hold a thought. I’m short

With children who don’t want abuse, just juice,

And husbands who just want a smile; and while

I’m searching through odd Tupperware, despair

Takes over and I start to cry. But why?

The Ten Commandments

Because perfect scores are for nerds.

I don’t have any other gods (unless you count caffeine);

I haven’t worshipped idols since Matt Dillon at sixteen;

I sometimes shout out “Jesus!” when my hand’s stuck in a door;

I don’t forget the Sabbath, ‘cause the shops all shut at four;

My Mum and Dad are awesome, and I honour them with cake;

I’ve killed some bugs and spiders, (and a pet mouse by mistake);

I don’t commit adultery (but dream of Jason Bourne);

I stole a pint glass once in London, stumbling home at dawn;

I’ve never borne false witness, neither in nor out of court;

The things I covet most are of the chocolate-covered sort;

At following commandments, I don’t think I’ve done too well;

So pass the gin and grease a goat – I’ll see you all in hell.

The Penguin.

Because some ideas won't go away until you feed them some fish.

I really do like penguins. Especially Emperor Penguins. I've felt the urge to visit them, the urge to cuddle them and the urge to shout "WHY DON'T YOU JUST MOVE TO QUEENSLAND?" whenever I see them. But I've never felt the urge to write about them. Until my darling sister, in one of her rare visits to Twitter, popped this out:

And that was enough to get me thinking. Edgar Allan Poe. The Raven. Antarctic. Penguins. BING!

So here, with sincere apologies for mangling a masterpiece for the sake of whimsy, is a Poem about Penguins in the style of Poe.

Every frigid southern winter, as the sea begins to splinter,

Into slowly-creeping daggers frozen hard with icy hoar;

With the sunlight fast abating, penguins’ fancy turns to mating,

They’ve spent all of summer waiting, waiting patiently offshore;

Eating bucketloads of fish and tiny squid and krill offshore,

‘Til they can’t eat anymore.

Paying heed to ancient yearning, every penguin starts returning,

To the patch where they were hatched, like all their ancestors before.

Sometimes waddling, sometimes sliding, every now and then colliding,

Silent instinct gently guiding, guiding thousands with its draw;

Called to trudge a vast ice-desert by its mute, compelling draw;

Like a well-dressed army corps.

When it’s time to start their courting, male birds wander ‘round, consorting,

Strutting past the nubile females as though on a nightclub floor.

With their masterful displaying, they are elegantly saying,

“Hear my trumpeting and braying!” Braying, “Darling, I implore!

“Lie again with me this year and let’s make babies, I implore!”

Quoth each she-bird, simply: “Phwoar”.

When the deed is done and dusted, to each male an egg’s entrusted;

Warmly sheltered in their pouches, kept aloft behind each claw.

While the mother, done with breeding, and her energy receding,

Waddles off for two months’ feeding, feeding, knowing what’s in store.

Gorging gladly for herself and keeping some of it in store,

For her baby’s hungry craw.

As the females are retreating, and the squally snow starts beating

On the backs of stalwart stayers wanting vainly to withdraw;

Shielded snugly and unknowing from the cruel, relentless blowing

Is the precious cargo, growing, growing fast amidst the roar

Of those blasting, biting blizzards. Safely cloistered from the roar

Nearly sixty days and four.

When the chicks break from their coddling and start working on their waddling,

And the fathers’ famished figures are impoverished and raw,

From a distance come parading mothers calling, serenading,

To their once-plump lovers, fading, fading, creaky-boned and sore,

Who in turn will drag their thinning bodies, weary, spent and sore

For the ocean to restore.

So the cycle keeps repeating: parents parting, parents meeting,

Taking turns to forage, feed and keep the babies they adore.

Several months after conceiving, when the families start perceiving,

That they’re old enough for leaving, leaving huddled on the shore,

Chicks remain in crèches, waiting ‘til their folks come back to shore.

Soon the icy shelf will thaw.

Best Australian Blogs 2013

Because I entered a blog competition with the Australian Writers’ Centre.

I have a lot of lovely things,

I never ask for much.

I’ve love and food and sanctuary

And kids’ clean hair to touch.

But there’s one thing I’m lacking

In this state of ample bliss;

So if you wouldn’t mind please,

Could you vote for me in this?

Follow this link and vote for 'There Should Be A Sign'.

Thanks, lovely people. Thanks for reading me. 

The Equation.

Because everything minus God equals everything.

The sun would still rise and the sun would still set.

The oceans would still be enormous and wet.

The waves would still spray

In that nice splashy way.

There’d still be tornadoes and breezes.

Deciduous leaves would still turn brown and drop.

The mountains would still be quite pointy on top;

The glaciers with snow

And the tides’ ebb and flow

Would still be just so without Jesus.

Large beasts would still prey on the sick and the lame.

The number of cats would stay roughly the same.

Terrestrial signs

Of large footprints in lines

Would still show where dinosaurs trod.

There’d still be new species evolving apace

Bananas would fit just as well in your face;

And nipples on guys

Would still be a surprise

Notwithstanding a wise, mighty god.

There’d still be poor people and conflicts and drought;

There’d still be despots who are evil throughout;

And people who heal,

And who give a great deal,

And devote all their efforts to care.

There’d still be small children who suffer and choke,

There’d still be grandfathers knocked down by a stroke.

It won’t change the chances

Of dying from cancers

If nobody answers a prayer.

Freeman-on-the-land

Because contributing to society is so hard.

Money troubles? Bills piling up? Parking fines? Got the government on your back to do stuff you don't really feel like doing?

Never fear! The Freeman On The Land movement is here! 

Become a Freeman On The Land and you can suddenly decide that the government, contracts, banks and the legal process all work differently for you, and you don't owe them anything. Your debts will be cancelled! Your financial responsibilities will be nil! You can tell police officers, magistrates and government departments to shove it! All based on the erroneous and ridiculous idea that governments are corporations; that laws only apply if you consent to them; and that people are contracted to the 'powers that be' unless they send them a letter saying they're not. 

Although it's been around for decades in one form or another, I came across the Freeman On The Land movement in the last couple of months, with thanks to experienced conspiracy theorists like Leon Pittard of Fairdinkum Radio (have a listen - if you can last longer than ten minutes without your jaw dropping open, you're stronger than me) and South Australian parliamentarian Ann Bressington. 

There's an extremely good run-down of the Freeman On The Land movement over at RationalWiki - I recommend it for some well-researched detail and a few hilarious examples of Freemen in the wild - but in a nutshell, followers of the movement believe:

• The government is a corporation, and all citizens are contracted to that corporation
• Each individual consists of a 'legal person', to whom laws, acts and monetary matters apply, and a 'flesh-and-blood human being', who is free and good and lovely and created by God.
• When a birth is registered, the child is effectively an employee of the government corporation, and has agreed to be governed and abide by laws.
• If you write a special kind of letter called a 'Notice of Understanding and Claim of Right' and send it to the Prime Minister or the Queen or Someone In Charge, you can remove your consent to be governed and abide by laws; and separate your legal person from your meat person. 
• Governments and lawmakers use language designed to make people inadvertently subjugate and obligate themselves to corrupt higher powers, but knowing your way around such language can save you from accidentally agreeing to be a government/corporate slave.

I find the whole concept so deliciously and outstandingly ludicrous that I simply had to try and make it rhyme.

I am a Freeman on the land, I wander wild and free;

The laws of corporate governments do not apply to me.

They try to trick all humankind;

So they can have their pockets lined;

The circumstantial evidence is there for all to see.

I am a Freeman on the land, combating the machine;

I signed a piece of paper and I sent it to the Queen.

It details what I understand;

And all the rights that I demand

Effectively, it wipes my slate of obligation clean.

I am a Freeman on the land, I don’t give my consent;

To statutes, acts or laws, or paying tax or fines or rent.

The bastards use their legalese

To try and trip me up with these,

But I use special words to dodge, evade and circumvent.

I am a Freeman on the land, my language is my craft;

Though corporations stalk me, port and starboard, fore and aft;

I say “Sovereign” and “Natural Law”

And “Court De Jour” and “Man of Straw”

And people know I’m free (that is, the ones who haven’t laughed).

I am a Freeman on the land, my name is not my name:

My legal person’s moniker and I are not the same.

What’s on my birth certificate

Is narrow and specific. It

Does not apply to me, despite what courts and judges claim.

I am a Freeman on the land, I want an easy ride;

I wear my social irresponsibility with pride

I won’t lie down and pay my dues

But I will nonchalantly use

The water, roads and hospitals that governments provide. 

Thank you Meryl Dorey

Because she finally did something right.

Yesterday, NSW Health Minister Jillian Skinner introduced suggested amendments to the Health Care Complaints Act to NSW Parliament (Go read Reasonable Hank and Dr Rachie for more thorough treatment). 

In a nutshell, these amendments make it easier for the NSW Health Care Complaints Commission (HCCC) to respond to complaints about dodgy health service providers. Previously, a complaint had to be backed up by evidence that a health service provider had directly affected the care of an individual. If this bill passes, a complaint can be acted upon if the health of an individual is likely to be affected. 

A subtle difference, perhaps, but the wording of the current Act provided a loophole large enough for Meryl Dorey of the Australian Vaccination Network to slide through when she took the HCCC to court last year. And it was precisely that case that prompted the change. 

That's right. Thanks to Ms Dorey and her AVN, the government has taken a lot of notice of how easy it is for "health" "service" providers such as herself to spread misinformation and endanger the health of families without penalty, and it sounds like that's all going to change. 

I'd like to express my gratitude. This one's for you, Meryl.

If you hadn't thrown your toys at the Health Care Complaints Commission;

If you’d not made special pleading your relentless, lifelong mission;

Then our leaders might not know of your intention to mislead;

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. Thank you very much indeed.

If you’d done the thing that public health officials said you ought:

And just changed your site a bit, instead of taking them to court;

Then the legislation wouldn’t need to change the way it’s lettered.

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. We are very much indebted.

If you’d never bitched and moaned ‘bout how the government’s a farce;

If you’d not said Tanya Plibersek was talking out her arse,

Then they might be more inclined to let you do the things you’ve done.

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. Thanks a lot. I owe you one.

If you’d never drawn attention to the way you run your show;

If associates of yours weren’t just as dangerous and low;

Then they wouldn’t soon be answering to summonses and such.

So thank you, Meryl Dorey. Thank you very, very much.

While we're on the topic, go see the good folk at Stop The AVN, without whom there'd be a lot more anti-vax bollocks in the media. Go on. They're not nearly as nasty as Meryl says.