Teddy Roosevelt once called Mother Jones “the most dangerous woman in America” when she was 87 years old.


Mary Harris Jones, or “Mother Jones”, was born to a tenant farmer in Cork, Ireland, in 1837. Her family fled the potato famine when she was just 10, resettling in Toronto . She immigrated to North America with her family as a child to escape the Irish famine. She spent her early years in Canada and trained to be a dressmaker and teacher.

She trained to be a teacher and took a job in Memphis, where on the eve of the Civil War she married George Jones, a union foundry worker and started a family. In 1867, a yellow fever epidemic swept through the city, taking the lives of her husband and all four children. A widow at 30, she moved to Chicago and built a successful dressmaking business – only to lose everything in the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Jones then threw herself into the city’s bustling labor movement, where she worked in obscurity for the next 20 years. By the turn of the century, she emerged as a charismatic speaker and one of the country’s leading labor organizers, co-founding the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW).

She traveled the country to wherever there was labor struggle, sometimes evading company security by wading the riverbed into town, earning her the nickname “The Miner’s Angel.” She used storytelling, the Bible, humor, and even coarse language to reach a crowd.

Mother Jones was deeply affected by the “machine-gun massacre” in Ludlow, Colo., when National Guardsmen raided a tent colony of striking miners and their families, killing 20 people—mostly women and children. She traveled the country, telling the story, and testified before the U.S. Congress.

In addition to miners, Mother Jones also was very concerned about child workers. During a silk strike in Philadelphia, 100,000 workers—including 16,000 children—left their jobs over a demand that their workweek be cut from 60 to 55 hours. To attract attention to the cause of abolishing child labor, in 1903, she led a children’s march of 100 children from the textile mills of Philadelphia to New York City “to show the New York millionaires our grievances.” She led the children all the way to President Theodore Roosevelt’s Long Island home.

Jones also had little patience for hesitation, volunteering to lead a strike “if there were no men present.”

A passionate critic of child labor, she organized a children’s march from Philadelphia to the home of Theodore Roosevelt in Oyster Bay, New York with banners reading, “We want to go to school and not the mines!” At the age of 88, she published a first-person account of her time in the labor movement called The Autobiography of Mother Jones (1925). She died at the age of 93 and is buried at a miners’ cemetery in Mt. Olive, Illinois.

She said: “I asked a man in prison once how he happened to be there and he said he had stolen a pair of shoes. I said if he had stolen a railroad, he would be a United States Senator.”

She said: “Whatever the fight, don’t be ladylike.”


Collins, Gail. America’s Women, 2003, p. 287-289; The Illinois Labor History Society,; photo from George Meany Memorial Archives and The Writer’s Almanac  by Prairie Home Productions.





You will find thousands of videos of those paid to be our protectors and public servants beating women, blacks, whites, people in wheelchairs, kicking women, beating people senseless in jails. You will also find people saying that cops have a hard, unrewarding job and should be respected for their service.

Yes, it is true that we need special people for protection, but the problem here is that we have hired people unfit for that job. De-escalating volatile situations should be the prime objective of law enforcement, yet it is not that way.

This confuses us, as many are beginning to believe that the entire system needs to fall to correct faults that can be surely be corrected with a  more care in hiring law enforcement personnel.

We need to weed out these bad cops and develop screening tests that must be passed before the badges, the guns and the nightsticks are handed out. Surely, we are capable of correcting this as a society.

How do we do this? Only by raising our voices, taking videos of traffic stops, demanding cameras in jail cells can we make a difference. As usual, it is up to you and I as individuals to right these wrongs and change for the better. We have much work to do. We need to do it.



Claire Bernish
July 24, 2015 

(ANTIMEDIA) Washington, D.C. — A bill with bipartisan support introduced in Congress this week is finally tolling the death knell for cannabis prohibition. By removing a notorious legal contradiction, the legislation would give precedence to state marijuana laws—making federal enforcement a thing of the past in states where medical and recreational weed are legal.

While its brevity is astonishing—without the obligatory title pomp, it would struggle to take up a single page—the legislation is capable of ending perhaps the most contentious provision in the ubiquitous War on Drugs. Simply titled the “Respect State Marijuana Laws Act of 2015,” the bill introduced by Rep. Dana Rohrabacher has incredible potential for substantial reform that makes its passage of paramount importance.

Like a pebble thrown into a still pond, once federal cannabis law is essentially nullified, states where lawmakers were previously reluctant to approve medical or even recreational use will be far likelier to approve decriminalization. As ripples go, once constituents see neighboring states end prohibition, the chance exists for those states with even the harshest pot penalties to succumb to public pressure and follow suit. It’s entirely feasible to expect the death of cannabis prohibition altogether, resulting from this single-sentence legislation.

From there, the ripples become waves.

If the de facto elimination of prohibition passes, the true beauty of the legislation will begin to shine. Consider the U.S. claim to fame as the world’s leading jailer of its citizens—a notorious achievement resulting from the insanity of sentencing due to the plant’s inexplicable designation as a Schedule I substance (Could there be any clearer evidence the War on Drugs is purely for government profit than lumping pot with heroin? But I digress). Removing the possibility for such penalties would immediately ease prison overcrowding and free court dockets to begin to deal with more serious criminal cases.

And that’s not all.

Besides the legal benefits, there are myriad beneficial economic corollaries stemming from passage of this little bill. Consider Colorado. In the state’s first year of legal weed, tax and licensing revenue alone topped $60 million—most of which the state devoted to school construction. That figure—though less than the anticipated $100 million—sharply contrasts the estimated $145 million Colorado had previously been spending to enforce cannabis laws, according to a 2010 Harvard study. With America’s seriously sketchy infrastructure in desperate need of repair and improvement, schools around the country in total disrepair, and countless other improvements in every state waiting to happen, there are endless possibilities. Ending cannabis prohibition would benefit everyone—ironically enough, even those who somehow still believe negative propaganda.

If ending prohibition takes away any possible legal consequences, people whose only ostensible criminal activity involves cannabis suddenly aren’t able to incur a related arrest record. This would make employment possible for countless people, not to mention better jobs for those who were previously constrained by a “dubious” criminal history. It’s even feasible to expect consequent additional legislation to stem from the original bill that would expunge past offenses related to cannabis. The total effect is destigmatization of the consumption and cultivation of a plant.

And that still isn’t it.

According to the latest figures available from the ACLU, the cost of enforcement of laws for pot possession alone are simply inexcusable—more than $3.6 billion each year. New York City is a prime example of the inanity of arrests resulting from unnecessary laws. In 1991, there were less than 800 total arrests for pot—but by 2010, less than two decades later, that number was a whopping 59,000. And the bias against minorities for those arrests is stunning, too—though cannabis use remains rather even regardless of race, black people are almost four times likelier to be arrested for possession. While ending cannabis prohibition won’t end institutionalized racism in America, it’s certainly a significant step forward in the effort.

There are plenty of other positive repercussions should this bill become law. It might just be time to get to know your Congresspeople a little better. Find your representatives by clicking here and for your senators click here.

This article (This Bill Will Finally End Cannabis Prohibition) is free and open source. You have permission to republish this article under a Creative Commons license with attribution to Claire Bernish and theAntiMedia.orgAnti-Media Radio airs weeknights at 11pm Eastern/8pm Pacific. If you spot a typo, email



The study, researched by the United Food & Commercial Workers International Union and published Wednesday in a report by Americans for Tax Fairness, found 90 percent of Wal-Mart’s overseas assets are owned by subsidiaries in Luxembourg and the Netherlands, two of the most popular corporate tax havens.

The Geometry of Circles

images-1Is it arbitrary that a circle had 360 degrees and angles bisecting a circle reduce to the number 9?

Thomas W. Yale writes:

I’ll go over the items in this video one by one:

1. “Why are there 360 degrees in a circle?” The system of measuring 360 degrees in a circle originates from ancient Babylonian mathematicians who used a base 60 or sexagesimal number system, in contrast to the base 10 or decimal system we use today. The reason they used it was that the number 60 is a highly composite number having factors of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 12, 15, 20, 30, 60–including those that are themselves composite–thus facilitating calculations with fractions.

2. “Do you think this is arbitrary?” Based on this fact in the history of mathematics, yes.

3. “The resulting angle always reduces to 9” (i.e. the continuous addition of all digits in an angle until they’re a single digit always results in 9). Well, that’s not surprising. If you do the same thing in any other base number system, the same type of addition will always result in the digit one less than the base. For example, if you use base 60 or sexagesimal, the result will always be 59. If you use base 6 or hexadecimal, it will always be 5. If you use base 2 or binary, it will always be 1.

4. “Is there a divine code embedded in our number system?” It all depends on how you define a “divine code”. A code is either a set of rules, principles or laws, a coding system used for transmitting messages requiring secrecy, or computer code, a set of instructions in a program. The video doesn’t specify which sense of “code” is meant.

5. “Vortex Based Mathematics says yes.” Then it’s answering a question with a vague term which is as yet undefined. Moreover, a vortex is a powerful circular current of water or the shape of something rotating rapidly. Why is a form of mathematics that implies use on vortexes being used with respect to a stationary geometrical shape?

6. “Let’s examine the sum of the angles in regular polygons.” See 3.

7. “Meaningless numerology?” Numerology is by definition meaningless since it’s the study of supposed occult influence of numbers on human affairs, which makes this question a little redundant.

8. “Or divine symmetry?” It’s symmetry, period, with no need of modification.

9. “Converging into a singularity.” In mathematics, a singularity is a point at which a function takes an infinite value, especially in space-time when matter is extremely dense, as at the center of a black hole. No function is shown in the video that yields any value, infinite or otherwise, and the continuing drawings of stationary lines don’t “converge” anywhere.

10. “Their vectors communicate an outward divergence.” Vectors are lines that represent direction and magnitude. Vectors are lines, but not all lines, such as those shown in the video, are vectors. Furthermore, lines do not “communicate” anything, much less an outward divergence. A divergence from what?

11. “The nine reveals a linear duality.” In geometry, a duality is the interchangeability of the roles of points and planes in the theorems of projective geometry. We don’t see anything like this in the video.

12. “and the vacuum.” What vacuum? Where?

13. “Nine models ‘every’ thing and ‘no’ thing simultaneously.” What the hell is this supposed to mean???

14. “What do I mean by that?” Yes, do tell.

15. “The sum of all digits excluding nine is 36.” Uh-huh, that’s a characteristic of our base 10 number system. Refer back to 3.

16. “Paradoxically, Nine plus any digit returns the same digit.” A paradox is a statement that contradicts itself. Mathematical equations never contradict themselves. Again, refer back to 3.

17. “So nine quite literally equals all the digits (36) and nothing (0).” Nine by itself does not equal 36 or 0, nor can any number equal any quantity that has the sum, difference, product or quotient of another number. In mathematics, some quantities equal other quantities. They can never be equal in any sense other than literally.

What have I really gotten out of this? Nothing.


images50 Years Ago, Bob Dylan Electrified A Decade With One Concert

In the early 1960s, burgeoning folk music scenes were burbling up all over the country, and the Newport Folk Festival was their confluence.

By the middle of the decade, the reigning king was a young Bob Dylan, the man who gave them the now-standards “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They Are a-Changin’.” But on this day 50 years ago, Bob Dylan did the unthinkable, the unforgiveable: He plugged in an electric guitar, and he rocked hard.

The crowd was stunned. The folk faithful were betrayed by the man they considered the rightful heir to Woody Guthrie‘s throne. That’s the mythology, anyway — but without question, it proved to be a major turning point in music history.

Music historian Elijah Wald has written a new book about that performance called Dylan Goes Electric!: Newport, Seeger, Dylan, and the Night that Split the Sixties. Speaking with NPR’s Arun Rath, Wald says that if the audience had known just a little more about their hero’s listening habits as a kid in Minnesota, his transformation at Newport ’65 might not have come as such a shock. Hear the radio version at the audio link, and read more of their conversation below.

Arun Rath: Let’s talk about the young Bob Dylan, or rather the young Robert Zimmerman. What kind of music was he consuming before he turned to folk?

Elijah Wald: He was an R&B fan. People often talk about him as a rock ‘n’ roll fan, but he was much more R&B. It’s interesting: He was actually listening to a record program, his favorite program, that was beamed out of Shreveport, La., and that was specializing in things like B.B. King, Jimmy Reed, Bo DiddleyChuck Berry. He was the kind of kid who went, “Oh yeah, Elvis Presley, he’s just imitating Clyde McPhatter.” There’s actually a take of him saying that back when he was in high school. Little Richard, incidentally, was his hero. He pounded piano and shouted like Little Richard and did the falsetto whoops and all of that.

That’s one of the fascinating things in this book. I just thought the Bob Dylan thing had all kind of started with Woody Guthrie. 

Woody was a huge figure in his world, but it wasn’t so much about Woody’s songs. He liked Woody’s songs, but it was [more about] Woody’s book, Bound for Glory, and that whole idea of just the free spirit, rambling guitar player. It was the romantic attachment of that whole idea of getting out and singing the real people’s music among the real people.

You write about Bob Dylan when he arrived in New York, and the scene in Greenwich Village. It’s almost like he’s trying on different personas — like you never know which Bob Dylan might show up. 

Well, people who knew Bob Dylan back in Hibbing, Minn. say he was already trying on personas. But, you know, that’s not very unusual.

He was young!

Yeah, exactly. A guitar player and singer, 18, 19, 20 years old. It’s very typical that you’ll pick up a record and sound just like that record for two weeks, and then you’ll pick up another record and sound like that for a while.

He was coming into Greenwich Village at a moment that was very exciting. There was music all over the place; there were all these people to learn from. Everybody who knew him then, you keep hearing: “He was like a sponge.” “He was like a chameleon.” He was changing incredibly quickly.

The folk scene that you write about from back then is a lot more diverse than I realized. There are even factions, in a way.

There always was friction in the folk scene between the people who really believed that this music should be done authentically, should be done right, and people who just thought, “You know, this is fun music, let’s do it however we want. Let’s do it in ways that are fun.” There were a lot of people on the purist side who thought the pop-folkies were taking great music and turning it into tripe. And there were plenty of people on the other side who thought the purists were being, you know, a bunch of silly prigs.

There’s a point you return to in this book a number of times: that as far as Dylan’s motivation, it wasn’t like he wanted to lead the folk revolution. He didn’t want to lead a movement. 

He wasn’t a movement kind of guy. I’m not going to say that he wanted to be a pop star, but he was not a joiner. He was not good with organizations. That’s I think one of the things that was going on later in 1965: There was this feeling that it was all about, “We’re going to make a movement that’s going to change the world.” And he was all for changing the world, but he wasn’t much for movements.

Even so, he was still kind of a folk hero, and he was a smash at the Newport Folk Festival in his debut in 1962. Everything seemed to go great in 1963 as well. So what was behind the decision to front an electric band in 1965?

I mean, what happened at Newport was much more complicated than just Bob Dylan plugging in an electric guitar. I sometimes make the analogy to, if you’ve seen Marlon Brando in The Wild One, where the motorcycle gang rides into the small town — the problem isn’t that the people in the town hate motorcycles. The motorcycles are just part of what worries them about these guys who, essentially, they find threatening. The same was true for Dylan’s electric guitar at Newport. There were other people playing electric guitars at Newport. But Dylan, as you say, had been seen as a hero and more than that. He was the man who had written one of the anthems of the freedom movement, and one of the people who was holding it all together to create this new world, this new youth movement that would change the world.The fact is, Dylan was not comfortable in that role, and by 1965, that role was feeling constricting and frightening to him, the fact that people were looking to him for answers.

When he got on stage at Newport with that band, I think the way that story is often told is that there were all these traditionalist folkies, and they hated rock ‘n’ roll, and here he was playing rock ‘n’ roll and the stupid folkies were lost in the past. I’m not saying that’s completely wrong, but there’s the other side of it. It was a very tricky time: That was the weekend that Lyndon Johnson fully committed the United States to victory in Vietnam. The civil rights movement was falling apart. SNCC [The Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee] — which was the group that had brought all the kids down for Freedom Summer the previous year — now was throwing all the white members out, and the new chant was “black power.” That communal feeling of the first half of the ’60s was getting harder and harder to feel like it was all going to work and the world was going to be a better place. Dylan was someone a lot of people were looking to to hold that together — and instead, he comes out there with an electric band and doesn’t say a word to them. Dylan was always somebody who had been very cheerful, friendly, chatting with the audience — doesn’t say a word. And is playing the loudest music they’ve ever heard and screaming, “How does it feel to be on your own?” A lot of people were upset by that, and you can sort of see why.

Did Dylan go into this planning to bring in the electric band and cause a splash? When did that decision actually take place?

No — one of the things about this story is that it was completely unplanned. Dylan had come to Newport like he always did, with an acoustic guitar, planning to sing his songs and go home. But, as it turned out, the Butterfield Blues Band was there, and Al Cooper was there, and Al Cooper and Mike Bloomfield — who had just joined the Butterfield band — were the main players on “Like a Rolling Stone.” He pulled it together at the last moment. They did one rehearsal the night before. It was a complete surprise. Dylan thought of it maybe 24 hours before everyone else heard it, but it was a surprise for him, too.