The Fine Print: Online Standoff to Save Meyers Farm

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Online Standoff to Save Meyers Farm

By : Dennis Stein

42,000 people is a lot of support for any cause. When you consider that these people are not just Canadian, but hail from every corner of the globe, it shows just how far people will go to show their support for something that they know is right...

The fact that Frank Meyers and his family have garnered this level of support in just a week or so is amazing enough. As he sits in his John Deere tractor or his pickup truck each day, greeting the people who have journeyed to his family farm in the interest of helping him save his land from expropriation by the government, Frank is blind to the commotion going on online. There is a mounting virtual army of people from all walks of life, generating a daily barrage of comments, and posts in support of his cause. Media from all major news outlets have covered the story going on right now in Trenton, Ontario, broadcasting the events unfolding on a nightly basis for almost a week now.

Meanwhile, a growing group of determined supporters huddle around a fire barrel, defending against heavy equipment which is poised at the back of the property, ready to demolish the barns and buildings on the land that the Department of National Defense has expropriated from the Meyers family. They remain all night and all day, so that Frank and his wife may get their rest, comfortable that someone is keeping vigil. All manner of food and donations to the supporters cause are flowing in, including the products from big name restaurants like McDonald's and Tim Horton's.

Add to that the fact that this group, headed by a woman named Lisa Gibson, who began a Facebook page back in October of 2013 after learning about the Meyer's plight has stopped the planned demolition of the barns, and forced the powers that be to rethink their entire plan, and you can see a major message being sent to the government. The land in question has been in this family since the settlement of Upper Canada, and although Frank signed off on the expropriation deal under duress, he has yet to receive any payment for the land in question...

People are posting to the Facebook page Save Frank and Marjorie Meyers Farm at an amazing rate, offering their help in whatever way they can, sharing information, and contacting their local government representatives looking for answers. It is unclear how this standoff will end, but for now the group, who have dubbed themselves 'Frank's Army', show no signs of leaving their vigilance, either online, or at the farm...

No comments:

New Stuff!

Space Mail

The main console came to life, and LEDs began to light up everywhere in the darkened cockpit. It had been three months in cruise mode, and an audible beeping woke her from cryogenic sleep. Kara was drowsy, not with it yet. The computers came back online slowly, and the bay where she slept lit with a faint light. She was cold. Yawning and rubbing at her eyes, she sat up, sweeping blonde hair out of her face. The console was flashing with an indicator for a message waiting. Can’t even wait for me to be conscious, she thought sarcastically. There were several hours to spare before there was any need to make corrective maneuvers in her ship’s course in order to dock with the atoll, so she reached for her housecoat and told the galley computer she wanted her tea. It was ready in an instant, and she held the acrylic mug in both hands, feeling the warmth promised by her favorite morning drink. Was it morning? she mused briefly. It certainly didn’t feel like it. Reading the incoming messages, Kara shook her head. They knew she was the only one inbound to them, knew that she had their precious spares aboard. Still, the bullshit. She tapped out a quick reply, and headed to get dressed, the shower on board being little more than a tight closet. Kara spent a lot of time to make sure she was as well groomed as possible, an ingrained idea that she followed on a daily basis. It was better than nothing, and she always arrived smelling much better than her male counterparts. ‘Mailers’ were a group that were different than most others. Tough. Able to weather any storm. She hadn’t even glanced out at the stars today, she suddenly thought. Something she normally loved about these long runs between humanity when Kara first took this job. As the shower door closed and sealed, the small ship sped forward, having dropped from lightspeed, gliding effortlessly through the vacuum of space…

The atoll ‘Constellation’ was a massive vessel, well over two miles in length at this point in time, and carrying almost three thousand people. Massive solar sails stood erect off the cruiser’s surface, feeding power to all of it’s internal needs. The atoll was one of several, spread throughout the galaxy, and it’s interior had become home to humankind. The hum of the ion drives could be felt even out in the coldness of space. Pinpricks of light pierced the hull, windows out on the only solace that humans had now. The bridge of the ship stood up on a spire above the main body of the hull, like an eye on it’s surroundings. The commander sat here. It had been a long day for everyone, and he sat in the command chair, reviewing the day’s logs. Food shortage. Problems with waste disposal. Electrical relays that had begun to fail. He needed those replacements, or it would soon be a dark atoll, regardless of the output of the sails. Danek put his face in his hands, tossing the tablet aside. Too much today… All of the critical systems strung together throughout the ship were showing their age, and he wondered if it wasn’t simply the sheer size of the vessel that still made it habitable at times. Today alone the power had failed on part of the concourse level, the atmosphere generators dropped their output levels, and the waste recycler had stopped for several hours. If one of the main ion drives suffered a failure, the atoll would be adrift, helplessly tumbling through space. He stood up from the command chair, walking forward to check on the sensor banks, flat screens laid out on a desk-like console. Nothing but the service drones, flying around the hull to perform inspections. He needed those spare parts. The other atolls were just as desperate, their mining and manufacturing just as taxed as the constellation. He looked up briefly, everyone was at their post. The dozen or so people still on the bridge looked at their panels, working diligently.

New Stuff!

The White Room

He had not slept again. Days and nights were the same here, after all. No changes in the amount of light, and everything was devoid of colour. For his own safety, and that of others. His room was very carefully designed, round with no edges, even the locked doorway was seamless, the lighting a harsh bright white glowing from behind translucent panels in the ceiling. Color was not a good thing for him. The table he sat at was of course entirely white. The same for his chair. A bed at the other side of the room was little more than a futon, but again, white. No color anywhere. His hair had been shaved, a precaution against him pulling any of it out and seeing it's brown strands, and he was clothed in white, a simple t-shirt and pajama pants, white pull-on sneakers and gloves. Without any mirror in this cell, he could not even look upon the color of his own eyes. He sat at the table quietly, waiting. A voice over some hidden loudspeaker had told him to do so a short while before.