This is an addendum to the “Amalgamated Waterworks” show.

It seems that Google is now disappearing the term “America’s Senior Comedian.” Google had earlier been disappearing the term “Capta Brightstick Document,” but I publicly caught them in a trap, causing them to undisappear that term within five minutes. (That constitutes one of my war stories. I’m pretty sure that I am the only American comedian to have his work disappeared by Google, which is the corporate face of the NSA, which is the civilian arm of the Pentagon.) So thanks for the street cred.

This document should be searchable by Google, especially since this blog is set to immediately inform various search engines of the creation of a new document. But if you do a Google search for the term “America’s Senior Comedian,” this document will not be returned as a hit. (Unless, of course, the NSA immediately undisappears the term within five minutes, as they did with the Capta Brightstick Document.) Nor will the term be returned as part of my two successive shows.

I have two successive shows after this one, both of which I need entered into the legal record, their having been disappeared notwithstanding: and

See, we’re all engaged in a game of touch pee pee around here. I do my shows and my audience enjoy them. But no one has ever acknowledged my existence, much less bought a ticket at any time over the past ten years. So I don’t mind abruptly changing venues. All of my one paying customers are duly apprised of my new venue.

So Google is playing a game of attempting to deny to future audience members the knowledge that the term “America’s Senior Comedian” is still searchable and leads to my other shows.

I want that to end. I want the term “America’s Senior Comedian” undisappeared.

I need the contents of those two successive shows entered into the legal record. There is important material there, including my granting of limited power of attorney for various limited purposes, to include the lodging of civil suits against United States.

Thank you, and nice try.


As I have never been a member of your society, I am uniquely positioned to comment on your race relations.

I can only draw upon my own experiences. I will tell them to you here.

I never even saw a black person until I joined the Navy in 1986. I had never known any, so I had no preconceived notions of them. I learned that they were like anyone else. The military, at least at that time, was completely colorblind. Everyone was equal. (Though I will note that one black guy in our detachment was not equal. He had the nickname of “donkey dick” for obvious reasons. He didn’t mind that hoary old trope and neither should you.)

Donkey dick was one of the senior technicians and generally was in charge of whatever project. He was also the default, informal ombudsman in charge of getting the fresh, young black technicians in line. They’d be right out of technical school, maybe a year or two out of high school, maybe still dragging along with them prejudices learned during their youth in whatever city. They often had a chip on their shoulder and were contemptuous of authority, especially if it was a white guy like me issuing the order. “Seaman Jackson. Pick up that box of bullshit and move it over there if you would be so kind.” And he’d just stand there. So Petty Officer Mitchell (the aforementioned star of the locker room) would take Mister Jackson aside and have “the talk:”

“You listen real close, stupid. These guys couldn’t give a shit less who you are or where you come from. No one cares what your life used to be like. Everyone’s got a sob story, so these guys are all full up with the bellyaching. If you want to be the nigger you’ve been your whole life, you do it on your own time. So you get your fuckin’ ass out there and do what King tells you to do. He’s got two paygrades on you. You see those stripes on his arm? That’s why he expects you to do as he says, not because he’s white and you’re black. Lose the attitude. And iron your shirt tomorrow. You’re not back on the fuckin’ block.”

I moved to Harlem in 2005. It satisfied several needs. It was a short, six-hour train ride from home, and it allowed me to ply my subversive trade in the dive bars of New York. I chose an apartment in Harlem because that’s all I could afford on my modest, cable man’s wage.

There were only a handful of white people in that neighborhood at that time. Everyone looked at me like I was a space alien. I kept to my own business and bothered no one. I went to work in the morning and came home at six o’clock.

It was my habit to walk to the corner bodega each evening for a six-pack of beer. As I walked down the sidewalk one night, a group of six black youths came up from behind and started punching me in the head for no reason. New York, being a peculiar city that denies to the average person the ability to defend himself with a firearm, left me with no other option than to run like hell the remainder of the distance to the bodega. I came out with my six-pack, eyed this band of little savages who were still waiting for me, and immediately drew a bottle from the pack by its neck, broke it on the curb, and waved this broken beer bottle at them.

Predictably enough they left, presumably in search of easier prey.

“Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do,” I thought. I had moved into the neighborhood only wanting to respectfully experience the local culture. Little did I know that I was doing just that. And on another occasion, there I was again, walking down the street, minding my own business, and some thugs drove by, slowed down to match my pace, and started shooting at me with pellet guns.

(These are completely true stories, by the way. It was a surreal experience. Never in my most deranged nightmares could I ever conceive of treating anyone the way I was treated during my blessedly short stay in Harlem. The place was a hellhole, a wasteland of nothingness, the most inhospitable, hostile, malfunctioning mess of a neighborhood, all because, apparently, I was the Man. Yup: Some dude who goes to work every day as a cable guy, bringing home a whopping forty grand a year, is “the man.”

People can say, “Well, they didn’t want you in their neighborhood. They’re opposed to gentrification.” So that’s how you respond? By beating people in the head and shooting at them with pellet guns? Why not burn a cross out in front of the apartment building?

Today, that neighborhood is now nearly completely white, gay, and Asian, as well as black professionals. In the free market that is residential housing, one population got moved out and another population got moved in. And guess which population doesn’t shit on the sidewalk?  Guess who doesn’t beat people in the head for no fuckin’ reason? And can you guess how many people shed a tear when the black people were gone? That’s right: none.

You may not like to hear it, but there are major problems in the American black “culture.” But in your defense, most of those problems are not of your making. I’ll get to that in a moment. But here’s a teaser: It involves the CIA.

I had a little go-around with the Jews in my audience several years ago after they had labored for some number of decades under the illusion that it was somehow illegal to insult or ridicule them. If you did, it was only because you just wanted to make lampshades out of them or maybe sit at a crossroad like a witch and lick them to death with your Amalekite’s tongue. I disabused them of that idiotic notion quite handily. I said, “It’s not that people hate you. It’s that no one can stand you. Two completely different things.”

So let me guess: Everyone just hates black people, right? Whites hate you, Koreans hate you, Chinese hate you, Mexicans hate you, Jews hate you? The racial animus is all completely out of your hands, right?

If you’re bellyaching about how you’re completely powerless and forever hamstrung by the attitudes of others, then there’s no better attitude to take than that it’s all out of your hands. See how easy it is? No effort required.

There were all these cool Blues clubs in Harlem. Classy places. They’d been in the same basement hole in the wall for seventy years. I’d get dressed up and walk down the street and down the steps and on into the club. And getting dressed up was a requirement if you wanted to fit in. The black patrons were all dressed to the nines. On the wall you could see old photographs from the forties and fifties, patrons of years gone by, men in their suits and fedoras and women in their feathered hats and gloves.

The members of that neighborhood once had respect for themselves and others. No more. And that is why they got moved out. The world’s a cold, hard place, baby.

The CIA had targeted the American black population for destruction back in the fifties. American, Saudi, Israeli, and Pakistani intelligence, among others, comprise a bloc of intelligence agencies all answerable to British Intelligence, which works directly for the British Crown, which is owned by the Bank of England. The City –the financial district within London– governs the so-called Western world.

The Bank of England commissioned 9-11. Bankers print money all day long. Certainly they can find some lying around with which to purchase such an operation. Why they did this, I will tell you in a moment.

(Does that sound kooky? Did you not hear that on television or in the newspaper? See, I don’t spend my time playing X-Box or watching football games. I’ve spent the last forty years of my life reading. And despite the claims of the press, I do not have a history of mental problems. What I do have, however, is a history of being a major threat to the system, what with blowing the IRS out of the water, reclaiming my right to travel, and terminating the federal jurisdiction by speaking. I would normally consider it gauche to tell you this, but if my mental competence is to be maligned both in court and in the papers, I will go ahead and set the record straight by informing you that I do now and have always had a perfectly clean bill of mental health and that I am a clinically certified genius with an IQ of 140. I’m no slouch. And when you couple that with my ability to fire my attorney and seize control of my own defense by text messaging myself during pretrial release, you might conclude that maybe I know what I’m talking about. The federal jurisdiction does not accord those distinctions to cranks.)

The trappings of the Roman Empire may have disappeared, but the empire itself did not. It moved to Britain.

The Roman Empire was adept at subjugating nations because of several techniques, one of which is to divide and conquer. The goal is to observe the target nation and identify natural political and social splits within that nation, then to exacerbate those splits, resulting in a nation at war with itself. Thus occupied with its own strife, that target nation becomes supremely easy to conquer.

The British Crown never quite got over losing the American colonies. The British didn’t go away. They tried again, with the War of 1812. The British Crown needed the economic output of the colonies to fuel that latter day Roman Empire. The British finally regained control with the Federal Reserve Act of 1913, that instrument that delivered the money-creation powers rightfully belonging to the Congress right into the hands of foreign bankers, most notably the Bank of England. And once you control the issuance and, hence, the value, of a currency, you control the nation that uses that currency as a medium of exchange. You then possess the power to blackmail the national government to do as you say, under threat of imploding the economy by withdrawing currency from circulation by raising interest rates. That principle is an axiom of economics. It’s how bankers gain control of a nation’s government. Every last war undertaken, every last piece of legislation written, every last thought you got into your head since 1913 was commissioned by the Bank of England. The British Crown governs the United States of America, and it does so via the Federal Reserve Act of 1913. Watch “America, Freedom to Fascism,” a professionally made documentary, available in its entirety on YouTube, for a riveting telling of this criminal conspiracy to steal your nation’s sovereignty.

Your nation was divided by British Intelligence, acting through their tributary intelligence service, the Central Intelligence Agency. The CIA has never been up to any good.

The CIA identified a political and social split between the white and black populations in America. It then set about exacerbating that split by, among other methods, morally destroying the black community. The CIA achieved this chiefly by the importation into the black community of a steady supply of crack cocaine in the eighties. This is an easily verifiable fact. For more, read Gary Webb’s work.

The CIA is dividing your nation on behalf of its parent, British Intelligence. A nation divided cannot stand.

The American black community was completely destroyed by the CIA. It was destroyed with drugs, with out-of-wedlock births, and by thug culture, all of which were promoted by the CIA and their political partners in the entertainment media. There is nothing so diametrically opposed to the respectable men and women in those photographs from the forties than the hooting and hollering, bitch-slapping, makin’-it-nasty, thug, human waste that you see on MTV.

So to a very slight degree, I’ll give a pass to the black community for the completely anti-social behavior of a significant segment of their community, a segment that gives all black people a bad name.

And incidentally, who would have made a fine role model for black youth and, indeed, was attempting to do so? Oh that would be Bill Cosby. The bankers who govern your nation needed him gone like yesterday. Who knows if the allegations were true; the point is that they were all of a sudden big news. This told me that someone found immense value in the allegations, any concern for the alleged victims running a distant second. The veracity of the allegations was quite immaterial to those who instructed the Washington Post and NBC to run with the story like it was the scoop of the century.

There is an adjunct to this discussion, which is that the CIA have instructed Barack Obama to exacerbate the racial divisions in this country, most notably in Ferguson, all with an eye toward rolling out DHS during a declaration of martial law, which is the end goal of the British Crown. Lets ’em keep a tight control over the colonies, you know. Ain’t nothin’ better for that than a unitary executive with the place under martial law.

The British Crown need a race war in this country. Because they need martial law. So don’t take the bait. And wear a nice hat, don’t beat people on the fuckin’ head, and carry yourselves like you deserve the respect that ought to be yours.

And then all the chinks and the kikes and the fags and the raunchy ricans and the noodle eaters along the Ho Chi Minh Trail downtown and the dot heads and the ragheads and all you niggers can take a breather and realize that everyone’s being played.

…by the Tavistock Institute.

Judge, I have to apologize for picking on you.

Stand-up comedians –unlike practitioners of the other forms, such as sketch comedians– interact directly with the audience. The stand-up comedian “breaks the fourth wall,” in theater parlance.

And since no one has ever acknowledged my existence over the past ten years except perhaps to arrest me or to threaten to indict me for quoting myself, I have precious few known audience members with whom I may interact.

Stand-up comedy does not take place without an audience. The form is a collaborative process.

So I apologize profusely for holding you up again and again for ridicule. If for no other reason, then, you might plead with your idiot organization to power down my Kook Law Containment Field. It’ll take the heat off you and thereby deliver to me an expanded supply of whipping boys. Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself.

Say, why do your guild wear robes? As your preferred uniform of the day, they’re kind of silly looking. So there must be a compelling reason for it. Is it so that everyone knows who the judge is? Would people otherwise mistakenly address the bailiff or maybe that woman who types on her computer all the time? How do you know she’s not doing Facebook?

So your robe is like a visual cue, then? Kind of like a snap of the fingers or a whistling? “Hey. Over here. I’m the judge. In case my words make no sense whatsoever –what with slumming it by working for this idiot organization– you’ll know who the senior law talker here is.”

Ah: I just figured out why Roberts stitched those fancy stripes on his robe when he won the lottery and became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court: It was to let everyone know who the expert was in case you couldn’t tell by listening to him talk. The stripes are a visual cue that he knows what he’s talking about in case one might think otherwise by listening to him claim that the individual mandate is legal because it’s an indirect tax, which it could not even theoretically be, considering that indirect taxes all quite definitionally and necessarily contain avenues of avoidance, avenues of avoidance successfully argued against by Obama Administration law talkers who managed to claim with a straight face that dead people should be fined for non-participation in the insurance market because their discontinued participation in the insurance market (like their discontinued participation in so many other human activities, like, say, breathing) secretly constitutes a continued participation in the insurance market. Silly me. Now I see the logic that would normally cause a sanity checker not only to issue a reset command but also to issue the auto-destruct sequence, causing the entire electronic device to catch fire and reduce itself to a pile of harmless ash.

So it seems I’ve answered my own question. And that is why Roberts wears those idiotic stripes. And that, by extension, is why your guild wear robes: It’s so that people will know who to talk to in court in the absence of any other cue.

Say, do you have any tax evasion cases on the docket? I bet you do. You remember that field of inquiry, don’t you? Yes, it might be studiously ignored in law talker school that the Sixteenth Amendment conferred no new taxing authority, making completely fraudulent the IRS’s claim of deriving from that same Sixteenth Amendment their taxing authority for the personal income tax. And it may be true that the Justice Department whistle past the graveyard every time they knowingly and disingenuously bring tax evasion cases and Willful Failure to File cases against those they know full well could not even theoretically be guilty of the charge.

Your organization is just a wonderland of fraud, isn’t it?

See, one of the advantages to being America’s Senior Comedian –along with other professional distinctions conferred upon me by that genius jurisdiction, such as being the first professional comedian in American history to be declared a terrorist; being able to perform for my esteemed audience in my living room with my feet up on the desk while eating pistachio nuts; arguing my own case in court by text messaging myself; and enjoying the hands-off legal protective custody of the Secret Service, among perhaps other professional distinctions I may have overlooked; that and fifty cents will get you a cup of coffee– is that my material becomes another one for the history books. That means that my rollicking, free-wheeling performance over the past decade has come to the notice of the Future People.

I will tell you that the Future People are very confused about why the Justice Department continue to knowingly bring fraudulent tax evasion cases now that everyone knows that one of your own guild clearly and unambiguously stated that the Sixteenth Amendment never conferred the new taxing authority that the IRS and the Justice Department disingenuously claim that it did.

Do you permit Justice Department attorneys to wipe boogers on your desk, too? Just fish out a big ol’ juicy booger and smear it on whatever convenient surface in your courtroom? I am perplexed by your self-defeating behavior.

And why the complaint? You’re apparently quite content to permit vandals to fob off whatever fraud as long as you think no one will notice. Well, I’ve noticed. And my audience, which includes the most powerful people in Washington as well as your peers and the Future People, have noticed too.

So could you argue, then, that anyone so inconvenienced as to be called before you should not conduct themselves in your courtroom according to the prevailing style? Wipe a booger under the defense desk? Or pass gas? And then the defense counsel can just speak out of turn: “Your Honor, someone cut the cheese! Odor in the court! And I don’t want to hear from the prosecution anything about that manifestly disproven old theory that he who smelt it dealt it. …What is it with this place? It smells like a barnyard! Wow! It’s like a frat house with all the beer farts up in here!”

So is that why your guild wear robes? To give a cue where none other exists? Playing dress-up? “This is what I would look like if I were a judge presiding over a legal proceeding in a court”?

Proc UnitedStates

Start Proc Listen;
On Condition(“Nettlesome annoyance”)
      Echo “Come to Papa!”;
      Call UnitedStatesVocalization(terminate, “Capta Brightstick Document”);
      Ridicule(“Teeny peen”, “Rubbery fumblings”);
      Kill -33065, -852;
      Echo “Nice jurisdiction you got there.”;
      Spawn 7220;
      Gosub AcceptHumanitarianAward;
      Gosub HaveCareerAtLongLast;
      Gosub PermitGroupiesToBuyDrinks;

Judge, I’ve decided that your guild might benefit from some computer training.

At one of the fifteen-odd colleges at which I have been a student, I studied the discipline known as Digital Design. Digital Design is the field of study of designing computers and other digital devices like, say, CD players and digital cameras. Every last digital appliance you ever purchased was engineered by someone with training in digital design.

When instructing students in some practical undertaking like Digital Design, the professor will generally select a simple task toward which all studies contribute. He will task his class to construct some simple device whose design employs all the principles covered in the curriculum. One such simple device might be the common, hand-held digital voice recorder. That device employs audio circuits, memory circuits, analog-to-digital circuits, and digital-to analog circuits.

But there is one, often overlooked circuit: the sanity checker.

You know how your smartphone sometimes acts stupid? Or your computer locks up? Those conditions can occur not necessarily because of a hardware fault, but because of logic violations. Those logic violations can result from poor programming practices or even from cosmic rays. Sometimes satellites need to be put into a safe mode when there’s a solar storm or whatever. The point is, digital devices sometimes go insane. That’s an actual word of art within the digital design field.

A sanity checker, then, is a circuit which is included in the design of the device that periodically checks that the other circuits are sane. When circuits go insane, their outputs make no sense. By methods with which I will not now bore you by describing, that sanity checker detects this nonsensical output and it applies a signal to all circuits, resetting them to a known state. It’s essentially a reboot. That is why your smartphone sometimes reboots itself. Its internal sanity checker worked flawlessly by detecting various logic violations and it then issued a reset command.

Your jurisdiction is totally insane, just so you know. Can you guess what my role here is?

(Incidentally, it’s a bit rich, don’t you think, that the Justice Department reached into their grab bag of allegations and questioned my sanity? My non-existent history of mental problems and my perseveration and my non-bizarre delusions? And let’s not forget my own attorney’s contribution to the prosecution’s case: “Don’t forget ‘stupid,’ ‘lazy,’ and ‘disrespectful.’ ” That psych ward occupant you call a jurisdiction could not even theoretically appraise anyone else’s sanity.)

A legal system is precisely like a computer. By the emergency installation of Not gates strategically placed throughout the United States legal system, I have taken the liberty of modifying your legal system to better suit my needs. I hope you don’t mind. Should United States, in its total insanity, ever attempt to assert jurisdiction over me or any other member of the legal construct known as United Sovereigns of America, I will issue a reset command. Those who benefit from the insanity of that jurisdiction do not want that reset to occur, and that is why United States will never attempt to assert jurisdiction over me.

Now. In what precise manner has the United States legal system gone insane? Its outputs do not correlate to its inputs. If the United States legal system were a simple addition circuit, where one and one are its inputs and two should be its output, the United States legal system takes one plus one and comes up with negative five thousand.

One of its inputs is faulty. It’s seeing something on one of its inputs that isn’t there, so the circuit yields the wrong answer.

The United States legal system is seeing something that isn’t there. It sees terrorists where none exist. That logic violation was deliberately introduced into the system by two groups of the unsavory: intelligence agents and lawyers. The first group ran a drill on 9-11, thereby spoofing air traffic control computers with erroneous data such that non-existent aircraft flooded their screens; these corrupt intelligence agents also engaged in a criminal conspiracy with compartmentalized elements of the Pentagon to stand down NORAD for the first time in history; and these elements remotely piloted drones into the Twin Towers, drones inconveniently and embarrassingly enough outfitted with engines not compatible with either Flight 11 or Flight 175. The best laid plans of mice and men. Whoopsie Daisy. Maybe they’ll use the right engines next time. That usually helps.

The other fraternity of the unsavory, the enablers of all deceit in this world, were lawyers. They had been commissioned years before to write the collection of garbage known as the USA PATRIOT Act, that most un-American piece of legislation ever, all ready for rolling out at the appropriate time.

That legislation, along with all post-9/11 national security-related legislation, is null and void because of fraudulent representations made at the time of the deliberations of the legislation, deliberations which did not even constitute deliberations owing to the fact that no one could even read the text of the bill except perhaps certain committee members, and because of death threats delivered in the form of anthrax ultimately traced back to Fort Detrick, a finely milled and electrostatically charged, weaponized anthrax unavailable to all but the United States military.

During the deliberations of the Act, I’m guessing that it was left out that Osama bin Laden could not have even theoretically participated in the event. Unless I’m underestimating his capabilities, the man lacked the means of outfitting Flight 175 with the wrong engines.

The United States legal system is insane because it insists on regarding as a valid input a value that was forged. There is no such thing as a terrorist. No need to have a special word of art. The existing police powers are perfectly adequate for catching people who blow things up and shoot people.

In theory, it should be a simple matter of nullifying within the courts the legislation in question. Why that has not yet occurred, I can only speculate. Maybe the NSA is blackmailing corrupt judges. Maybe Justice Department lawyers have argued against the introduction of what they represent to be classified information into the proceedings. There are any number of ways for lawyers to use tortured language and a lack of transparency or else the bill dies. You know how lawyers are.

There are six entities possessing the ability to issue a reset command: me; the national legislature; the national judiciary; that junior partner, the executive; the several states; and the citizenry.

I have zero expectation that the Congress will repeal all post 9-11 legislation enacted predicated upon what amounts to false testimony. They can’t even rein in a president who’s trying his hand at writing laws now.

I have zero expectation that the reset command will be issued by the executive, which is the muscular, unitary executive long sought by the foreign bankers who commissioned 9-11 in the first place as a means of converting that constitutional republic into their private command jurisdiction.

So the matter of nullifying that legislation falls to one or more of three groups: the federal judiciary, the several states, or the people.

The several states are unlikely to issue that reset command because they like their highway funds too much. Charged with defending the natural rights of their citizens, they will nonetheless gladly consent to any number of violations of those citizens’ rights if it means cash flow. Let’s not kid each other.

(I do not recommend constitutional conventions when the system has worked so well for so long with the exception of one decade of pure kookery. Let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water. It is too easy for monied interests to hijack that process and create a government whose every action redounds solely to their benefit. I instead recommend a reset switch, the pushing of which by the number of states necessary for the adoption of a constitutional amendment terminates the federal jurisdiction for one microsecond and then immediately powers it back up intact, minus all post-9-11 national security-related legislation, and minus all executive orders, and minus the National Security Act, and minus the Federal Reserve Act of 1913, which delivered into private hands the money-creation powers rightfully belonging to the United States Government, the transfer of which powers is the source of every last of this nation’s problems. That is my recommendation.)

If none of the other entities act to reset that jurisdiction to its pre-9/11 condition, the citizenry who comprise this nation’s fundamental constabulary will terminate the federal jurisdiction with hyperviolence. No one representing himself to be a United States officer or employee will remain alive. That’s what happens in violent revolutions. And as Kennedy said, “The government that makes peaceful revolution impossible makes violent revolution inevitable.”

No decent nation permits the kind of insanity routinely displayed by that federal jurisdiction: “I’m catching the terriss, yeah yeah yeah, let me suck the shit out of your asshole, let me finger-fuck your pretty daughter’s tight pussy, let me beat my meat in the bushes as I watch you fuck your wife. And when I’m done, stick your head in this bag so I can ship you off to a torture chamber so that I can satisfy my one remaining claim to moral authority, which is that I need to do what’s in the budget so that I can make my mortgage payment this month.”

Not a single person in my audience would argue against a jurisdictional reset. You’d have to be a total pig to countenance that jurisdiction’s behavior.

So your task, Judge, is to take what you have learned here and figure out the means by which your sullied guild will undo what it did. Because if your guild fail to nullify that legislation, the people will do it for you. Your guild will not like that.

And this is still show business, so I fully expect you to buy your ticket. What you are reading is the intellectual property of a professional comedian and you will compensate me according to the pricing schedule posted at the box office. I don’t care who you are or what you think you’re investigating. You are attending the show of the century. If my work here isn’t worth a hundred bucks, I don’t know what is.

And it matters nothing to me that your ding-a-ling jurisdiction regards buying a ticket to my show as lending material support to a terriss. It’s the town nutjob. Ignore it. I do.


[Strictly speaking, I don’t possess a RESET command. I possess a KILL command. It’s the nuclear option. It terminates the entity by a jurisdictional challenge in court. If a KILL command is issued prior to resetting by any of the above mentioned entities in possession of that RESET command, the jurisdiction is publicly destroyed and can never again possess jurisdiction over USov or any other person. So get crackin’.]