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'Superhero'; takes on clampers

Angle-grinder Man – a self-proclaimed superhero – patrols by night looking for unhappy drivers who have been clamped and then sets their cars free.

He promises to take on clamping firms, speed cameras and the congestion charge on behalf of drivers.
An odd-job man by day, he claims to operate in Kent during the week and in London at weekends.
A hotline number on his website offers a free wheel clamp removal service.

I for one am prepared to fight for what is fair and am making myself available to the public
Angle-grinder Man

On calling, an answer phone message invites callers to “leave a message after the grinding sound”.
The unnamed man, who wears a costume of gold boots and crotch-hugging pants over a blue leotard, said he was happy to take the risk.
“It’s a public service,” he says on his website.
“I for one am prepared to fight for what is fair and am making myself available to the public.
‘Deeper malaise’
“I may not be able to single-handedly and totally cast off the repressive shackles of a corrupt government – but I can cut off your wheel-clamps for you.”
He says he decided to go “full-time vigilante” in May this year.
“My obsession with wheel-clamping is actually a rebellion against a much deeper malaise,” he said.
“Namely, the arrogant contempt that politicians hold for the people who put them into power, and whom they claim to represent.”
A Kent Police spokeswoman said no complaint about wheel clamps being cut off had been made by either a clamping firm or a member of the public.
A spokeswoman for the Metropolitan Police said they could not investigate unless a crime was reported.
Story from BBC NEWS:
Published: 2003/09/16 10:42:37 GMT

Meet the Anti-Sex in the City Superhero

NEW YORK, Nov. 5, 2002 —
New York’s comic book alter-ego Gotham has its Dark Knight in Batman, but it turns out the real city has its own caped crusader. Lotharios everywhere, beware, because Terrifica, scarlet-costumed avenger and protector of women, is on the prowl on the city’s party scene.
All was calm on a brisk 40-degree Saturday evening around Bar 4 in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn. The only things stirring were the breeze-driven mocha-colored leaves skipping and scratching across the concrete and the light traffic along Seventh Avenue.
But skidding leaves soon gave way to the deliberate clacking of red heels. It was a little early for Terrifica to start patrolling; it was only 8:30, and the social scene was hours away from awakening. However, with her red cape, matching leotard and skirt with red boots, she managed to open the eyes of a few onlookers and elicit a whisper or two as she strode into Bar 4.
For the past seven years Terrifica has been patrolling New York’s party and bar scene, looking out for women who have had a little too much to drink and are in danger of being taken advantage of by men. She says she has saved several women from both themselves and predators who would prey upon their weaknesses  both from alcohol and a misguided notion that they have to go out drinking to find a companion.
“I protect the single girl living in the big city,” says Terrifica, sporting blond Brunhild wig with a golden mask and a matching Valkyrie bra. “I do this because women are weak. They are easily manipulated, and they need to be protected from themselves and most certainly from men and their ill intentions toward them.”
Terrifica does not claim to have superhuman powers or to be from a planet like Krypton. By day, she is Sarah, a 30-year-old single woman who works for a computer consulting company. (Sarah prefers not to reveal her last name so that she can protect her anonymity and still lead some degree of a normal life.)
To some, Terrifica may not seem all that imposing  she does not have the bulging muscles of your typical superhero. But she has a superhuman sense of purpose and belief in herself. Terrifica unfailingly refers to her non-costumed alter-ego, Sarah, as if she were another person. The heroine refuses to answer any questions about Sarah while she is working as Terrifica, saying “You are talking to Terrifica, not Sarah.”
Sipping a Shirley Temple, Terrifica’s voice is strong and forceful. Her brown eyes pierce through Bar 4’s red lights as she talks about her mission.
“My inspiration is the need people have in the city to be protected from themselves. That is my inspiration,” the heroine says. “I have to act in the most extreme situations. I’m on the front lines, in the danger zone, in the wee hours of the night. There’s nothing happening here right now; it’s way early. But if I come back here at 2:30, 3 o’clock in the morning, there are people drunk, making out with other people, going home with other people. They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re drunk.
“To feel like you have to go to a bar, to put yourself out there, feeling like you have worth only when you’re married, engaged, or have a boyfriend, that’s weakness,” Terrifica says. “People are happiest when they’re alone and living their solitary lives.”
To Serve and Protect the Single Girl Living in the City
However, Terrifica’s mission is really twofold: she seems driven by both a need to protect all women and her alter-ego, a single girl living in the city. According to Sarah, Terrifica was spawned by a combination of heartbreak and her need deal with her own feelings of vulnerability.
Before moving to New York from Pittsburgh seven years ago, Sarah was heartbroken when she and her boyfriend broke up. Terrifica, Sarah says, was created out of her need to deal with her own anxiety of being a single woman suddenly living in a new city.
“I was living in New York, 23, feeling sort of vulnerable. I created Terrifica I guess to deal with my feelings of vulnerability being young and single in New York City,” Sarah says. “I had a couple of run-ins with men that really shocked me, left me feeling confused and really hurt. & To come from a small city where I knew everyone to a bigger city where I did not was quite overwhelming and scary.”
However, at some point, Terrifica became more than Sarah’s personal therapeutic tool. Her purpose grew to include the protection of all women from the men who would manipulate them  emotionally and sexually.
“The reason why Batman was dark was because he kept seeing his demon [the murder of his parents and his need to avenge them] every time he did what he did,” Sarah says. “I guess that is essentially the same thing with me. I experience the same hurt and pain over and over again [as Terrifica].”
Patrolling a Potentially Dangerous World With No Superpowers
Terrifica did not want to reveal how often she patrols or how she decides where she is going to go out on duty. However, different nights have different party scenes.
“Thursday nights are good nights for college students,” she says. “Thursdays and Friday night are good nights for the after-work crowd down in Wall Street. Saturdays are good nights for the East-West Village where you have people coming in from the other boroughs.”
Despite her persistence and dedication, a costume can be a hindrance to a passionate crime fighter like Terrifica. After all, how many real-life Batmen and Spider-Men does the average person encounter every day? Terrifica’s costume could attract gawkers, a degree of ridicule and distract from the seriousness of her task, but she says that’s a tactical choice.
“I have undercover clothes that I wear so that I can blend in,” says Terrifica. “I wear this costume to bring attention to myself. Imagine yourself the perpetrator, one of the evil men in the world, and then you see a woman in a leotard and she’s beautiful. You’re going to stop focusing attention on the woman you’re trying to seduce and going to try to get Terrifica to pay attention to you. So, it’s a diversion tactic.”
Still, Terrifica acknowledges that her vigilantism puts herself at risk. She admits that she has found herself in situations that involved physical run-ins with people who did not appreciate her interference. Her sobriety and wits have remained her greatest assets in those situations.
“I really only have my utility belt. I’m not superstrong. I’m from this Earth,” she says. “I know I have to be very cautious. But the difference is I’m sober. And drunk people who are hostile are still drunk people. I have a degree of control, and my mission and purpose can usually get me out of dangerous situations.”
However, Terrifica does carry pepper spray in her utility belt, which also includes a cell phone, lipstick, a camera to take pictures of alleged male predators, a logging book, Terrifica fortune cards and  last but not least  Smarties candies.
Why Smarties?
“They taste good,” Terrifica says. “I need energy. What I do is very difficult. I need to stay awake long hours, driving around. Sugar helps.”
Struggling to Get a Message Across
For the most part, Terrifica says, the women she has saved have appreciated her help. But she hopes to never save the same woman twice.
“That would just be sad,” she says. “I get to know some of the women I save and talk to them. & It would just be sad if I would run into some of them again. There is a message I’m trying to get across where I would hope to never need to see them again.”
Not everyone is a fan of hers. Some bartenders may hate her heroics, she says, because she potentially drives away their business. However, she conceded that she has some power over bartenders.
“Bartenders tend to be men, and they tend to be attracted to me,” she says. “Most men are. That’s part of my power.”
A Fantastic Nemesis
Terrifica has also become somewhat of a nemesis to one alleged Casanova in particular: A man who likes to dress in velvet and prefers to be called “Fantastico.” He says that over the years, Terrifica has thwarted his attempts on numerous occasions to get to know women a little better.
“Well, I guess I first met her about seven years ago … most recently last week in Carroll Gardens [Brooklyn],” Fantastico says. “I was with this woman and she was very lonely, seemed very desperate for attention. We were having a very lovely time, sharing a drink and suddenly I turn around see her [Terrifica] in this ridiculous red cape. She practically drags the woman away.”
Fantastico, who says he does not have a day job, says he likes to indulge in the finer, pleasurable things in life and that he likes to bring out the pleasure in people. He is convinced that Terrifica is a miserable, lonely woman who does not want anyone else to be happy.
“She seems to have an obsession with me,” Fantastico says. “She seems to have it in for men. I’m convinced she is loveless and would love to have the rest of the city as loveless and miserable as she is.”
Fantastico says that Terrifica has never really addressed him directly during their encounters. She has only lectured the alleged would-be female victims about being manipulated and taken advantage of.
“She’s just been very cold, very distant,” Fantastico says. “But I’m sure if she did address me  her being a pretty attractive woman in her leotard  if she did hear me out, maybe she would change her attitude.”
But while Terrifica has never addressed Fantastico directly, her alter-ego Sarah has. Sarah says she was seduced by Fantastico years ago.
However, Fantastico does not even remember Sarah and has no idea that she is Terrifica. He does remember Terrifica, though.
“While I don’t know a Sarah, I do know Terrifica. She does exist, and we have crossed paths from time to time,” he says.
“What? You mean he doesn’t remember me?” Sarah asks, stunned. “You see, that’s why Terrifica exists, that’s why she’s needed.”
Fantastico insisted Terrifica has only been an occasional annoyance to him and that he doesn’t lose any sleep at night knowing she’s out there. “Trust me,” he says. “I have no problem doing what I do.”
A Heroines Advice for Self-Protection
Terrifica knows she can’t be everywhere. She prefers to work alone but would not mind if other people donned a costume to help protect others. However, she does have advice to help women help themselves.
“The most important thing is that you do not need another person to give you love,” Terrifica says. “And you should not feel that someone who promises love actually loves you, ever. People throw around the term ‘love’ to manipulate, to get sexual satisfaction. And you should only exist to satisfy yourself, not sexually but holistically. Do not be meek enough to believe the myths society has imposed on us to basically control you.
“And don’t get drunk in bars.”
Terrifica says she ultimately would like to be able to set up a hotline to help women when they feel like they need advice. It would enable her to more easily spread her message of self-protection and empowerment.
She would also like to have someday have the equivalent of Batman’s bat signal. Perhaps, it could be called the “Terrific signal.”
“It is my dream to have a ‘T’ signal going up to the clouds so that I know when I would be needed,” Terrifica says.
The End of the Road for Terrifica?
Terrifica says she will continue carrying on her mission as long as there are still women getting drunk in bars, going home with men they barely know and feeling badly in the morning, wondering whether the men will ever call.
However, there are signs that Sarah is wearying of donning the red leotard.
“I’m sure Terrifica would tell you that she is always successful,” she says. “But that is not always the case. Dressing in a red leotard, hanging out at bars drinking Shirley Temples is not exciting. It can get pretty dull. & There are nights when not much happens.
“I would love to be able to be at the point psychologically where I don’t feel like I have to dress like a superhero to feel safe and empowered in New York City,” Sarah says. “It’s hard to say under what circumstances [I would stop] with my not looking so hot in a leotard anymore. I had set [age] 30 as the magic number and I’m still doing it. And I’ll be 31 soon.”
Well, at least one person believes Terrifica/Sarah still looks good in a leotard. As Terrifica left Bar 4, a little girl in a knit white cap and matching jacket saw the heroine and immediately stopped, looked up and smiled.
“You look pretty,” the child said with a toothy grin.
“Thank you,” said Terrifica, as she allowed herself to smile. “Be safe now.”
Terrifica’s smile soon faded away as her thoughts turned to the night ahead. “I have to go home now & to my headquarters & to prepare. I have to make some calls and find out where some of the party scenes are tonight.”
And with that, Terrifica turned away, red cape lazily flowing behind her. No one else on Seventh Avenue stopped to stare at her.
Copyright © 2009 ABC News Internet Ventures

Farewell to The Fox

Originally posted:
by David Weissman
He was a teacher and friend, environmental crusader and outlaw. He dared to expose polluters when no one else would. He was Robin Hood, Zorro and Batman all rolled into one. And even though Jim Phillips died last fall at age 70, the legend he created as “The Fox” lives on.
Jim Phillips grew up on Chicago’s West Side, but it was summers spent at his grandfather’s farm in the Fox River Valley that shaped his views on the environment. He found peace in nature and embraced the clarity and solitude of the outdoors. When he turned 10, Phillips moved to the family farm for good.
He pursued science in school and earned a biology degree from Northern Illinois University. For the next 10 years he taught environmental science at middle schools in Oak Lawn and Hillside. It was there the young science teacher got called out by one of his students.
“Mr. Jim, you say that you don’t try to cause air pollution, but you drive your truck to work every day,” the student challenged. “What are you going to do about it?”
With no public transportation available, Phillips was forced to drive. So he did the next best thing: he invited students to paint their complaints on his truck. By day’s end, students had transformed the truck into a rolling billboard: GM — CLEAN UP YOUR ACT!
In the spring of 1969 Phillips plugged a sewer drain that flowed into the Fox River from the Armour-Dial soap plant in nearby Montgomery. The company unplugged the drain, but he filled it again. Two months passed. Phillips returned to check on the river, and there, in a scene like the birth of a comic book hero, had an epiphany:
“Before me lay a mini-disaster,” Phillips wrote in his autobiography, Raising Kane: The Fox Chronicles. “Bank-to-bank soap curds filled the water from the dam back to the sewer. Looking into the pool, my heart sank.
“Floating upside down, with their orange legs relaxed in death, was the mallard hen and all of her baby ducks. The shock of seeing such carnage gave way to sorrow and then rage. Wading into the glop, I saw one tiny duckling’s foot feebly kick. Scooping it up and stripping soap waste off its partly fuzzy body, I tried to open its little beak and blow breath into its lungs. The little body went limp in my hand as the final spark of life flickered out. Everything got blurry as tears of sorrow and anger rolled down my cheeks.”
In the years that followed, Phillips would harness his anger into a new brand of environmental activism — one that applied psychological pressure to achieve results. His methods were smarter than vandalism. Instead he poked fun at polluters, exposed them to the public in ways that confused, embarrassed and, ultimately, shamed them into changing their practices.
At an aluminum foundry in Aurora, he plugged the company’s septic tank, capped smokestacks and left a dead skunk at the front door. When that didn’t work, he paid a visit to the company’s corporate headquarters in Gary, Indiana.
“I have a gift for your president from the animals and people of the Fox River Valley,” Phillips said. He then dumped five gallons of sewage from the company’s own Aurora plant onto the corporate hallway.
That got the ear of Chicago Daily News columnist Mike Royko, who used his column to champion the Fox’s cause.
“The Fox learned about the power of the media early on,” said Brock. “By getting publicity for his actions, the Fox spread the word far and wide.”
By day, he talked with reporters — incognito, from behind a bush.
The Fox’s popularity soared. He held a mock funeral for the Fox River. One article became two, then three, then four. He was featured in the pages of Time, Newsweek and Life magazines, and a television special, “Profit the Earth” — all anonymously. He spoke via telephone to the U.S. secretary of state’s Committee on Human Environment, a group preparing for the United Nations Conference on the Human Environment.
In time, The Fox became revered and feared, a modern-day Robin Hood who befuddled his enemies and befriended all others. His trademark signature, a small fox drawn as the “o” in Fox, accompanied his notes and signs. Bumper stickers that read, “Go Fox — Stop Pollution” were plastered on cars, signs and office windows of alleged polluters. His identity was leaked to a select few, who called themselves the Fox’s “Kindred Spirits.”
At night he clogged polluting drain pipes.
Phillips’ brand of civil disobedience made so much sense even the local cops started helping him out. They tipped him off to stakeouts and surveillance. They left notes for him in the knothole of a nearby tree, and kept him one step ahead of their own police chief, a man they nicknamed the Sheriff of Nottingham.
In the summer of 1971, Phillips turned to Mayor Richard J. Daley’s plan to build an airport on an island in Lake Michigan. A friend drew a cartoon depicting an outhouse in the lake, with Daley standing on the nearby Chicago shore. A U.S. Steel executive standing on the Gary side pointed to the outhouse, and said to Daley, “Feel free to use the lake, Dick — we always did.” Phillips stuck the poster-sized cartoon on the Picasso sculpture in what is now Daley Plaza, in broad daylight. And neither the Sheriff of Nottingham, nor anyone else, could catch him.
“He never wanted to be in the spotlight,” said Gary Gordon, a longtime friend. “It was his deeds he wanted to speak loud and clear.”
Phillips was no eco-terrorist. He was careful to make sure no one got hurt. When he dumped sewage at American Reduction’s headquarters, Phillips felt so bad about the shocked receptionist he sent her a half dozen roses. Another time, Phillips threw a stink bomb through the front office window of Cargill, a company that had dumped leaking cans of paint into the Fox River. Along with his trademark signature, Phillips left a money order for $36.48 to replace the glass.
“The Fox was never about violence,” said Gary Swick, another science teacher and one of the Kindred Spirits. “He chose to work at a grassroots level, to build an ethic of stewardship for the land. He took action before laws and agencies like the Environmental Protection Agency even existed. That took a lot of guts.”
In 1973 Phillips took on another role. He became Pierre Porteret, a member of the Joillet-Marquette expedition that led to the discovery of the key Chicago portage 300 years ago. Phillips and six other men, dressed in 1673 period costumes, reenacted the journey in two replica birchbark canoes. The group paddled down the western shore of Lake Michigan from the Straits of Mackinac to Green Bay, up the Fox River of Wisconsin to the Wisconsin River, then down the Mississippi to the mouth of the Arkansas. On the return journey, they paddled up the Illinois River and up Lake Michigan to Mackinac. Along the 3,000-mile trip, the expedition stopped at more than 180 communities along the route and Phillips, as the environmentalist, talked about the changes in the land.
“It was grassroots theater; overt and guerrilla; a show for the folks in the heartland with a profound and provocative message at its core,” recalled Gordon, then a young reporter who became a member of the shore party.
At Starved Rock, Illinois, on the return journey, Phillips delivered a memorable speech to a room full of high-ranking state officials:
“Three hundred years ago I came down these rivers with the rest of these men. But something has happened since the time we saw the river. The flowers came in such profusion that I cannot even describe their beauty. The five feet of topsoil, that was so rich you could turn it under and grow crops to save the starvation of the world, how did you lose it? There is not one foot of it left. What have you done with it?
“I have fished in the rivers, and I have taken the pickerel and the pike; I’ve seen the walleye and the bass. And now I cannot even drink the water. What have you done to it?
“I breathed the air that was as clear and as pure as the morning breeze, and now my eyes water as I travel past your civilized cities. Why do you do this to yourselves? … Why don’t you allow your children, that you give life to, to grow up with the type of beauty that I once saw? There is precious little of it left.”
That kind of childhood logic made Phillips hard to ignore, and inspired legions of followers to carry on his most poignant message: this land belongs to all Creation. Cherish and protect it, or it will die. When Phillips himself died last fall at age 70, his ashes were scattered in his beloved Fox River by the voyageurs from his expedition canoe. They broke his paddle signifying the end of his voyage on Earth.
“The Fox was larger than life, and his actions spoke to a higher set of laws,” said Brock. “Setbacks didn’t discourage him. They only strengthened his resolve.”
Ralph Frese, another lifelong friend, agreed. “In his lifetime, The Fox became a legend,” he said. “The legacy he left is the challenge that we carry on the work he started.”
Copies of The Fox’s manifesto, Raising Kane: The Fox Chronicles, are available from Friends of the Fox River.
E-mail [email protected] $20.

James Phillips, 70, Environmentalist Who Was Called the Fox

Note from Real Life admin: It has been brought to my attention that there is an inaccuracy in the following article. Mr. Martin states that “His passion for the environment persists in a local group named for him, Friends of the Fox”, however, new information indicates this to be a false statement.
This information was provided by Pat Reese, who stated, “I am the founder of “The Friends of the Fox River,” and I can assure you our group was not named after The Fox, aka Jim Philips, and that there is no other group named “Friends of the Fox” in Illinois. However, there is a “Friends of the Fox” in Green Bay, Wisconsin, 300 miles away, also not associated with Jim.” Mr. Reese also provided official documentation supporting his information, and requested that appropriate corrections be made on this site.
-The Watchman
Originally posted:
October 22, 2001
James F. Phillips, an environment advocate who used flamboyant tactics like putting metal caps on top of belching smoke stacks, then leaving a note signed ”the Fox,” died on Oct. 3 in Aurora, Ill. He was 70.
The cause was complications of diabetes, his sister Dorothy Spring said.
Mr. Phillips led a dual existence as a middle school science teacher and an ecological saboteur, using techniques later refined by Greenpeace and other environmental groups. He never acknowledged that he was the Fox, although family members and friends confirmed that Mr. Phillips was.
”He carved a peculiar niche for himself,” said his friend Ralph Frese, a blacksmith and canoe maker who accompanied Mr. Phillips on a mission or two. ”He tried to disguise himself, but it was a thin disguise.”
The Fox plugged polluting sewer outlets and left skunks on the doorsteps of the executives who owned them. He collected 50 pounds of sewage that a company had spewed into Lake Michigan and dumped it in the company’s reception room.
”I got tired of watching the smoke and the filth and the little streams dying one by one,” he said in an interview with Time magazine in October 1970. ”Finally, I decided to do something — the courts weren’t doing anything to these polluters except granting continuance after continuance.”
Much of what the Fox did was against the law, and the police were hardly amused by the fox’s face, sometimes smiling, sometimes grim, that he customarily drew inside the ”o” of ”Fox” on the notes he left behind.
Robert Kollwelter, a local police sergeant, said in an interview with Newsweek in October 1970 that the authorities would charge the Fox with trespassing and criminal damage to property if they could catch him.
But they could not. ”It’s kind of hard to lift fingerprints from the inside of a sewer,” Sergeant Kollwelter explained.
At least one government official suggested that the Fox was performing a valuable service. The official, David Dominick, commissioner of the federal Water Quality Administration, said in a speech before the American Society of Civil Engineers in 1970, ”The Fox, by his deeds, challenges us all with the question: Do we, as individuals in a technological society, have the will to control and prevent the degradation of our environment.”
James Frederick Phillips was born in Aurora on Nov. 20, 1930. His grandparents were asparagus farmers, and he grew up on a farm. He earned a degree in biology from Northern Illinois University. He later taught science in middle school for 10 years.
In the late 1960’s, he was distressed to see dead ducks on the polluted Fox River, which meanders through Aurora to the Illinois River. He decided to take direct action: He stopped up a sewer pipe that was spewing sudsy wastes into the Fox River with plywood.
”Nobody ever stuck up for that poor, mistreated stream,” he told Newsweek. ”So I decided to do something in its name.”
He moved to bigger targets like United States Steel. In a 1970 column in The Chicago Daily News, Mike Royko told of his darting about Chicago putting up signs attacking the company for polluting.
For example, he posted a sign on a coffee shop window: ”Making steel is my business, murdering your environment is my sideline.”
Mr. Phillips later was a field inspector for the Kane County Environmental Department west of Chicago before retiring in 1986 to start the Fox River Conservation Foundation. ”He got a chance to do it legally,” Mr. Frese said.
The Fox’s escapades stopped after the enactment of state and federal laws to control pollution. His passion for the environment persists in a local group named for him, Friends of the Fox.
He is survived by two brothers, Herb, of Chicago, and Albert, of Verokua, Wis.; and two sisters, Dorothy Spring of Aurora and Margaret Webb of Fayetteville, Ark.
Photo: James F. Phillips

Captain's Corner

Captain's CornerWhen most people think of the CRIMEFIGHTER CORPS, they think of CAPTAIN JACKSON, CRIMEFIGHTER GIRL and the QUEEN of HEARTS. But in reality, there are many card carrying members.
One such member is Jordon Avon, also known as “The Eye”. He hails from Mountain View, California. Though we have never actually met, we have been in contact with one another for a number of months now.
And when people thing of the CRIMEFIGHTER CORPS, they seem to have the impression that our only mission is charity and promotion. Untrue. Jordan, for example, is in the private investigation business.
Being an investigator is an interesting business. Unlike what most people see on the many television programs, much of “The Eye’s” work consist of surveillance. In fact, he created a robot he calls “The Roving Eye.”
This ingenious device is a radio controlled “tank” with a video camera attached. The unit is capable of quietly approaching an area and transmitting both audio and video signals, and the “Eye” has used it a number of times in his line of work.
As I mentioned, and as is stated on our web site homepage, the CRIMEFIGHTER CORPS does more than contribute to the promotion of the city and charity events. Recently, a good citizen contacted me about a web site which seems to promote the use of drugs. After watching this negative propaganda and its accompanying video, I came to the conclusion that this was based out of the Los Angles, California area. Immediately I contacted “The Eye” and asked him to investigate. In less than two days he had valuable information and was in contact with the LAPD and filled them in on this corrupt site.
Jordan also has ties in Michigan, as is apparent in this open letter to the citizens of Jackson:
“Dear citizen of Jackson,
“From the remote CRIMEFIGHTER CORPS member known as “The Eye”, a California crime fighter carrying on the tradition of Captain Jackson… and I assure you that the core values of civic safety and good citizenship are also alive and well at this end of the country, as well as in the fine city of Jackson, Michigan.
“Speaking as one of particular Michiganian heritage, with my mother having been born in Flint before moving out west, I feel a close bond to you folks that having shared community-minded values richly provides. Have a wonderful day!
“Very Truly Yours,
“The Eye”
Our hats off to our fellow crime fighter Jordan. And as he usually ends his letters:
“If Life is not a daring adventure, it is nothing as all”—Helen Keller

Mexico’s ‘SuperBarrio’ offers to rescue U.S. elections

Article no longer exist on CNN
November 16, 2000 Web posted at: 7:54 PM EST (0054 GMT) 
MEXICO CITY, Mexico (AP) — With his red cape flying behind him, he has swooped into poor neighborhoods in the time of need, fighting for housing and setting up soup kitchens.
Now Mexico’s “SuperBarrio,” a social activist in red mask and wrestler’s tights, has offered to rescue the U.S. elections.
“Election crisis? Call us and we’ll fix it in 15 minutes,” read a placard at the front of a march of 40 people Thursday led by SuperBarrio that stopped outside the U.S. embassy.
He certainly has had experience with electoral dilemmas being that he is from a country which has had its share of races tainted with charges of coercion to outright fraud, and where a single party has ruled for 71 years.
But the Mexican superhero’s assistance in resolving the race between U.S. candidates George W. Bush and Al Gore isn’t without its price. In exchange, the embassy must give visas to thousands of Mexicans wanting to go to the United States, he said.
“If in this moment the embassy authorized visas for us, we would get results for the U.S. presidential elections today,” he said.
SuperBarrio,” or Neighborhood Superhero, has been crusading for the poor since the serious Mexico City earthquake in 1985. Always masked, he wrestles in televised matches when he isn’t organizing soup kitchens and other charity projects.

Mexico’s Real-Life ‘Superheroes’ Are Caped Crusaders for Justice

Originally posted:
Campaign: Taking inspiration from cartoon crime stoppers and wrestling stars, a string of social activists is donning outlandish costumes to fight for worthy causes.
MEXICO CITY — Faster than a bolt of lightning? Doubtful. Able to leap tall buildings? Not a chance.
Mexico’s newest superhero rushes into his headquarters, the office of the Union of Electrical Workers, flustered and breathing heavily under his leather and nylon mask after jogging from his car.
Even Super Luz–Super Light–can have trouble finding a parking space.
But when duty calls, this mere mortal slips into tights and cape to campaign against the government’s plan to privatize the power industry and to defend the interests of his fellow pole-climbers and linemen.
Just what compels a grown man reared in a macho culture to dress up like a cartoon character–and do it with a straight face?
“Precisely that the human being, the Mexican . . . needs the existence of heroes to be able to continue enduring a common and ordinary life,” Super Luz says.
Putting up with years of rampant crime and widespread government wrongdoing has left many Mexicans exhausted and cynical. But the sight of Super Luz thrusting his fist into the air can cause weathered electricians to crack a smile.
“Go, Super Luz!” one man cheers when the masked man bounds through–not over–the union building in downtown Mexico City.
Super Luz is just the latest in a string of Mexican social activists who have taken inspiration from comic book crime fighters and stars from the country’s unique genre of professional wrestling movies.
They trace their origin to El Santo (The Saint), a wrestler named Rodolfo Guzman whose silver mask propelled him to fame on the silver screen starting in 1958.
Guzman starred in dozens of films battling criminals, demons, witches and zombies before his death in 1984. “El Santo Against the Vampire Women” of 1962 is a kitsch classic, and his character continues to inspire a cult following as well as lyrics in Mexican rock music.
The passage from screen to streets came in the wake of Mexico City’s horrendous 1985 earthquake, when an incarnate superhero sprang to life to rally support for the thousands of homeless neglected by the city’s overwhelmed government.
He was Super Barrio, a paunchy figure in red and yellow spandex who became a cult idol for his attacks on the administration of the dominant Institutional Revolutionary Party. He led protest marches and rallies and helped form the Assembly of Barrios–a neighborhood coalition that defended the rights of the poor.
Super Barrio has kept a low profile since the leftist opposition won control of the city government in 1997, and he declined to be interviewed.
Other masked heroes have followed his path: Super Universal Ecologist fought to save the environment; Super Puppy explained the need to treat pets humanely; Super Policeman railed against corruption; Super Woman cheered women’s rights; and Super Gay denounced homophobia.
One of the longest lasting has been Super Animal. Like El Santo films in which the bare-chested, masked hero met desperate clients in his bookshelf-lined office, Super Animal welcomes visitors in costume from behind his desk in a disturbingly normal middle-class neighborhood.
The costume, he explains, is a sure-fire means of attracting attention to his cause: fighting for the rights and lives of animals–a battle he admits is difficult in a society enamored of bullfights, cockfights and meat-filled tacos.
But the mask and outfit are not only attention-getters, he says. They are a necessity for Mexicans who adore ritual.
“If they were to go to a church and see a priest come out for Mass in a T-shirt and jeans, would they like it or would they ask, ‘What’s going on, Father?’ He has to put on his vestments to reach the faithful,” Super Animal says.
“Here in Latin America people really like characters–professional wrestling, the films of El Santo. People like the masks.”
Super Animal and Super Luz, both of whom ask to have their real names kept secret, say they have taken the common man’s love of entertainment–specifically, professional wrestling–and sharpened it into a means of attacking a government they contend is intent on keeping the masses sated with bread and circuses.
Mexican television, with its history of state control, has been used to divert public attention from real problems, Super Luz says.
“What the mass media have given us is simply trash,” he says. “We are saying: Fight! Fight for economic stability for your families. Don’t remain asleep because the federal government is trying to bombard us so that the people will be stupid, conquered and forgetful of problems while they are focused on wrestling, soccer and soap operas.”
For Super Luz, Mexico could use even more superheroes–with or without masks.
“I believe everyone has an important fight because in Mexico there are many things that should be done,” he says. “And if there isn’t someone who says, ‘Here I am to do it,’ then no one will.”

Defender of justice Superbarrio roams Mexico City

poorMEXICO CITY (CNN) — He’s faster than a speeding turtle, able to leap small speed bumps in a single bound. Look, up in the sky … Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s Superbarrio — a flabby caped crusader in cherry red tights who traverses the streets of Mexico City, defending the lower class.
A high school dropout with a humble upbringing, Superbarrio has become one of Mexico City’s greatest folk heroes. For the past 10 years, he has stood as the champion of the working class, the poor and the homeless.
Superbarrio roams Mexico City
“I opened my eyes and found myself as you see me with a voice telling me, ‘You are Superbarrio,'” he said, explaining that his name means super-neighborhood. “I can’t stop a plane or a train single-handed, but I can keep a family from being evicted.”
His true identity remains a mystery, masked behind his quirky outfit. By day, he’s a street vendor, but at any time he can squeeze into the flashy tights to fend off evil. Little else is known about the masked man, fitting of a true superhero.
His role is primarily symbolic as the protector of low-income neighborhoods. But on behalf of squatters and labor unions, Superbarrio leads protest rallies, files petitions and challenges court decisions. Rumors also have circulated that he attempted to run for the president of the United States to better protect Mexican workers.
He says his mission is simply to protect the right of ordinary people.
Superbarrio, meanwhile, continues to stroll the streets of Mexico City seeking to uphold justice and defend the weak.
Correspondent Chris Kline contributed to this report.

Supergay outs macho Mexicans

Orignally Posted:
Who is that masked man – in the spandex pants? Phil Davison on a new folk hero
Phil Davison
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a professional wrestler? No, it’s Supergay, caped crusader for homosexual rights in macho Mexico.
Dressed in black spandex with a pink-sequinned cape, black mask and rainbow symbol, the country’s latest colourful folk hero stepped out of an underground comic book and appeared as large as life in the capital last week.
“It is time to come out of the closet. I am a symbol all gays and lesbians can identify with,” he said as he and two fellow rights campaigners, Superbarrio and Superecologist, symbolically “closed down” the Mexico City headquarters of the strongly Catholic and conservative National Action Party (PAN). The country’s fourth caped avenger, Superanimal – who fights for animal rights – was indisposed.
From as far back as the Aztecs, on through the days of Spanish colonial rape, Mexicans have traditionally hidden behind masks in more ways than one. In the cases of Superbarrio, Superecologist and Superanimal, the outfits are a publicity-grabbing gimmick. But in a country where men still wear cowboy boots, often tote pistols and prefer their wives to stick to making tortillas, Supergay’s mask may serve the strictly functional purpose of saving him from being beaten up. Some locals immediately branded him Supermaricon (Superpoof).
Superbarrio, formerly an all-in wrestler, was the first caped and pot- bellied crusader for the oppressed. He emerged when the government was slow to rebuild poor barrios in the wake of the 1985 Mexico City earthquake. So popular did he become that he has twice been cloned – three men now take turns to wear the costume. Superecologist and Superanimal followed over the last few years. Then along came the slimline Supergay, pronounced by some as in English, by others as in Spanish, when it sounds like Superguy.
“We symbolically sealed off the PAN building because of the party’s gay- bashing policies,” says Rafael Cruz, spokesman for Mexico’s Circle of Gay Culture organisation. “They forced the cancellation of a meeting in Guadalajara of the International Lesbian and Gays’ Association and continue to block individual rights.”
In the face of Mexico’s long-standing machismo, where borracheras (drunken binges) and la casa chica (“the second home,” or mistress) are what make a man a man, Mexico’s gays and lesbians are emerging only slowly.
“Homophobia still permeates Mexican society. Repression is total,” says Mr Cruz. “Five years ago, maybe 300 people took part in our annual Gay Rights March. “Last year, we got 2,500. But that was a group phenomenon. Individually, almost everyone is still in the closet. And we have a saying in Mexico: ‘El closet mata’ (The closet kills).
“Some gay groups think that, behind the macho facade, 10 per cent of Mexico’s 90 million people may be gay or lesbian, but who knows? Among politicians, entertainers et cetera, there are strong rumours as to who is gay. But no one has come out. Everybody knows that Juanga [popular singer Juan Gabriel] is gay, but he’s never said so.”
“You can’t hold hands or kiss here. The police extort money from us even if we stroll together in Alameda Park,” says Supergay, a 26-year-old computer engineer and graduate of the University of Mexico. His character began as a comic book hero in a free gay newsletter distributed by the Circle of Gay Culture.
“The only places we can really show our sexual orientation are the gay or lesbian bars but the authorities shut some down or blocked entertainment shows claiming they were ‘dens of prostitution’.” Gay men in the capital frequent bars such as el Taller (the Workshop), or Tom’s, favoured by “the black leather set”. Lesbians hang out in Enigma or El Gab, named after its owner, Gabriela.
“Gay transvestites have been murdered and the cases were never cleared up,” says Supergay. “Earlier this month, the owner of a gay bar, Bar 14, was horribly murdered. Someone bored a hole through him with a drill.”