WHO’S WATCHING OUR JUDGES? How The Crackhead Jesus Trials, White Guilt, Judge Donald W. Hafele, Judge James Robart, Judge Richard R. Clifton, Judge William Canby And Judge Michelle T. Friedland Exposed Judge Shopping And Judicial Tyranny To The United Slaves Of America While Knowingly Exposing Every American To Threats Of Terrorist Attacks From Improperly Vetted Immigrants Of Countries Where Sharia Law And Anarchy Rule.
On November 5, 2008 a painting was created by the Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II that begged the question, “Who’s watching our Judges?”
The work of modern-art-gonzo-journalism was inspired by Florida Case #50-2006-CC-016-579 dubbed, “The Crackhead Jesus Trials”, by weak mainstream media news outlets, that ignored the warnings of Judge shopping and judicial tyranny exposed inside a Court, presided over by Judge Donald W. Hafele, who was appointed by Governor Jeb Bush and who served in a little-known, three member board, known as, “The Fairness Of Elections Committee”, in the year that George Bush Jr. was appointed President of The United States, by Florida Bar Judges of the Supreme Court, without receiving the majority of the United States popular vote, in the year 2000.
Art imitates life, in that, the question posed in a work of modern-art-gonzo-journalism, manifested in 2008, rings truer than ever before in 2017; the year three judges from Washington State effectively put the lives of over 350 million Americans of every race, creed and color, in clear and present danger, because the truth is, Rule Of Law is for sale to the highest bidder, in the U.S. and does not apply in the same way to all citizens, because it clearly favors illegal immigrants and an elite 0.01%, like Hillary Clinton and John Stumpf.
Jenny Scordamaglia of Miami TV dared to venture where so-called investigative journalists wouldn’t, in her infamous, bi-lingual interview, with the Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBPWzGWRcHc
“It appears to Hispanics, Blacks, Asians and Muslims who are paying attention, in the Age Of Donald Trump, that white-guilt has some liberal-progressive Caucasians losing their minds, collectively, in full public view, to the detriment of all United States citizens and legal immigrants.” – Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II
Stunning Performance By The McCoy’s Frontman, Inspires Music Industry Icons To Produce Historic Rock And Roll Memorabilia, On Canvas, In Fort Myers, Florida.
On February 24, 2012, Rick Derringer walked into a room full of rock and roll icons gathered for rehearsal and blew everyone in sight away, with one of the most electrifying performances, any of the music industry legends had ever witnessed. The energy in the Sidney And Berne Davis Art Center, went from amazing to beyond intense, when Rick Derringer stepped on stage, grabbed the microphone and belted through a ferocious version of ,”Rock And Roll Hoochie Koo“, that left everyone in the hall breathless. The remarkable moment of Rock and Roll history was captured in a 41×56, work of art titled, “Live-Love-Flow“, manifested by the Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II, who was specially selected as an intuitive artist with synesthesia, to perform with the entertainment industry All-Stars, as part of the Modern Art Music Movement™ (MAMM).
THE RIVER WEEKLY NEWS ARTICLE ANNOUNCING THE INCLUSION OF THE MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II IN THE MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT ALL-STAR JAM.
THE MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, CENTER STAGE, SURROUNDED BY ROCK & ROLL ARISTOCRACY AT THE MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT ALL-STAR MAMM JAM IN FORT MYERS, FLORIDA.
“Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo” by Rick Derringer peaked at 23 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100. It was first released on the “Johnny Winter And“ LP (1970), with Rick Derringer and the McCoys (#1 “Hang On Sloopy”) backing up Johnny Winter. Derringer decided to re-record the song for his first solo single, on the 1974, “All American Boy“, LP.”Hoochie Koo” is short for “Hoochie Koochie,” which is sexual slang popularized by Muddy Waters in his song “Hoochie Coochie Man”.
RICK DERRINGER, POINTS AT CAMERA, STANDING BESIDE THE MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, ON STAGE, AT THE LEGENDARY MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT™ALL-STAR JAM IN FORT MYERS, FLORIDA.
Rick Derringer’s clever lyrics subversively imply female genitalia and the act of copulation:
“Hope you all know what I’m talkin’ about.
The way they wiggle that thing really knocks me out.
Gettin’ high all the time, hope you all are too.
C’mon little pussy gonna do it to you.”
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, FAR RIGHT, AT REHEARSAL, IN THE MIX OF THINGS, COLLABORATING WITH MUSIC INDUSTRY LEGENDS, TO CAPTURE MAGIC MOMENTS ON CANVAS, THROUGH THE MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT™(MAMM).
THE ART OF CREATION: AT REHEARSAL, THE MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, MANIFESTS ROCK AND ROLL MEMORABILIA WITH TITANS OF THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY, THAT COLLECTIVELY, HAVE SOLD OVER HALF A BILLION RECORD ALBUMS AND SINGLES, WORLDWIDE.
Like the Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II, Rick Derringer was raised Roman Catholic and attended a private Catholic school, for eight-years, during his youth. After a time of intense personal struggle, Rick Derringer was reborn in his faith and rewrote the lyrics to, “Rock And Roll Hoochie Koo”, reflecting a less sexual and more spiritual mood:
“Couldn’t stop shouting when it first took hold.
It was an awesome night at the old church hall.
There was an old time preacher he was laying it down.
Heard the word and you know I can’t forget that sound.
Read the word, live it too.
Let the truth be seen in you.”
“LIVE-LOVE-FLOW” (41X56) BY THE MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, CAPTURES THE UNIQUE MOMENT, WHEN RICK DERRINGER JOINED THE MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT ALL-STARS, FOR A ROUSING RENDITION OF HIS CLASSIC ANTHEM, “ROCK AND ROLL HOOTCHIE KOO.”
Rick Derringer and his wife own artwork from The Victor-Hugo Collection.
The New York Post, which some critics consider a rag, recently published an article by Michael Goodwin titled, “American Journalism Is Collapsing Before Our Eyes.”
IT IS NO WONDER THAT PUBLIC TRUST IN NEWS MEDIA IS ALL BUT EXTINGUISHED WHEN JOURNALISM IS FUNDAMENTALLY DISHONEST IN REPORTING EDITORIAL OPINION AS FACT AND TRUTH.
The New York Times has thrown out standards and violated all journalistic integrity in favor of echoing the Whitehouse and Hillary Clinton campaign.
AMERICAN FLAG VICTOR HUGO VACA II
The New York Times echoed the false premise of weapons of mass destruction, spoon-fed by Colin Powell and the Bush Whitehouse, to careless New York Times editors who published articles encouraging war in Iraq, without fact checking.
MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM PAINTING, “THE THREE SOLDIERS” REPORTED THE WAR IN IRAQ AS BOTH AN INVASION AND A FARCE, BEFORE IT WAS CHIC, AT THE 2006 “CONTINUE TO DESCEND” EXHIBIT FEATURING WORK BY JEFF KOONS AND MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, AS NOTED IN THE NY ARTS MAGAZINE ARTICLE BY KATE HICKEY.
History will tell that bad reporting by The New York Times was partially responsible for the United States Invasion of Iraq and the continuing quagmire that exists in the Middle East, which is now bleeding heavily into Europe and on American soil.
“GOD SPOKE BUT INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISTS WERE ALL LAID OFF, SO NOBODY LEARNED A THING.” MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM STORY BOARD DRAWING BY MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
Instead of using investigative journalism to confirm facts properly before publishing content as a beacon of news and information for public trust, The New York Times, Miami Herald and Fort Myers News Press, to name a few, appear to be practicing copy and paste journalism that makes modern-art-gonzo-journalism seem more like Jon Stewart’s, “The Daily Show”, to cultured Millennials.
IT IS ESTIMATED THAT BETWEEN 6-10% OF REVENUE, ACTUALLY GOES TO CHARITY, IN “THE CLINTON FOUNDATION”, EVEN LESS IN FLY BY NIGHT CHARITIES, THAT EXPLOIT HANDICAPPED CHILDREN, WOMEN AND VETERANS FOR POLITICAL FAVORS AND PERSONAL ENRICHMENT.
“I mean, honestly, the question, I think, now for the Clintons is, ‘What else don’t we know? What don’t we know about your donors? What don’t we know about the conflicts of interest that those donors represent when Mrs. Clinton is serving as Secretary of State?’ We are now finding out that so little of those charitable donations actually go to charitable works.” – Republican presidential candidate Carly Fiorina
2013 ANNUAL REVENUE OF THE CLINTON FOUNDATION WAS $149 MILLION OF WHICH $9 MILLION OR 6% ACTUALLY MADE ITS WAY TO CHARITY IN GRANTS, ALLEGEDLY.
To be fair, according to Katherina Rosqueta, the founding executive director of the Center for High Impact Philanthropy at the University of Pennsylvania, “There is an important distinction between an operating foundation vs. a non-operating foundation; An operating foundation implements programs so money it raises is not designed to be used exclusively for grant-making purposes. When most people hear ‘foundation’, they think exclusively of a grant-making entity. In either case, the key is to understand how well the foundation uses money — whether to implement programs or to grant out to nonprofits.”
THE UNDECIDED VOTER
Katherina Rosqueta, The Undecided Voter notices, is suggesting the Clinton Foundation is an “operating foundation.”
“THE GONIF INSIDE” MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM STORY BOARD DRAWING BY MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
The Clinton Foundation allegedly spent 12 percent of its revenue on travel and conferences and 20 percent of its revenue on salaries.
GONIFS COLLUDE WITH JOURNALISTS TO BAMBOOZLE DO-GOODERS INTO EXPLOITING THE FEEBLE MINDED AND WEAK IN SACRIFICE OF PUBLIC TRUST.
Mr. Bill was a friend of mine. When he needed shelter, I housed him. When he needed food, I fed him. One day, Mr. Bill called to ask a favor of me.
“The All Stars are getting together again, would you like to be part of the reunion?” He asked.
I recalled the thrill of being on stage, in front of thousands of cheering fans in Fort Myers, Florida, using my gift of synesthesia to interpret wavelengths and frequencies of music in color on canvas, with rock & roll legends, who collectively, sold over half a billion records worldwide.
“Is it going to be like the first time?” I asked.
“ALL STAR MAMM JAM” BY MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
“Yes.” He answered. “Only this time, it will be to benefit handicapped children. My girlfriend’s son has autism. He attends the Able Academy in Naples. I wondered if you wouldn’t mind working with them the day before the show at the school. The band is going to be there and so is FOX News. At the concert, I’ll make sure the stage is set up properly. If you don’t mind, we’ll bring the kids up and let them paint with you during one of the songs. You can stay with the band at the beachfront mansion I rented and I’ll cover your travel expenses. What do you say, can you do it?”
“Sure.” I answered.
“Oh, and after we perform for the children in Naples, we’re scheduled for a gig in Fort Myers, at the opening game of spring training for the World Series champions, the Boston Red Sox.” Mr. Bill paused before continuing. “So, you’ll be there too, right? You can create three Modern Art Music Movement paintings to commemorate the All Star weekend.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem. I’ll be there for all three MAMM Jams”
After hanging up with Mr. Bill, I got a phone call from my best friend Todd in New York, a huge Orthodox Jew that looks like an albino gorilla wearing a yamaka. He’s a wrestling champion, nicknamed, “The Hebrew Hammer”, who plays the harmonica with chutzpa and soul.
“My friend just invited me to a VH1 Fashion Week Party full of notable celebrities, he’s one of the performing artists, so it’s going to be VIP all the way, you want to come? VH1 gave him a suite at the Times Square Marriott, there’s plenty of room, you can be my guest.” Todd said.
“I would love to.” I answered, before realizing that the dates conflicted with the bond I had given to my friend Mr. Bill for sake of the children at the Able Academy. “Why don’t you join me in Fort Myers for an All-Star MAMM Jam with former members of Boston, Steely Dan, The Doobie Brothers, Third World, The Wailers and The James Brown Band, to benefit mentally handicapped children? I’ll tell Mr. Bill I’m bringing you as my guest and you can stay with me at the beachfront mansion he’s renting for the band.”
“You sure it’s going to be alright, remember, I’m Kosher, what about Shabbat?”
“ Dude, they’re rock legends, not anti-semites.”
“Alright, I’ll buy my ticket to fly down to your Labyrinth of Creativity on the beach near Miami. I’ll rent a big car for us to drive across Alligator Alley together, as long as you make sure I can celebrate my Weekly Holy Day.”
“You got it, Todd. I promise.”
So began my covenant with the Able Academy kids and my friends, never realizing that my commitment would lead to a series of events that left me afraid of charity and suffering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
CHAPTER ONE: THE SPECIAL ARTIST FROM NYC
The day before meeting the Able Academy kids in Naples, I was scheduled to appear on WRPBI-TV, which broadcasts out of Boca Raton, Florida, to promote the All Star event in Fort Myers. Prior to my interview, on a show titled, “Out Of The Haze with Bryan Hayes”, I was introduced to Snow, a Canadian Reggae Musician, whose song, “Informer”, has been recorded twice in the “Guinness Book Of World Records” as the best selling reggae single in U.S. History, as well as the highest charting reggae single in history, after spending seven consecutive weeks at Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1993.
I signed an autograph for Snow’s daughter talked to his manager, invited them all to the event in Fort Myers and next thing I knew, I was being asked intimate questions about my career as a “maverick artist” on a soundstage, in front of a television camera. According to Todd, who watched the show on a monitor backstage, the half-hour interview was “perfect”.
Outside, the weather was beyond nasty, torrential downpours and lightning strikes peppered the day and were forecast deep into the night. My trip across Alligator Alley to Fort Myers would be a dangerous journey. Thunder struck as Todd and I exited the television station, making a mad dash for the rental car, through deep puddles, under umbrellas that failed to keep us dry. Soaked, we began our adventure to the west coast of Florida, in the name of charity.
Halfway over the treacherous road that cuts through the Everglades, I received a text message from Mr. Bill advising me that Skunk Baxter, formerly of the Doobie Brothers and Steely Dan, had arrived at the Fort Myers beachfront mansion with his grandchildren, which meant there was no room for Todd and I.
There are no U-turns or exits on Alligator Alley, it’s one- way in and one-way out so, we had no choice but to stay the course. The weather was grave, as we drove cautiously through the darkness of night with little road visibility, in spite of glaring high beams, that only shined light on our immediate predicament. I could not respond to Mr. Bill’s untimely message in the midst of such severe weather because of our remote location, in the middle of the Everglades, which offered no cell phone reception.
After a grueling five and a half-hour road trip, Todd and I made it to Mr. Bill’s home near the Henry Ford and Thomas Edison estates in Fort Myers. My cell phone battery was dead, so I knocked on the door and asked Mr. Bill’s housekeeper to notify him of our arrival. I smiled at Todd, when I noticed the framed painting of, “Cristomujer”, which I had personally signed and gifted to Mr. Bill when he last stayed at my home as a houseguest, hanging prominently on his living room wall. Todd and I looked at framed photographs of Mr. Bill standing side by side with every single United States President since Richard Nixon and other notables in the music and entertainment world, as his voice carried over the cell phone speaker of his house-keeper.
“Don’t send them over to the beach house.” Mr. Bill said, unaware that he was on speakerphone.
“Shall I set them up here?” The housekeeper asked, with an embarrassed look on his face.
“No! Let them sleep in the fixer-upper.”
“But, there’s no beds or furniture, there’s no hot water or locks on the doors. Are you sure? There’s plenty of room here.”
“I don’t want them staying at the house, do what I tell you.” Mr. Bill said firmly before ending the call abruptly.
“I thought you said this guy was your friend?” Todd asked.
“He is.” I said, with a confused look on my face, as I dripped onto Mr. Bill’s wooden floor in front of his housekeeper, who looked back at me with pity.
“There’s a mattress in the garage. The garage is full of junk. If you guys help me, we can take the mattress out, put it in my truck, and you both can sleep on it over at the fixer-upper.”
An hour later, after wiping cobwebs and spiders off a stained mattress in the middle of a thunderstorm, we arrived at what appeared to be a crack house near the Edison Estate in Fort Myers. There were no blinds, shades or window treatments for privacy. Puddles riddled rooms in fluid Rorschach shapes from leaks in the ceiling. A blood red stain covered the kitchen floor in the manner of a human body drawn by Keith Haring, which made the place appear like a crime scene.
“You’ll have to climb through the window.” Mr. Bill’s housekeeper announced before exiting through the dank garage.
“I thought I heard you say there was no locks on the doors.” Todd interjected.
“Well, I don’t have keys for the padlocks used to secure the front and back exits, so, you’ll have to climb through the window if you really got to get out, otherwise, just come and go through the garage.” Mr. Bill’s housekeeper said in visible breaths that sliced through the pungent smell of mildew permeating the carport. “Doors broke, so it’s always open.”
“Are you serious?” Todd asked, looking at me sternly.
“Oh, and the toilets don’t work.” Mr. Bill’s housekeeper paused before adding, “And, I wouldn’t drink the water either, it’s brown.”
Todd and I were out of there, back into the storm, without a place to rest, hours before I was supposed to perform for handicapped children in Naples and thousands of classic rock and Boston Red Sox fans in Fort Myers.
After Midnight, we showed up at the beachfront mansion, where we were initially supposed to stay. I called Mr. Bill, to let him know we were outside but he didn’t answer the phone. Minutes later, he responded with a text message that read, “You can’t stay here. Don’t ring the bell, you’ll wake the band”.
Todd and I stared in disbelief, through buckets of rain being scattered by windshield wipers, at a huge RV that could easily sleep a dozen people, parked outside the beachfront mansion, while I contacted my manager to explain the situation.
“Can you find us a hotel?” I pleaded.
Half an hour later, my manager called back to say that all hotels in the Fort Myers area were booked. She said she would try to find us a hotel within a hundred mile radius and call back once she had secured a room for us.
In that time, Todd received a call from his friend, who had just finished performing at the VH1 fashion show in New York City, he was on speakerphone, so I could hear every detail of how awesome the event was and how amazing the star-studded after-party was going. I slumped into the seat as Todd stared down at me. I felt like such a shmuck.
“Why don’t you guys fly over on the red eye? There are hot models everywhere! I’ve got a suite at the Marriott Times Square for the weekend, the party’s just begun!”
Finally, around 2 a.m., my manager called with reservations for a hotel in Naples, not far from the Able Academy, where I was supposed to arrive at 8 a.m. to rehearse for my 9 o’clock performance with the All Stars in front of FOX News cameras and a roomful of handicapped children. The hotel was about two hours away, according to the GPS. It would cost me $287.00 to rest my head for a few hours, or I could hop on a flight with Todd and be in Manhattan, cavorting with A-list celebrities and models all weekend.
“It’s up to you.” Todd said. “I can drive us to the airport or to the hotel. Mr. Bill doesn’t sound like a very good friend and I don’t think he’s going to honor his word. Let’s cut our losses and get out of here.”
“Yeah, but I promised these kids. My manager says they’ve been studying my work for weeks and are looking forward to meeting me.” I answered, not sure why I cared, since, I don’t have children of my own and I much prefer partying with women than I do playing with kids. My instinct told me to get on a plane to New York and live like a party animal for the weekend but my heart told me to do the right thing and stay for the youngsters at the Able Academy.
Darkness shifted from crimson to amethyst before turning azure in the heaven above, shining a bright light in my eyes through the window shades, as the alarm went off, two hours after falling asleep. Todd stayed in bed; there was no waking him up. My brain was mush from lack of rest and my body ached from being trapped in a car for over ten hours. When I arrived at the Able Academy, the director of the school told me that Mr. Bill had just called to inform her that the All Star Band was not coming and since the band had cancelled, FOX News decided to abort the affair as well.
I had never worked with handicapped children before in my life. Without a clue, I told the director of the school to follow my lead and we would make something special happen for the rising generation. I determined the disabled kids would get a MAMM Jam, with or without Mr. Bill and his All Star Band.
“The show must go on”, I thought, through all the confusion. So, I grabbed some canvas, paints and brushes, out of the trunk of my car; found a radio and some strobe lights and hustled into the Able Academy as a text message from my manager came in, reminding me not to be late for the “Boston Strong MAMM Jam” , honoring victims of the Boston bombing at the Boston Red Sox Spring Training opener in Fort Myers at noon.
I told the school director that I only had two hours before having to rush over to the stadium. She said it wasn’t enough time to spend with all the kids and that they would be disappointed because they had spent weeks examining my work in anticipation of my arrival.
I suggested doubling the number of youngsters I would work with at a time and she said that would be impossible because mentally handicapped children could be uncomfortable and unpredictable in large groups. She warned me that even with the most experienced of teachers and professional counselors, they could get violent or unruly. I told her we didn’t have a choice and so my spontaneous adventure in art therapy with the special kids at the Able Academy began.
CHAPTER TWO – BOSTON STRONG
“All interesting artists are autodidacts.” – Massimiliano Gioni
In some Italian provinces, the word ‘artist’ is a synonym for dunce. An artist must walk a tightrope between being perceived as an illustrious nobody or a famous intellectual by critics disguised as cultural sycophants in an arena filled with smoke and mirrors. Being a creator is not a career for fragile egos, so to be a virtuoso, one must have thick skin.
I have been called all sorts of things by critics, not all of them complimentary, but I survive and my work will live on, long after my corporal being exits this plane of existence, in the expanding multi-universe.
In 2005, after performing a MAMM Jam with Rhythmm Epkins, drummer for “The English Beat”, and founder of the R&B funk group, “Mind, Body & Soul”, to raise money for the mentally handicapped, at a sold-out show in Bakersfield, California, where the first five rows were reserved for the mentally challenged, who were the most appreciative audience I have ever had the pleasure of performing in front of, I became known, by some critics, as, “Victor-Hugo: The Artist of Retards”.
When I performed MAMM Jams during 2009 Art Basel Week in Miami, Florida to sold-out, standing room only crowds attending the infamous, “Crackhead Jesus: The Second Coming Art Exhibition”, at the “Buck 15 Gallery Lounge” on Lincoln Road, a large group of women from Weight Watchers joined me onstage while I painted the unique moment on canvas, at which point, I became known, by some critics, as, “Victor-Hugo: The Artist of Fat Chicks and Retards”.
Some call me, “The Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo” others call me, “The Maverick Meatball”. Whatever the case, I’m happy. However, as I am an artist/activist birthed from a business background, I’ve come to notice that artists are often treated like “The-Retards-of-the-Business-World” instead of sober-entrepreneurs, by some ignorant top brass. Though, thankfully, not all influence makers exploit an artists’ passion, those who choose to dim the light instead of fueling the soul, manifest dark energy that fills the multi-universe, all this, in spite of knowing that entertainment is, in fact, like any other business, an industry that must flow perpetually, in balance of soul currency, to exist infinitely.
Art is not cheap to create. It takes effort, ingenuity and time and since time is money, if I had a Bitcoin, for every time someone, like Mr. Bill, told me, “Why don’t you perform for free, it’ll be good exposure?” or, “How about giving me one of your paintings, for free, to hang in my mansion, so all my filthy-rich friends can see your work, while smoking weed?” I’d be a tycoon of Rothschild proportions.
Do these unenlightened moguls ask Doctors to perform surgery for free or ask lawyers to satisfy their legal issues, free of charge, because it’s good practice?
I don’t think so. An artist must always risk failure, for failure is part of the process but that doesn’t mean creators should accept the status quo of double-dealing in business matters or any other affairs. An artist has class mobility, for that reason, particularly in a disturbed society, a virtuoso must ask the right questions, open consciousness, raise awareness and elevate minds.
An artist should serve mankind, for that reason, humanity should not become complacent with the profiteering of an artist because a true artist can be childlike forever and the exploitation of children is detrimental to any culture pursuing Enlightenment. Some muddled people feel the world doesn’t need artists because art doesn’t meet our basic needs to survive but that’s bogus; art fuels the soul currency of human capital that trumps any banknote or material treasure.
These thoughts raced through my aching head, as I prepared to meet my audience of special children at The Able Academy in Naples, Florida, hours before my gig with the All Stars at the Boston Red Sox Spring Training Opener in Fort Myers, Florida, to honor victims of the Boston Marathon bombing. As if taunting my choice of career, the outstretched, blank canvas, measuring 36 x 71, clipped to the front of a long table turned on it’s side, resting atop another elongated table, stared back at me, screaming, “Fail! Fail! Fail!”
I’ve heard people say that animals can sense fear and weakness. I don’t know what experts say about children with autism but I can tell you this, the moment the Able Academy director opened the door, to let kids into the room where I stood vulnerable, feeling helpless and alone in a cruel world, a beautiful boy ran to me, clasped my knees lovingly and looked up at me like a cherub in a chapel. I felt such overwhelming affection from the pint-sized angel holding a tight grip on me that, in an instant, all the negativity and cynicism inside of me washed away like the Great Flood. I fought back tears in that abstract moment that seemed to last a lifetime because I did not want to break down in front of the celestial beings surrounding me.
One by one, frail angels entered the room, coalescing in the ecstasy of colors, dancing freely with paint and brushes in their tiny hands as they guided me through the purity of love being expressed on canvas without shame, guilt or remorse. I noticed one child slumped in the corner with his face in his hands. He beckoned me with magnificent eyes that stared at me through the cracks in his fingers.
“”Would you like to paint with us?” I asked, as I knelt down before him.
“Art has power.” He said, letting his guard down.
“Yes, it does.” I said as I placed a brush in his hand. “Show me what you can do.”
“Believe in your greatness and it will be the death of your creativity.” He said, taking my hand in his and leading me to the canvas where we melted into the void of color alongside the other offspring.
The joy was so intense, time flew by the way magic moments do and before I knew it the unique experience was over. I said goodbye to the kids, packed my equipment, called Todd, who was patiently waiting outside the hotel after having checked out and assured him I was on my way to get him for the hour-long journey to Fort Myers.
He reminded me that we were running late.
Before leaving, the stunned school director asked me how I had managed to get the catatonic child to speak. She said it was a miracle because the juvenile never spoke to anyone. I told her I communicated with respect and dignity. The innocent confided in me that the adults didn’t understand them and didn’t pay attention, which frankly, was no surprise to me, since out of the mouth of babes comes truth and most adults can’t handle the truth, which is why some adolescents choose to stay silent.
Traffic was at a crawl, leading up to the stadium in Fort Myers. It seemed all of creation had come to cheer for the World Series Champions at the Spring Training Opener. My manager had coordinated for the Boston Red Sox to sign the painting created with the Able Academy children, for the artwork to be auctioned off in their benefit but when I got to the stadium, Mr. Bill chastised me for my manager doing so, claiming she had overstepped her bounds, “It’s my show, damn it!” He stated indefatigably before adding, “Hurry up, you’re late! The band goes on stage in 10 minutes.”
“This is your friend?” Todd said, looking at Mr. Bill with disgust and me with sympathy, as Mr. Bill’s girlfriend Melissa approached me with open arms and a huge smile.
“Oh my God! I heard you got my son to speak, I wish I could have been there.” She said holding back tears.
“Why weren’t you?” I thought to myself, sinking into her warm embrace while Mr. Bill stared back at me with contempt that I could not explain.
One by one, the All Stars embraced me before going on stage. I was reunited with members of Bon Jovi, Boston, The Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan, The Wailers, Third World, The James Brown Band and Foster Child, none of which were aware of the harrowing experience that had preceded our moment in time before the Boston Red Sox fans in Fort Myers. Like the victims of the Boston bombing, I was determined to carry on, undaunted by adversity, and so I did, creating “Boston Strong” alongside music industry titans, in front of a live audience on February 28, 2014.
The painting, “Boston Strong”, is signed by Bon Jovi’s bass player, Hugh McDonald ; Fran Sheehan, the former bassist and original member of the band Boston; Barry Goudreau, guitarist and original member of the band Boston; Leroy Romans, former keyboard player for Third World and The Wailers; Robert “Mousey” Thompson, drummer for the late James Brown; Danny Beissel of the band Foster Child; B.A.M. (Bad Ass Musician) and Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo.
Philanthropy is great but some charities are a sham whose only purpose is to make money for the producer of the fundraiser. Most charities are legitimate but others exploit children, veterans or the handicapped by using paid fundraisers whose fees eat up most of a donation through loopholes, so very little money is actually shared with those most in need.
In 2013, total giving to charitable organizations was $335.17 billion. Hundreds of charities claim to help the disadvantaged but how much of the money raised actually goes to the cause being donated to and how much cash goes to the fundraiser?
The answer, unfortunately, is almost nothing goes to the motive. Even if regulators try to shut down unscrupulous fundraisers for fooling donors, most operate without fear of reckoning because mainstream media, that survives on the public trust of its audience, has accepted exploitation of the underprivileged as status quo and therefore under reports the fact that very little money makes it to those who need it most when it comes to fundraising.
Case in point, the story of Charles Runnells, who covers arts and entertainment for The News Press in Fort Myers, Florida. When asked to research allegations of fraud by an alleged scammer in his community, focusing on specific causes like handicapped children and disabled veterans to play on the generosity of his readership, Mr. Runnells dismissed the accusation, as not worthy of his time for a thorough, in-depth investigation.
If you are thinking about giving to a charity, beware of fundraisers who: refuse to provide detailed information about identity, mission, costs and how donations will be used; won’t provide proof that a contribution is tax deductible; use high-pressure tactics in shaming you to donate; refuse to provide proof of percentage of donation actually going to the charity; refuse to provide forensic accounting of how much money will be going to the fundraiser, after expenses; are not registered with the state as a charity or fundraiser.
If you think you’ve been the victim of a charity scam, file a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission or contact your State Attorney. There is no glory in being a stooge. Stand strong in the face of adversity. Your action can help detect patterns of unscrupulousness that may lead to investigations and prosecutions.
I wrote some of what you just read on canvas, in front of Red Sox fans, during my performance at the Boston Strong Modern Art Music Movement (MAMM) Jam in Fort Myers, FL. When I’m on stage, I enter a trance, filling the void with colorful letters that swirl into words that dance in syncopation to the wavelengths and frequencies of sounds that surround me, manifesting sentences that educate audiences in a cacophony of coloring that provides a foundation, for the work of art created to serve as a historical document of the event, for future generations to consider, and digest, in light of the fact that, if you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything, because truth is imprinted on the canvas of life.
If what’s alleged about Bill Cosby is less sweet than a pudding pop, watchdog journalists, like Mark Whitaker, won’t investigate thoroughly; so too when it comes to Mr. Bill in the news press. In 1914, Walter Williams wrote “The Journalist’s Creed”. Essentially, it reads:
I believe in the profession of journalism.
I believe that the public journal is a public trust, that all connected with it are, to the full measure of responsibility, trustees for the public, that all acceptance of lesser service than the public service is a betrayal of trust.
I believe that clear thinking, clear statement, accuracy and fairness are fundamental to good journalism.
I believe that a journalist should write only what he holds in his heart to be true.
I believe that suppression of the news, for any consideration other than the welfare of society, is indefensible.
I believe that no one should write as a journalist what he would not say as a gentleman, that bribery by one’s own pocket book is as much to be avoided as bribery by the pocketbook of another, that individual responsibility may not be escaped by pleading another’s instructions or another’s dividends.
I believe that advertising, news and editorial columns should alike serve the best interests of readers; that a single standard of helpful truth and cleanness should prevail for all; that supreme test of good journalism is the measure of its public service.
I believe that the journalism which succeeds the best and best deserves success fears God and honors man; is stoutly independent; unmoved by pride of opinion or greed of power; constructive, tolerant but never careless, self-controlled, patient, always respectful of it’s readers but always unafraid, is quickly indignant at injustice; is unswayed by the appeal of the privilege or the clamor of the mob; seeks to give every man a chance, and as far as law, an honest wage and recognition of human brotherhood can make it so, an equal chance is profoundly patriotic while sincerely promoting international good will and cementing world-comradeship, is a journalism of humanity, of and for today’s world.
Well, that was then and this is now. In the internet age of NBC News Director, Brian Williams, being everywhere but in reality, journalist’s hide behind clips of kittens, puppies and laughing babies trending online, while wiping their asses with the Journalist’s Creed, which is why, I fused Hunter S. Thompson’s gonzo journalism with Salvador Dali’s style of impregnating subliminal messages into psychedelically-poetic-cryptic works of art, to create modern art gonzo journalism for The Lied To Generation through the Modern Art Music Movement (MAMM).
The twenty-four hour news cycle is brimming with cross-legged beauties wearing little more than big smiles while flashing their stately pair of gams for the camera’s voyeuristic gaze as teleprompters feed them the horrific news of the day, before thanking rainbow colored pundits tripping over themselves to avoid saying, “You’re welcome”, in response to the inviting news anchors gratitude for joining the staged broadcast. Instead, we as audience witness talking heads state, with great inflection intimating courteous one-upmanship, “No! Thank you, for having me, on your program.”
One can only imagine the number of viewers who masturbate while watching the news, in a world where titillation has replaced fact and, on that note, with a long, hard stroke of my thick, wet brush I finished painting “Boston Strong” in front of an open-mouthed audience in Fort Myers, Florida, that was begging for more. Alas, there was no encore from the All-Star Band, at the Boston Red Sox Spring Training Home-Opener. The eager crowd got what they deserved and from the satisfied look on their faces, they loved every moment of the MAMM Jam experience.
“What the hell was that?” Mr. Bill asked, when I got off stage.
“Modern art gonzo journalism.” I answered, nonplussed. “I paint the news.”
“Thank God it wasn’t one of your DNA Series.” Mr. Bill shook his head in disgust and walked away muttering. “Sperm painting.”
“Hey Bill, where am I staying tonight? I don’t have a place to rest and last night cost me three hundred bucks out of pocket. What’s up?” I asked the back of Mr. Bill’s head.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Mr. Bill answered, without turning around. “I’m busy.”
At that moment, I remembered a rumor about a friend of mine who plays with The Cars, J Geils Band and The Bellevue Cadillac. Allegedly, Mr. Bill had asked the beloved musician to join the All Star Band for a gig on Wall Street to raise money for wounded veterans but when it came time to reimburse the artist for travel expenses and accommodations, as promised, Mr. Bill failed to honor his word and left the well-respected performer in the red.
It’s a small world and news travels fast about a person’s reputation but all I knew about Mr. Bill at that point was, that like Bill Cosby, both men were highly regarded, well-liked and doted on by those who did not wish to disturb the Natural Order of Things in the entertainment world, so bad press was hard to come by for either man and uttering anything negative about Mr. Bill or Bill Cosby, was simply taboo in the entertainment industry.
I chose to reserve judgment as I stared at Mr. Bill ignoring my concerns in favor of being fawned by fans, backstage, in front of his girlfriend, Melissa. The truth is hard to swallow, so I buried my instinct and threw myself into the only thing that made sense to me at that point; the steady process of cleaning brushes, packing paint cans and breaking down my easel after an exhausting MAMM Jam performance.
THE UNDECIDED VOTER ASKS: IS NEWS MEDIA COLLUDING WITH “THE CLINTON FOUNDATION” AND OTHERS TO EXPLOIT HANDICAPPED CHILDREN, WOMEN AND VETERANS, IN GROSS VIOLATION OF PUBLIC TRUST?
“The Retarded Artist From NYC Gets Call From Mr. Bill Asking Favor To Perform For Abel Academy Kids” by Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II
“I just ran into Taylor Swift Shabbat and Clive Davis, I thought you were catching the red eye. Where the hell are you guys?”
“We’re at the Boston Red Sox game.” Todd answered his animated friend, who was calling from a New York City Fashion Week event.
“Well get your ass over here, Beyonce and Jay-Z invited me to their crib for a V.I.P. after party tonight and they said I can bring some friends.”
“I can’t make it, the Jewish Sabbath is in a few hours and we still don’t have a place to stay. Maybe tomorrow, after Shabbat.”
“What? I thought you said your friend set you up at a beach house with a bunch of rock stars.”
“He did but his friend bailed out on us and now we’re wandering about like vagabonds.”
The crack of a wooden bat smashing a baseball over the fence for a home-run sent the sold-out crowd into a frenzy drowning out the humiliating conversation going on beside me between Todd and his V.I.P. friend in Manhattan. I could hear every word screaming out of his cell phone as my Android vibrated to alert me that my manager was calling.
“You’re not going to believe this.” My manager said when I answered her call. “Mr. Bill told me to have Todd pay for a hotel but there are no hotels, it’s season, everything is booked.”
“What?” I answered in disbelief as Todd ended his call and eavesdropped on my conversation.
“Mr. Bill said, Todd’s Jewish.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.
“Mr. Bill said, there’s no such thing as a poor Jew, therefore,” My manager sounded stunned by his logic.
“I assume, he figured…”
“I knew it. Mr. Bill’s an anti-semite! He looked at me kind of funny when we met. Stop being a cheap Jew and pay for a hotel.” Todd growled at me as he rearranged the black yamaka, adorned with the Star of David, on his head.
“Hot dogs! Peanuts! Get your hot dogs and peanuts here.” The vendor shouted as timber splintered after colliding with a baseball that flew over the fence sending hearts soaring for the World Series champions who manifested another point on the scoreboard as, exhausted, I rose, embarrassed and confused, in a sea of Boston Red Sox fans.
“That’s not happening. Todd’s not paying for the hotel. What the hell is wrong with Mr. Bill?” I shouted into the phone as the crowd around me reverberated with delight.
“Why don’t you tell him that?” My manager asked. “Isn’t Mr. Bill with you?”
“No. He said he would come by to get Todd and I before the seventh inning stretch, so we could all go out for a late lunch, it’s already the bottom of the eighth.”
“I told you, Mr. Bill ain’t coming!” Todd shouted over my shoulder into the phone. “I’m starving.”
“Get Todd a hotdog.” My manager suggested as I put her call on speakerphone.
“I’m Kosher! That dog’s not kosher! I need to follow Jewish dietary law.”
“Listen, I found a beach house for you guys. The owners are big fans and willing to trade accommodations in exchange for four tickets to the All Star MAMM Jam in Fort Myers tomorrow night. I told Mr. Bill and he said he would get back to me but I haven’t heard from him, so if you see him, tell him to call me ASAP.” My manager said before hanging up.
“Let’s get out of here.” Todd kvetched. “Shabbat starts at sunset.”
We sat in traffic for hours with all the snowbirds, waiting to hear from Mr. Bill but he never returned my calls or text messages. Finally, my manager called with the news that Mr. Bill refused to barter four tickets in exchange for safe shelter.
“He said Todd should stop being cheap and pay for a hotel.” My manager added with disgust, as I put her on speakerphone. “Mr. Bill suggested you guys stay at his house or a trailer that’s supposed to be parked in his driveway later tonight.”
“I need to find shelter before the sun goes down. ” Todd insisted. “That anti-semites home is too far away at this point, we’ll never make it before Shabbat.”
My manager promised to continue searching for hotel accommodations on the web while we dodged in and out of roadside motels without no-vacancy signs, through crawling traffic, as the sun beat down on us before beginning to set.
“There’s got to be something.” I pleaded with the motel desk clerk who, like all the other hotel clerks I’d interacted with in the twilight, informed me that because we were, “In-Season”, there were no vacancies.
“My cousin, owns a motel just over the bridge, it’s called The Welcome Inn. I will call him now to see if he has any rooms available.” The pungent smelling clerk said in an almost unintelligible East Indian accent.
“Please hurry, I think my friends going to turn into a Pumpkin if I don’t find him a place to stay before sundown.” I said, while looking out at Todd shifting nervously while reading the Torah, behind the wheel of our packed rental car in the parking lot.
“Good news.” I told Todd as I entered the car five minutes later. “We have a room at The Welcome Inn, I made reservations. It’s just over the bridge. We should make it before sunset.”
And, we did. Just as the sun began to set, we drove past the hookers and crack-heads into the parking lot of The Welcome Inn. When I opened the door to our room, the first thing I saw was graffiti. Written in black magic marker on the dark green wall, beneath the black mildew from the leaking, air-conditioning unit, were the words, “Fuck You”, staring back at me. The writing on the wall was literally a sign of things to come during my stay with The Hebrew Hammer on Shabbos at, what came to be known as, “The Unwelcome Inn”.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR- HUGO VACA II BEFORE GETTING ON STAGE TO PERFORM MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT WITH MUSIC INDUSTRY LEGENDS TO BENEFIT CHILDREN’S CHARITY.
“I’ve seen the dark side of charity, the hypocrisy of philanthropy, enabled by weak news media and neutered journalists, that fail to tell altruistic people where their donations are really going and how little money actually goes, into helping the cause.” – Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II
Press, Blatantly Reporting Opinion And Hyperbole As News, Has A Frustrated Public Turning To Artists, To Document Untold History, On Canvas, In Lieu Of Weak Newspaper And Television Reporting In The Age Of Donald Trump And Hillary Clinton.
In the words of the alleged-serial-killer-spinal-surgeon, operating out of the Washington D.C. Baltimore, Maryland area, Dr. Charles Edwards: “You can get away with murder because you can always count on cops being overworked, underpaid and lazy and lawyers being greedy.”
Severe cuts in staffing high-quality investigative journalists at mainstream media news outlets, portends a disturbing trend, that should concern anyone who worries about living in a functioning Democracy.
“IF A MAJOR NEWS ORGANIZATION LIKE NBC IS GOING TO REDUCE THE NUMBER, AND IT SOUNDS LIKE A SIGNIFICANT NUMBER, OF THE PEOPLE WHO GO OUT AND GATHER INFORMATION TO GO INTO THE DAILY STREAM OF NEWS, IT’S GOING TO THIN OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD SOMEWHAT.” – BILL KOVACH
So, then, what is one to do in a world, where weak investigative journalists, peddle opinion as news and see “The Clinton Death List” and the World Trade Center, Building Seven, spontaneous-implosion, in New York City, on September 11, 2001, as conspiracy theories?
MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM PAINTS HISTORY IN A WAY THAT MAINSTREAM TELEVISION NEWS OUTLETS CAN NOT AFFORD TO DO.
Hopeless people, claiming cops don’t care and investigative journalists won’t listen, contact modern-art-gonzo journalists with stories that go unreported or woefully under-reported in weak mainstream media news outlets, due to lack of will, budget and corporate interest.
WORLD TRADE CENTER CONTEMPORARY ART MEME, EXPLORES THE FACT, THAT U.S. NEWS MEDIA, WOULD HAVE PUBLIC TRUST BELIEVE, THAT THE WORLD TRADE CENTER BUILDING SEVEN, COULD DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS.
In the way jesters, during the Dark Ages, were able to point out, that the King was not wearing any clothes, so too, modern-art-gonzo journalism is able to skim past false truths, fed in soundbites, to skeptical public trust, in creating a vernacular and visual , “Diary Of The World On Canvas”, that interprets the court of public opinion, in brief moments of time, throughout history.
“COMPLIANCE IS NOT A DESTINATION, IT’S A JOURNEY SAYS THE SECURITIES AND EXCHANGE COMMISSION OFFICE OF CREDIT RATINGS DIRECTOR TO THE UNITED SLAVES OF AMERICA.”, IS A WORK OF MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM CREATED BY MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, USING BEAR STERNS STATIONARY, FROM THE OFFICE OF A SENIOR MANAGING DIRECTOR, AS CANVAS, FOR THIS MIXED MEDIA WORK OF ADHESIVE GRAFFITI FINE ART.
The world has become so immune to corruption and dishonesty that lying thieves are becoming the elected choice of people who have given up and feel safe in the status quo of false promises and exploitation.
LIKE A FLY ON THE WALL, OR, “WHERE’S WALDO”, MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALIST, VICTOR HUGO VACA II, CAN BE FOUND IN THE BACKGROUND, CONTEMPLATING LIFE’S CURIOUS MOMENTS?
Corporations, like Nestle, buy water for pennies on the dollar, from natural springs, syphoned away, by greed, from public consumption and spend millions of dollars on advertising, with U.S. news networks, while people in Flint Michigan, are poisoned by corrupt government officials, under the nose of journalists, distracted by Miley Cyrus, twerking Robin Thicke, on an awards show.
“NEWS IS ABOUT ADVERTISING AND ADVERTISING IS A BUSINESS” – VICTOR-HUGO VACA II
News media turned a blind eye to the plight of the disenfranchised without a voice, until contemporary artists, like Cher and Beyonce, started raising public awareness about the reality surrounding us all, as cultured beings, in a state of rapid change and awakening.
DETAIL FROM FEATURED PAINTING, CREATED IN 2007 AT A MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT REHEARSAL WITH, MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II AND POWER, FROM RYTHMM EPKINS, “MIND, BODY AND SOUL”, BEFORE A SOLD OUT CONCERT, IN BAKERSFIELD, CALIFORNIA, TO BENEFIT MENTALLY HANDICAPPED CHILDREN.
The following is an emailed example, with the name of the sender omitted to protect sources of information, of the sorts of requests from citizens of Earth, to modern-art-gonzo-journalists, in the hopes, that their story of the human condition, will be documented in art, for future generations of investigative journalists and historians, to revisit artistic canvassed chronicles, in the pursuit of a remedy, for the growing cancer of dishonesty and corruption in the evolution of human nature:
“IN MY DIARY OF THE WORLD ON CANVAS, I PAINT WHAT I SEE, AND WHAT I SEE IS THE BEAUTIFUL CHAOS THAT SURROUNDS US ALL IN THE MULTI-UNIVERSE.”- MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
Hi,
My friend asked me to email you the following basic info:
– Very high profile business individuals involved
– $18 Million invested
– Potential dirty money from Mexico
– City official involved with under the table “help”
– Embezzlement
– Infringement of ownership
– Fraudulent transfer to avoid paying due to local businesses ($1.5+ MM due)
– Documents forgeries
– Known name and about to reopen under a new name within the next 2-3 months
– Currently several lawsuits already filed against various group’s entities
– Etc.
Ex-executive with thousands of supporting documents potentially ready to talk under certain conditions and guarantied multiple city publication (getting involved other journalist to publish it nationally)
Let me know if any interests.
MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II
“When I contacted WSVN 7 Fox News, after Hurricane Wilma, about a clear and present danger, impacting the lives of over fifteen-hundred residents, in a high rise building, destroyed by a tornado, the newsroom said: ‘Call us back when you see burning bodies flying out of the building, otherwise, it’s not news.'”. – Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II
THE ICONIC MIAMI HERALD BUILDING IN RUINS AFTER DECLINING PUBLIC TRUST IN WEAK INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM DUE TO STAFF AND BUDGET CUTS.
The newspaper, in its 300-year-long history, was the primary source for news and events. American society depended on newspapers to let them know what was happening and how to prepare for things to come. Since the advent of the Internet, a number of major metropolitan dailies have been shuttered or drastically pruned. This massive decline in Newspaper circulation has led to a Rebirth of Journalism. The way news is transmitted, shared and read have all been transformed.
OUT WITH THE OLD IN WITH THE NEW: MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II INTRODUCES THE WORLD TO MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM WITH HIS DIARY OF THE WORLD ON CANVAS.
Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II In Front Of Skeletal Remains Of The Miami Herald Building Before It Is Imploded, Bulldozed & Scrapped, Due To Declining Public Trust In Reporting, Declining Sales & Circulation.
What Victor-Hugo Vaca II has manifested, for public consumption, is modern-art-gonzo- journalism. By fusing the style of Salvador Dali’s cryptic artwork, containing hidden messages and clues, with Hunter S. Thompson’s gonzo journalism, he has created a diary of the world on canvas, to tell the untold story of an, alleged, serial-killer spinal-surgeon using money, lawyers and influence to perpetuate his, alleged scheme, of becoming the most prolific serial-killer in history and to warn masses of a small group of home-grown terrorists, disguised as lawyers, judges and lobbyists, who have infiltrated the U.S. Justice system, Congress, Senate and The White House, to undermine the Constitution, in order to actualize the death of democracy and herald a New World Order.
THE INFAMOUS MIAMI HERALD VICTOR- HUGO VACA II U.S. NAVAL ACADEMY ARTICLE THAT EXPOSED WEAK INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM OVERLOOKING THE DANGERS OF ENABLING TOXIC LEADERSHIP AND ITS FUTURE IMPACT ON SOCIETY.
On May 24, 1990, The Miami Herald published a story by staff writer, Mike Wilson, titled, “DIARY OF A YEAR IN HELL: The Navy called it ‘plebe year’. Midshipman Fourth-Class Victor Vaca called it harassment.” Besides getting his name wrong in the headline, his birth certificate reads, “Victor-Hugo Vaca Jr.”, The Miami Herald whitewashed the front-page world news story by understating the dangerous impact of breeding toxic leadership at the world famous United States Naval Academy, by training young officers to torture suspects and sexually assault female officers in an elite, powerful, clandestine community. It is no wonder that, recent news headlines indicate, U.S. military leadership problems persist, at the U.S. Naval Academy and other tactical training institutions.
THE SUNDAY CAPITAL ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND FRONT PAGE ARTICLE SUNDAY MAY 27, 1990 FEATURING QUOTES FROM USNA MIDSHIPMAN OFFICER VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
SEE SOMETHING; SAY SOMETHING: Victor-Hugo Vaca II felt it was his patriotic duty, to expose the horrors he witnessed, as a United States Naval Academy Midshipman. He saw leadership training, that eventually led to Abu Ghraib torture and prisoner abuse, as acceptable practice by U.S. military command and he knew that what he had witnessed, was not proper instruction for future commanders of the free world.
VICTOR -HUGO VACA II QUOTED IN THE SUN FRONT PAGE USNA ARTICLE “I TRIED TO STICK UP FOR MY RIGHTS, AND THATS’S WHAT GOT ME INTO TROUBLE.”
Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II was a whistleblower, trying to warn mankind, of the dangerous butterfly-effect, abuse of power would have on the future that now exists, in the age of Donald Trump versus Hillary Clinton, where lies are acceptable as truth and honor has all but disappeared, but The Miami Herald chose to present the story as a personal account of hazing instead of focusing on the big picture.
SUNDAY MAY 27, 1990 VOL. 90 NO. 21 THE BALTIMORE SUN FRONT PAGE ARTICLE FEATURING USNA MIDSHIPMAN OFFICER VICTOR-HUGO VACA II. (REPRINTED FROM MIKE WILSON AP NEWS WIRE MIAMI HERALD KNIGHT RIDDER ARTICLE.)
When Victor-Hugo Vaca II gave The Miami Herald his diary, he trusted editors would see the big picture and focus on the potential global impact of his unique experience; instead, they chose to spotlight minor incidents, like upperclassmen teasing his name. Teasing is a lot different than torture and shortsighted journalists failing to differentiate between the two in foreseeing the long term impacts on society is one example of why public trust has plummeted in news outlets.
USNA Midshipman Officer Victor-Hugo Vaca Jr.
Fast-forward to November 30, 2005, when The Miami Herald published a story by staff writer, Elinor J. Brecher, titled, “ARTIST SAYS CONDO WORKERS DESTROYED HIS ART PROJECT: An artist complained to police that his Hurricane Wilma-related art installation was damaged by somebody making repairs after Hurricane Wilma.” Besides getting Victor-Hugo Vaca II’s name wrong, again, the article failed to mention the fact that the 2005 Miami Art Basel week exhibit, was created to bring worldwide attention to allegations, that Baltimore spinal-surgeon, Dr. Charles Edwards, was more than just a slumlord, he was also, an alleged serial-killer.
THE MIAMI HERALD FULL PAGE ARTICLE FEATURING VICTOR- HUGO VACA JR. -JOURNALISTS AGAIN LOSE PUBLIC TRUST BY COMPLETELY IGNORING ALLEGED SERIAL-KILLER BUILDING OWNER ASPECT OF THE NEWS STORY IN FAVOR OF FLUFF, BECAUSE THE SUSPECT WAS A MAJOR ADVERTISER WITH THE NEWSPAPER.
When Victor-Hugo Vaca II confronted Elinor J. Brecher about this, she said Dr. Edwards legal team had sent a letter to The Miami Herald editors reminding them that he was a long time advertiser with the newspaper and that her series of investigative reports about the notorious Doctor and his trouble plagued North Bay Village monolith, The Grand View Palace, were creating potential harm to there longstanding business relationship.
“I thought newspapers were about reporting news?” Victor-Hugo Vaca II said.
“Wake up!” Elinor J Brecher answered. “Newspapers are a business.”
Crackhead Jesus Is Coming On Miami Herald
She went on to tell Victor-Hugo Vaca II how Miami Herald staff had been worried about losing their jobs based on rumors of a Knight-Ridder buyout by McClatchy and that the newspaper industry, would be decimated by the Internet. In March of 2006, McClatchy assumed about $2 billion in Knight Ridder’s debt when they purchased The Miami Herald and Brecher’s prediction about mobile technology and the Internet transforming newspapers came to fruition.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, NY BORN FINE ARTIST, CREATES 7,000 SQUARE FOOT GRAFFITI MURAL INSIDE THE HAUNTED HALLS OF THE INFAMOUS MIAMI BEACH ADDRESS OF LEGENDARY HOT SPOTS, LIQUID AND SHOCK NIGHTCLUB, TO RAISE AWARENESS ABOUT THE EPIDEMIC OF ECONOMIC FRAUD AND ECONOMIC TERRORISM DESTROYING AMERICAN ECONOMY ENABLED BY WEAK INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM.
Fast forward, to February 17, 2011, when a Miami New Times article by Michael E. Miller, titled “SHOCK NIGHTCLUB OWNER SKIPS TOWN WITHOUT PAYING HIS BILLS” revealed that Julien Manival nicknamed, “The French Bernie Madoff”, had bragged to El Nuevo Herald, The Miami Herald’s Spanish language sister- publication, that he wanted his patrons’ heads to spin for days from all the special effects in his new nightclub, located at the former address of the legendary Liquid Nightclub.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II INSIDE THE 7,000 SQUARE FOOT MODERN- ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM GRAFFITI MURAL, WRITTEN IN SEVEN LANGUAGES INCLUDING: ARAMAIC, FRENCH, GERMAN, CHINESE AND SPANISH, HE MANIFESTED THROUGHOUT THE HAUNTED HALLS OF THE INFAMOUS LIQUID, SHOCK NIGHTCLUB, WASHINGTON AVENUE, MIAMI BEACH, FLORIDA, ADDRESS.
Having been hired as the official artist of Shock Nightclub by Manival himself, to create, “a world-record sized fine-art-graffiti mural” at the infamous 1437-39 Washington Avenue address on South Beach, Victor-Hugo Vaca II witnessed, first hand, the corruption and dangers to public safety that existed before two separate FBI corruption investigations led to eight individuals charged and arrested in a corruption probe including Miami Beach Code Compliance Officers, Miami Beach Firefighters and a Miami Dade Police Officer.
MIAMI BEACH MAYOR, MATTI BOWER, AND MIAMI HERALD EDITORS KNEW THAT THOUSANDS OF INTERNATIONAL PARTYGOERS WERE IN CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER OF CEILING COLLAPSE AT 1437-39 WASHINGTON AVENUE, SHOCK NIGHTCLUB, FEATURING THE ARTWORK OF MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, BUT NEITHER DID ANYTHING TO GAIN PUBLIC TRUST BY WARNING TRAVELERS AND CONSTITUENTS.
Mayor Matti Bower and Miami Herald Editors had photographic evidence of clear and present danger, including shocking images of a rotting second story dance floor being concealed, without permits, to withstand the weight of hundreds of trusting revelers. Every editor at the Miami Herald was alerted to the dangerous situation being perpetrated by the epidemic of economic fraud and corruption endangering the lives of unsuspecting visitors to Miami Beach and its constituents.
MIAMI HERALD AND MAYOR MATTI BOWER FORFEIT PUBLIC TRUST BY IGNORING CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER AT POPULAR MIAMI BEACH NIGHTCLUB ADORNED WITH FINE ART AND GIGANTIC GRAFFITI MURAL BY NEW YORK BORN HISPANIC ENTREPRENEUR MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
CBS NEWS MIAMI FILMED THE 7,000 SQUARE FOOT MODERN-ART-GONZO- JOURNALISM GRAFFITI MURAL TITLED, “FLOW”, BY MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II. THE MURAL CONTAINED SUBLIMINAL GRAFFITI IN SEVEN LANGUAGES AND POINTERS, FOR THE INQUISITIVE, PAINTED WITH FINE ART OIL BRUSHES, WITHIN THE LARGE WORDS, THAT TOLD A STORY OF CORRUPTION, FOR SAVVY SOCIALITES, INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISTS AND THOSE ENTRUSTED WITH PUBLIC SAFETY TO DO THEIR JOB AND CATCH THE CLUES LEADING TO THE REALIZATION OF A CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER POSSIBLY EXISTING ABOVE THE HEADS OF UNSUSPECTING INTERNATIONAL LUMINARIES AND CELEBRITIES, LIKE LADY GAGA AND RICKY MARTIN, DANCING THE NIGHT AWAY, IN THE VIP SECTION, OF ONE OF THE MOST INFAMOUS CLUBS ON SOUTH BEACH.
For reasons unknown, CBS News producers never aired the footage they obtained from inside of Shock Nightclub but Jenny Scordamaglia (Miami TV, VidBloggerNation), dared to air the following segment on the first season of her show, “Off Limits”, featuring the infamous censored and stolen paintings and 7,000 square foot fine-art-graffiti mural by Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II, intended to raise awareness about economic terrorism and the epidemic of economic fraud impacting the global economy.
After a couple of weeks, Shock Nightclub abruptly shut down. When “The French Bernie Madoff”, Julien Manival’s, checks started bouncing, the Frenchman jetted back across the Atlantic, leaving behind over $100,000 in outstanding debts and an unsafe dance floor that could collapse under pressure on hundreds of unsuspecting people.
MONEY TRUMPS PUBLIC SAFETY: THE MIAMI HERALD FAILED TO REPORT UNSAFE STRUCTURE AT THE WORLD FAMOUS, SHOCK NIGHTCLUB, FEATURING DECOR BY MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
Once money became an issue, mainstream media news outlets like, The Miami New Times, began reporting the economic fraud and money laundering taking place between Miami Beach and France. Yet, editors at The Miami Herald failed to publish the photos they had in their possession, of rotting, unsafe, elevated dance floors, in the heart of Miami Beach, where the privileged pay good money to play and party like rock stars, royalty and celebrities in venues like Shock Nightclub, with artistic decor by Florida International University Alumni, Victor-Hugo Vaca II.
THOUSANDS OF WINTER MUSIC CONFERENCE REVELERS FROM ALL OVER THE GLOBE WERE COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF THE POTENTIAL CEILING COLLAPSE AT “SHOCK NIGHTCLUB” BECAUSE THE MIAMI HERALD FAILED TO REPORT ON THESE PHOTOS, IN POSSESSION OF MAYOR MATTIE BOWER, SHOWING CONSTRUCTION WORK DONE WITH NO LICENSE OR PERMIT TO SECURE A ROTTING CEILING AND DANCE FLOOR.
The Miami Herald showed their commitment to public trust by dismissing the report. The only article published by the Miami Herald regarding Shock Nightclub was an article, that appeared in the Spanish language newspaper, El Nuevo Herald, noting the exceptional artwork and graffiti created by the New York born Hispanic artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II and heralding Julien Manival, as a nightclub impresario, creating a safe haven for elite patrons and public figures from around the world, in the heart of Miami Beach, Florida.
JET-SETTERS AND WEALTHY GLOBE TROTTERS WERE COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF THE POTENTIAL CEILING COLLAPSE AT THE WORLD FAMOUS SHOCK NIGHTCLUB, DECORATED IN GRAFFITI AND FINE ART BY MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II, BECAUSE THE MIAMI HERALD DISMISSED PUBLIC TRUST IN REPORTING CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGERS TO THE COMMUNITY.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II MASSIVE “FLOW” GRAFFITI MURAL TOWERS OVER PARTY PEOPLE FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD, COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF THE POTENTIAL CEILING COLLAPSE AT SHOCK NIGHTCLUB, BECAUSE THE MIAMI HERALD FAILED PUBLIC TRUST, IN FAVOR OF PUBLISHING AN ARTICLE PRAISING THE ARTWORK OF THE MODERN-ART-GONZO- JOURNALIST.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II 7,000 SQUARE FOOT GRAFFITI MURAL TITLED, “FLOW” AND FINE ART BY THE MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT FOUNDER DECORATED THE WALLS OF THE WORLD FAMOUS MIAMI BEACH SHOCK NIGHTCLUB FREQUENTED BY AFFLUENT TRENDSETTERS AND GLOBETROTTING CLUBGOERS.
Fast forward again, this time to September 19, 2013 when the Pultizer Prize winning, Sun Sentinel published two stories about a high-speed chase on a winding, ocean-front, mansion-lined, two-lane road, through an exclusive residential neighborhood, without sidewalks, the day after an innocent victim was killed during another high-speed chase in the Miami Herald readership area and just days before Miriam Carey, was shot to death in D.C., with a 1-year-old girl in her car, after a high-speed car chase. The front-page articles contained quotes from the eyewitness account, of Victor-Hugo Vaca II, which were also given to Miami Herald reporters, who asked for bystander testimony.
‘THE BOOK OF LIFE PASSED ME BY AS I WALKED MY DOG’ BY VICTOR-HUGO VACA II
Neither newspaper mentioned the cavalry of black, grey and blue, unmarked SUV’s, that trembled earth, through the community, known as, “Millionaires Row”, like an endless rumbling freight train, at unsafe speeds, for over forty-five minutes, after the media reported, “two-minute” car chase, was over.
THE MIAMI HERALD REPORTS AN EARTH SHAKING, FORTY-FIVE MINUTE ONSLAUGHT OF HIGH-SPEED UNMARKED CARS RACING THROUGH “MILLIONAIRES ROW” ON A TIGHT, WINDING ROAD, AS A “TWO-MINUTE” CAR CHASE.
The Sun Sentinel Article read:
Victor-Hugo Vaca Jr. was walking his dog Romeo in front of his Hillsboro Beach home when the suspect’s vehicle and patrol cars whooshed past him like a barreling train, he said. Vaca feared for his life and first thought of Medina, he said.
“That’s the first thing that flashed in my mind. The second thing was my dog and my own safety,” he said. “I had enough time to grab his neck back with the leash before he walked into that chaos. It gave me just enough time to react.
“I felt the force of the chase coming towards me. They were coming at such a velocity and there was such a caravan of metal,” he said. “We were stuck in our tracks; we didn’t move.”
A bicyclist on the opposite side of the road jumped off his bike because he was so shaken and told Vaca how terrified he was, he said.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II WITH HIS DOG ROMEO.
Roaring past pedestrians on a narrow, winding road at high speeds, for over forty-five minutes, a motorcade of unmarked law enforcement vehicles in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods on earth, recklessly endangered the lives of pets and pedestrians in the name of the law, but that’s not how The Miami Herald reported the incident, witnessed by Hillsboro Beach, Florida resident, Victor-Hugo Vaca II.
THE ICONIC MIAMI HERALD BUILDING IN RUINS AFTER DECLINING PUBLIC TRUST IN WEAK INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM- OUT WITH THE OLD IN WITH THE NEW: MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II INTRODUCES THE WORLD TO MODERN-ART-GONZO-JOURNALISM WITH HIS DIARY OF THE WORLD ON CANVAS.
The Miami Herald made it seem like all the life threatening chaos along “Millionaires Row” ensued over a burglary suspect and never delved deeper into this curious story that begged the questions, “Why would over 60 unmarked cars race through a winding road at breakneck speeds for over forty-five minutes endangering civilians to catch a burglar? What exactly did the suspect steal in the mega-mansion neighborhood, to warrant such an extreme response, from undercover law enforcement and where did all the unmarked vehicles come from?”
WINTER MUSIC CONFERENCE MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT ALL-STAR DJ MAMM JAM EVENT FEATURING MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II.
The painting titled, “Public Trust: The Story of How Miami Herald Circulation Declined”, was created for the promotion of public welfare, live, on-stage, at the 2013 Winter Music Conference (WMC) Sunbreeze Dance Music Festival with All-Star Dj’s including Ron D *8*Lim (Power of Love), DJ Romain, DJ Yass, Nermin, Viktor Simonelli, Patrick Bo, N ‘Dinga Gaba and Neal Fox (Polydor, RCA and Columbia Records recording artist).
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II MANIFESTING, “PUBLIC TRUST: THE STORY OF HOW MIAMI HERALD CIRCULATION DECLINED”, ON STAGE AT THE WINTER MUSIC CONFERENCE ALL-STAR DJ’S MAMM JAM IN MIAMI BEACH.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II WITH THE POWER OF LOVE, RON D 8 LIM, PERFORM MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT, AT THE WINTER MUSIC CONFERENCE ALL STAR DJ’S MAMM JAM.
The Power Of Love with Ron D 8 Lim has performed at The Winter Music Conference (WMC), FUSE, Detroit Electronic Music Festival, Art Basel Miami and fashion shows for BCBG and Elle.
MAVERICK ARTIST VICTOR-HUGO VACA II PERFORMS WITH RON D 8 LIM AT THE WINTER MUSIC CONFERENCE MODERN ART MUSIC MOVEMENT MIAMI MUSIC WEEK MAMM JAM IN MIAMI BEACH FLORIDA.
The Maverick Artist Victor-Hugo Vaca II and Neal Fox (The Conspiracy Project, Deliberate Dumbing Down of America, Fuck The Fed, Thank You, Dan Rather) collaborated on the following video, which premiered at the Miami Music Week Winter Music Conference (WMC) All Star Dj’s MAMM Jam event.
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