Congratulations to OAEC and their new beaver help desk. Look around for Cheryl’s awesome photo somewhere.


This comic started making the rounds in July and was traced to a local newsletter called NAPA VALLEY FOCUS, the labor of love of one Tim Carl Tim Carl, a freelance journalist and photographer, is a Napa Valley native and former winery owner.
Do a quick google search to see just how well known he is in the region.
Then the comic was sent from a friend in the area I asked the NVF who it was by and for permission to share it. Tim wrote back and said it gave me the all clear. I added the credit because something that famous already needs a tag.
Thanks Tim.
All of us down in WEVille liked freedom a lot
But the Trump who lived in the white house did not
The Trump hated freedom and said it was treason
Now please don’t ask why no one quite knows the reason
It could be his head wasn’t screwed on just right
Or maybe his cankles and knees were too tight
But I think the most likely reason of all
Must have been that his Dad never hugged him at all.
Whatever the reason, his Dad or his knees
He stood up there every night hating the WE’s
Flanked by his minions who all hate them to
They plot how they’re coming for me and for you
For they know every WE, all of your friends and mine
Is busily making their own NO KINGS sign.
They call in their soldiers with hate and with fear
“Antifa is coming! It’s practically here!”
Then Tump flexed his small hands ‘til the bronzer was showing
“I Must find some way to stop freedom from growing!”
For tomorrow he knew, all the WE girls and boys
Would dress up like frogs and without any poise!
And then! Oh, the noise!
That democracy noise!
Shouting and Chanting the Noise!
NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!
Then the WE’s young and old would all stop for a song
Or a speech or a chant where they all joined along
TOGETHER! Like commies! Some even hold hands
Singing with banjos or Dixie land bands.
Which neither the Trump nor his minions could stands
And then they’d do something he feared even more
Every WE down in WEville the rich and the poor
Would come close together, their favorites promoting
At the polls or the mailbox and WE’s would start VOTING!
And they’d vote And they’d vote!
And they’d VOTE for NO KING!
And the more the Trump thought of this WE vote NO KING!
The more that Trump knew he must STOP this WHOLE THING.
“If it weren’t for their cheating I just know that I’d win”
“I must stop then now or they’ll do it again”
Then he got an idea. An awful idea.
The Trump got a awful unlawful idea!
“I know just what to do” the Trump rubbed his small hands
“I will stop all this protesting right where it stands”
The idea so cheered him he got an erection
“Why I ‘ll just claim the rally is their insurrection!”
“All I need is an army.” The Trump looked around
But since army’s are scarce there was none to be found
Did that stop Mr. Trump? No the man simply said
“The National guard will work fine in their stead.”
So he called his big guns and his minions all made them
“Antifa is coming! George Soros has paid them!”
And he loaded grenades and some bullets went down
On the backs of some tanks and they drove into town
“I’m just like Washington” He cried as they charge
“If he had been older and racist and large!”
All the houses were dark, quiet smoke filled the air
All the WE’s were all dreaming sweet dreams without care
When he came to the first little house on the square.
“This is stop number one” old cankle pants hissed
To the wraith Stephen Miller, so grim in his fist.
Steve slid through the mailslot, flat as can be
Fake ballots could make it, why then so could’t he!
He got stuck in the middle but that hardly mattered
When this was all done and democracy shattered
He saw painted signs waiting fresh in a row
“Those signs” barked his boss “are the first things to go!”
Steve unlocked the door for the man and his mallots
Then they marched though the house taking frog suits and ballots!
Trumpets and tee shirts, stickers and flyers!
Chicken suits stollers and flags, the big liars!
They stuffed them in bags, then the two very thankful
Loaded them all till they had a whole tankful!
For the stained bill of rights the man brought out the shredder
“This excellent night just keeps on getting better!”
And the old constitution he started to shred
Til he heard a small sound and he whipped round his head
Standing behind was a very small WE
Little Betty-Lee WE who was no more than three.
The man had caught by this tiny believer
He wondered if he’d have a chance to deceive her
She stared at the thief and said “Mr. Trump why?”
“Why are you shredding the document WHY?”
But you know that greased palm was so weaselly and slick
He thought up a lie and he thought it up QUICK!
“Why my sweet little tot.” The aged despot lied
“The dangers and criminals come from one side!”
I’m just cutting out all the parts that are wrong
“I’ll save the good bits; make America Strong!”
His lie fooled the child, he patted her head,
Gave her a drink and then sent her to bed
And when Betty-Lee WE went to bed with her cup
He made sure that thing had been all shredded up
He picked up the parchment and old constitution
Consigned it to flames with some electrocution.
No more rule of law and no legal solution
And the one single rule that the man left on the hill
Was norm that was even too weak for a bill
Then he did the same thing to the courts and senate
Leaving norms much too small for the cancers within it
It was nearly half time, all the WE’s and the banks
Still deeply in slumber. Trump packed up the tanks
Packed them up with the freedoms, the councils, the juries,
The Senate and Congress the storms and the flurries
Three thousand feet up; past the cracks of Mt Doom
The Volcano snorted, he yelled to the room
“Pee Pee” to the WE’s he was Trumpily humming
“There finding out now that no Freedom is Coming!”
“They’re just waking up. , I know just what they’ll do ”
“They’ll reach for the ballots that I tore in two”
“Then the Snowflakes in WEville will all cry BOOHOO”
“That’s a noise,” said the Trump “That I simply MUST here”
And a makeup-caked hand slowly reached to his ear
And he did hear a sound rising drifting down through the cave
It started out timid and then it got brave
Each moment he listened the sound sounded prouder
It shouldn’t be so. but it was getting louder.
He looked at his phone and Trump popped out his eyes
Then he shook, what he saw was a shocking surprise
Every WE down in WEville the rich and the poor
Was marching together right up to his door!
HE hadn’t stopped Freedom from coming! It CAME~
Some how or other it came just the same.
And the Trump and his minions, starred into the sea
All puzzling and puzzling, just how can it BE?
“It came without guidelines it came without laws”
“It came without senators wagging their jaws”
And they puzzled three hours til the shadows grew tall
Then tan idea occurred where it hadn’t at all.
“Maybe freedom is not from the National Mall”
“Maybe freedom lives on in the hearts of us all”
“And what happened then? Well in WEville they say
The short bill of rights grew three sizes that day!
And the minute the soldiers all laid down their arms
The old constitution grew back with its charms
The dictator vanquished his minions demoted
And country restored, cuz the people HAD VOTED.

I’m so old I remember when Ian was the only one.
Who are you calling a nuisance? Conservationists work with, not against, nature’s greatest engineersA growing coalition of conservation and advocacy groups across the country are working to shift the narrative surrounding beavers.
Historically, the animals have been considered nuisance wildlife. Their primary diet consists of tree bark, twigs, roots, and aquatic plants – and gathering those food stores can lead to damaged trees for landowners. The semi-aquatic mammals also use woody materials and large trees to dam waterways.
While that creates ecologically beneficial wetlands, landowners and farmers often report flooded roadways and agricultural fields when beavers are present. Until recently, standard practice has been to trap and relocate beavers when they’re found on private property.
Now, a volunteer group at Bernheim Forest and Arboretum, as well as national groups like the Southeast Beaver Alliance and the Beaver Institute are working to show the long-term benefits of coexisting with the animals rather than relocating them.
The Beaver Brigade
The SF Chronicle is out with a generous “”Martinez isn’t all that bad” article by hard-hitting culture critic Peter Hartlaub He praises States coffee and Luigi’s sandwiches and even has an update on the famous beavers which according to him a are now living in a tank under the mayors desk.
Or something.
Driving by Martinez for the last 40 years, my instinct has been to roll up the windows and increase my speed. The city has mostly been defined to outsiders by the imposing wall of refinery equipment visible along Interstate 680.
But that’s the East Bay city’s secret weapon: the element of surprise.
With a historic downtown best accessed by train, Martinez is a thriving throwback filled with all the things you need for a perfect five-hour day trip: antiquing, breweries, coffee shops, real and mythical history, a shipwreck, beavers and two of my Top 10 Bay Area sandwich shops.
Such gallant praise! You actually stopped driving by with your windows rolled up? How you do go on! We’re blushing. Stop it.
With apologies to Sunol and Crockett, this is my new No. 1 Bay Area city if I ever have to go into witness relocation. It’s the perfect setting for one of those romantic comedies where an in-need-of-humbling city slicker breaks down in a small town.
What’s the rest of Peter’s Top 10 sandwich list? Subscribe to the Total SF newsletter to find out.
Total SF: This Bay Area planned community was scorned. Turns out it’s pretty great.
“It’s not pretentious. It’s very working class, but a mix of all kinds of people,” says Rachel Lowenthal from behind the desk at Faded Gold Vintage, a clothing store filled with concert T-shirts from every band I loved in the 1980s and 1990s. Her dog Slash sits in a pen behind the cash register.
“I’ve always liked the small-town vibe, but also going in a more progressive direction.”
Yeah yeah yeah. Salt of the earth and plenty of it. An entire salt shaker of the earth. That’s what we got in Martinez.
The first thing you need to know about Martinez is that it was always pretty cool.
The town along the Carquinez Strait hosted the Bay Area’s first ferry service in the mid-1800s, was the birthplace of Joe DiMaggio, home of naturalist John Muir and kinda-maybe hosted the bar that made the first martini. (It’s still under debate, more on that later.)
He muses about the forester and wanders about the shops and the breweries, then this:
Two miles away is revered conservationist John Muir’s former home, now the John Muir Historic Site. Muir lived and was buried in Martinez; I’m glad to discover his 1914 death was covered by the Chronicle with a poet’s flourish. (“So on a perfect day, with just a fleecy-clouded trace of overnight tears, the mother earth took her favored son into her arms for his everlasting sleep,” his obituary read.)
I’d intended to make his home, which now documents his love of nature and preservation efforts in Yosemite Valley and Sequoia National Park, the centerpiece destination for my day trip. But the federal park is closed due to the government shutdown.
This just in: National historic sites are run by the federal government. Who knew?
Modern Martinez residents seem to have moved on to beavers anyway. The story: Two beavers arrived in 2006, had a family and did millions of dollars in damage to the city’s downtown creek flood control spillway. City leaders decided to catch and euthanize the native animals, but the citizens revolted.
“It’s hard to believe that the hometown of John Muir can’t come up with a better way than killing the beavers,” Martinez City Councilman Mark Ross said in 2007.
Eighteen years later, the beavers remain in a reengineered spillway and are an unofficial town mascot; look for an Illuminaries mural at Ferry and Green streets.
The mind reels. The jaw drops. Alhambra Creek Spillway? And the beavers are still there to this day? Oh my gosh, why wasn’t I informed? I haven’t seen them since 2017. If I had known the culture critic knew all about them I would have just asked.
Millions of dollars for the reengineered spillway. Those beavers are so dam selfish. Never you mind about the double sheetpile wall boondoogle that didn’t cost taxpayers a penny. But I do wonder who told him about the magical holding tank where the beavers are still living 20 years after their arrival. Apparently our beavers don’t age age either. Because that’s about twice the life span that we’d expect. Even if he didn’t have time to review the papers own articles or email me you’d have think he might have used the google?
Clearly Mr, Hartlaub is from the prestigious JUST SAY ANYTHING school of journalism. He’s clearly not afraid to run so others can walk. Maybe in addition to a magical spillway Martinez has built the castor fountain of youth?
